#tw: neglect

[amoxicillin-tangent]

i am given birth to by my mother. i am brought home to a falling-apart trailer. i am fed and i am not fed enough. i am aged into a small being with opinions and some semblance of autonomy; my childhood is a video game and i am given three objectives: sit down, stay quiet, and cease to exist. i am made good at the last part; it is a god-like sort of art, and so i do. silence is suited for me as well as i am suited for silence. 

i am told, gently, by my third-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. the noun of the sentence should be the actor, the doer, the taker. i am not a taker. never the actor of my own consciousness, of my own unconsciousness, remember, now, i am ceasing to exist. 

i am uprooted like a wilting plant, no sunlight, chipped terracotta pot, placed, never planted. grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters, and i deny its case. i am made a masochist at all of eight-years-old, i am made for withering away. i am made mother, made martyr, made clever, made more, made machine. 

i am placed in a foster home and told the new rules. i will sleep at 2130 and wake at 0600. i will eat blueberries and coconut yogurt and i will make good grades. i will behave. i will sit down, i will stay quiet, and i will cease to exist. 

i am told, gently, by my ninth-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. like this, you are the subject of the sentence. i am brought home; i am subjected to my sentence. i am taught, i am created, i am embittered, i am disillusioned, i am ceasing. it is all i know how to do.

blurring letters litter the pages before me. maya angelou, oh pray my wings are gonna fit me well. oh, tell the hell-child to return to her cell. mangled beast, worthless mongrel, ceasing. perfect child, perfect victim, passive. the sentences are diagrammed by my expert hand and i am diagrammed as well, pages in a folder, problem child, trouble-maker, mentally unstable. infinitive, preposition, page-break. 

my eleventh-grade teacher is asked why was it okay for maya angelou to write in passive voice? she responds, because to write in active voice would take the focus from the corpse to the crew. i like that. i understand it. the pages aren’t so blurry anymore. i trace them with my fingertips, letter-by-letter. her bones were found//round thirty years later//when they razed//her building to//put up a parking lot. 

i am no longer still, silent, ceasing. i am no longer wilting, and no longer made, i am maker. 

grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters. i am neither the corpse nor the crew. i reach forward with trembling hands,

and i pull the cord, and the light floods through.

[rosesaints]

help wanted ! chapter six.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader 

summary: miguel lets you into his world a little bit more.

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) 

warnings: oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of emotional abuse/neglect

series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

In the year of 1999, Miguel O’Hara’s world came into focus for the first time. He was six years old, and the world was blurry and still too large for him to even begin to comprehend.

His mother, Conchata, was an eccentric woman. When he was younger, he believed that it was just her unique charm, a puzzling and unpredictable quality that drew her to pull him out of class to run to the fair at the last minute or speed through a silent grocery store on a shopping cart. It was unbecoming of a scientist’s wife, but as she rolled him faster down the condiment aisle, he was still too young to care, and it was still just him and his mom in their own little corner of the world.

“How come papa never joins us for dinner?” He had asked his mother once, a long time ago, across a table that was too long and empty for just the two of them. The words pushed themselves off the tip of his tongue clumsily and awkwardly, but something pulsed within him too loudly to ignore.

“No te preocupes por eso, Miggy,” Conchata replied between bites of the frozen food they had picked out at the store earlier. “What if we went to the science center again tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

“Mama—”

“No más preguntas,” Her response was brisk and cold, unlike the way she would usually speak to him. When she saw how Miguel’s eyes retreated to the floor, her voice softened. “Please. Let’s just enjoy this.”

After that, it helped to balance out their family, he reasoned, having found comfort in the spontaneity when his father would often disappear from the picture altogether.

1999 was when Gabriel was born. Gabriel was a gift, an undisputed blessing from the moment he was born, and for a time, Miguel had to admit he resented him. Resented the way his father looked at him with more pride and joy than he had ever cared to shine his way, resented the way his mother nervously glanced from him to Gabriel to him again, resented the way he was forced to sit alone in the waiting room while their relatives and family friends came to visit the rest of his family at the hospital.

Holiday photos became strained; he would remain on the outer corner of images, always, on the opposite side of his father and Gabriel.

There were a few times when he resolved to get to the bottom of it, to force his father to look at him and see him and give him just a little bit of the attention that he gave so easily to Gabriel, but to no avail. There was always this unexplainable distance, a rift that grew miles long between them.

But then Gabriel’s first word was “Miggy.” Not “mama,” not “papa.” Miggy.

The resentment toward Gabriel didn’t last long at all, making way for something easier and lighter. Suddenly his mother’s shopping cart became a little more crowded, and finally, he had someone else to share the rush of evading the manager at the grocery store with, as their mother pushed through tight corners and raced faster down the aisles.

But no matter how much Gabriel loved him wholeheartedly, like love was just something that deserved to be unconditionally given out, it made no effect on how tense and strained things became between Miguel and his father. While Gabriel was following him from the moment he could walk and step towards him, every day it felt like his father was walking farther and farther away.

A defining memory with his father took place a week before his fifth grade science fair.

Miguel remembered the day clearly, standing quietly beside his father on the subway while holding onto a railing, watching as other parents and kids held hands while the train would shake and rumble. His father kept his hands squarely at his side.

Conchata had begged his father to allow Miguel to accompany him to work one day at Alchemax, in order to gather inspiration for his project, a silly experiment that tested genetics among generations of fruit flies. It was a last-ditch attempt to connect with his father with something, anything.

As he stepped into the grand halls of Alchemax Headquarters, a twinkle of awe sparkled in his eyes, growing even brighter as his father guided him into his very own laboratory; His father allowed him to look over current and previous experiments without his usual, stern warnings, and like a fool, he believed that it was a turning point in their relationship.

He could still remember the way he shook in excitement, breathlessly cooing over vials and serums that rested on his father’s workbench, so eager and glad to be a part of the one facet of his father’s world that remained untouched by Gabriel.

“Miguel,” His father called with a strained voice. At the sound of his name, he turned hastily to find his father facing an unfamiliar man. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as Miguel approached the man standing beside his father. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

“Come introduce yourself,” his father urged, his hand resting on Miguel's shoulder. It was a touch he had still not grown accustomed to, one that felt like a vice, trapping him in place.

As Miguel drew closer, he couldn't help but notice the uncanny resemblance between himself and the man he was being introduced to. The stranger's eyes bore into him, reflecting his own features back at him. It was as if he was looking at a distorted mirror, a reflection that sent shivers down his spine.

“Tyler Stone,” his father introduced, his voice carrying thinly veiled resentment. The weight of his father's hand on his shoulder seemed heavy, sharp nails digging into his skin that he couldn't wrench away from. He remained frozen, his eyes locked with those of Mr. Stone.

“This is my son. Miguel.”

The words hung in the air, a moment pregnant with significance.

The next words that came out of Mr. Stone's mouth were intended to be a compliment, but to Miguel, they felt like an unbearably cruel joke, a mockery of his existence. “Well. Don't you look  just like your father?”

For the first time, Miguel saw his father the way his father saw him. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the truth that had been hidden in plain sight all along. He saw the expectation and disappointment, the unspoken burden that hung between them during his entire childhood.

The anger came in droves soon after.

He stood parallel to his father on the subway back home hours later, fists squared at his sides as the train shook and rumbled on its tracks. No words needed to be said between them.

He had spent his childhood searching for validation, trying to prove himself worthy of his father's love. But that day, standing face to face with his own reflection in the form of Mr. Stone, he couldn't help but feel a surge of self-hatred. Every imperfection, every flaw, felt magnified, as if he had been carved from the same flawed mold.

Miguel clenched his fists, fighting the urge to lash out, to scream at the unfairness of it all.

A week later, it was as if his hands were moving at their own accord. His science fair, a day that he had spent so long preparing for, and he felt so—so angry. Fucking enraged to his core. He didn’t remember when he picked up a baseball bat, didn’t remember when he started swinging aimlessly. But he vividly remembered crying in the midst of a ruined fair, destroyed projects and mock volcanoes and dioramas as other parents and children watched in horror.

Most of all, he remembered his mother cradling him in her arms, cupping his face, and sobbing along with him. “Miggy—Miguel. Look at me, mijo. Lo siento. Lo siento. Lo siento.”

He had never felt so small, so insignificant before. Worst of all, his father didn’t even bother showing up.

“Hey,” You snapped him out of the recesses of his dream, carefully pushing stray strands away from his face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he became acutely aware of his surroundings.  The first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He was lying in bed, the warmth of the covers cocooning him, and the soft, steady breaths of you beside him, a soothing melody in the early morning silence. Next to them, nestled between their forms, laid Gabi, her cherubic face peaceful in slumber.

The lines of worry that had etched themselves into his face over the years seemed to momentarily fade away, realization flooding through Miguel like a cleansing wave. “No. No, it was nothing.”

“Is everything okay?” You looked at him with so much worry and care, and Miguel felt as though his heart might burst.

"Better now," Miguel whispered, his voice carrying a tenderness that seemed to envelop the room.

Subconsciously, his fingers moved of their own accord, gently tracing the contours of your face, fingertips grazing the softness of your skin. He was mesmerized by the way your lashes fluttered in the sunlight, the delicate rise and fall of your brows relaxing at his response, the way your fingers traveled up to intertwine with his. He noticed the way you paused at his bruised knuckles. "Don't worry about it . "

A warm smile tugged at the corners of Miguel's lips as he met your gaze. He wanted to ease your concerns, to make all your problems go away. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” You responded, a smile mirroring his. Your eyes drifted down to Gabi. “She had a nightmare in the middle of the night and decided to join me. Poor girl was crying and I just couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t mind.”

I just woke up with my two girls next to me. How could I mind that? “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”

There were flowers in the kitchen. Miguel didn’t remember the last time he got flowers, but he soon found out that it was yours and Gabi’s doing. A vase filled with daisies smiled up at him as he popped the breakfast pizza in the microwave. The room felt lighter; Gabi’s colorful crafts were hung up with lettered magnets on the fridge, your phone was blaring some Etta James song, and you were trying to coax Gabi to sing along with you.

“I want a Sunday kind of love,” You crooned to Gabi off-key, dancing around with her in your arms as she rolled her eyes and tried to fight a grin. “A love to last, past Saturday night! Sing along with me, Gabi!”

“Dad, make it stop,” Gabi giggled, spinning after you twirled her on her tip-toes. ‘Get me out of here.”

Miguel shook his head, chuckling softly as you swung Gabi around once again. “No, I think I’m good over here. Nice try, though.”

After the science fair incident, his father hardly spared any effort in sending him away. In a whirlwind of hurried arrangements, he found himself hastily boarding a train, his meager possessions in tow, journeying from the bustling streets of Midtown to a stately preparatory school nestled in the heart of the Bronx. He barely got to say goodbye to his mother or Gabriel.

Structure and Control, was the school’s motto. No one approached him at the dining hall, having been dubbed a liability and a risk by the school staff. He spent the rest of his childhood stewing in the anger he felt that day, surrounded by four walls and people who didn’t know him, mourning the loss of a father he knew and a father he didn’t know.

But he wasn’t a powerless child anymore. He was standing in the kitchen with you and his daughter, and you were dancing with Gabi on the vinyl floor, soaking up the sunlight that streamed lazily in through the window.

Eventually, you relented once Gabi’s laughter died down, content to hum and sway along to the slow tune as she sat perched atop a tall stool, her hair falling in gentle waves around her shoulders as you began to braid earnestly. You looked across the kitchen table, grinning as he set the breakfast down in front of them. “You’re a godsend. When did you even have time to get all of this?”

“I’m a ninja,” Miguel mused, pulling up a chair next to them and grabbing some pizza in earnest. “Didn’t you know?”

He knew that there were bigger responsibilities waiting for him, saw proof of it with the dozens of unopened emails and text messages on his phone, knew that there were bound to be some repercussions for him acting so recklessly earlier that morning with your ex-fiancé, but as you and Gabi beamed at him with so much unfiltered joy, Miguel knew there was no other way he wanted to spend his day.

It was easy to place his phone on “Do Not Disturb” for the day and even easier to set his undivided attention on his girls. “What’s the plan for today?”

After breakfast, at Gabi's eager request, the day's activities seamlessly transitioned to the familiar haven of the backyard. Miguel laid a worn and cherished blanket on the verdant floor, the years of use visible in its fading print. He reclined on the blanket, a spectator to the impromptu game unfolding before him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you engage Gabi in a spirited round of soccer.

The twinkle in your eyes mirrored hers, your movements fluid, but clumsy. He couldn't help but chuckle as Gabi, fueled by the same, stubborn determination that coursed through his veins, effortlessly outmaneuvered you at every turn. With each triumphant goal, her excitement radiated, intermingling with the shared laughter that filled the backyard.

After a while, you crossed your arms and dropped against him on the blanket, heaving as Gabi kept running around the yard with her soccer ball. Miguel found himself gravitating closer to you, legs intertwining with yours on the grass. “Giving up so soon? You were doing so good.”

“Shut up,” Miguel ducked as you playfully swatted his arm in feigned annoyance, but settled closer into the crook of his arm anyway. “She’s too fast and way too athletic for a five-year-old, no thanks to you. I barely even passed gym class in high school. It’s a surprise I lasted any longer than I did.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did slightly better than the other five-year-olds she plays against.”

“She’s growing up way too fast,” You turned to him, eyes wide with bewilderment. “Did you know she was telling me that she didn’t need my help anymore with tying her shoes the other day?”

“You can’t tell me things like that,” Miguel sighed, eyeing his daughter with a mixture of bittersweetness. “I’m just glad she still pretends to need my help.”

“Can’t be too long now,”  There was something teasing in your tone, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “She’s going to realize she’s way cooler than you and start tying her shoelaces herself.”

“Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen anytime soon. I don’t know if my heart could take that.”

You hummed in response, the melodious sound resonating deep within your chest. "I don't think my heart could take that either," you whispered, your words carrying a gentle echo of shared sentiment.

Gabi scored for the umpteenth time that day, kicking her ball into an imaginary goalpost against the fence. Moments later, she bounded towards the blanket, breathless and sweaty and wide-eyed, joining your little cluster on the blanket. You were mussing up her dark curls, singing her praises and laughing and inviting him in, and everything felt so right, so unequivocally real.

As the day wore on, time seemed to stretch, as if honoring Miguel's silent plea for the day to last as long as possible. They lingered in the backyard as conversations flowed, intertwined with bursts of laughter and moments of comfortable silence.

It was distinctly summer; the scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of a distant barbecue.  He could hear other neighbors milling around the block, but it all seemed to blur away.

As the sun set, signaling the approaching end of their idyllic day, Gabi's eyelids grew heavy, her energy spent from the day's activities. No matter how quickly the years passed, he still carried her like he did the day she was born. Miguel scooped her up in his arms, cradling her gently as he carried her to her room with you in tow.

He wanted to raise her in a way that was different from his upbringing, wanted her to grow up in a place that was overflowing with warmth and care, to feel his love from the soft glow of her nightlight that illuminated the room, to feel it when he tucked her into bed with the blanket he bought for her with his first paycheck. “Felices sueños, mi cielo.”

Once she fell asleep, a familiar sense of comfort guided him through the familiar paths of his bedroom, leading him to the bathroom where you patiently awaited his arrival.

“Let me take care of you,” Your voice was soft,  laced with tender affection. “Just for tonight.”

With deliberate movements, he allowed you to undress him and guide him into the soothing embrace of the bathtub. The air was thick with tension and want and he needed to be closer – he needed every inch of your bare skin touching his and even then that wouldn’t be close enough.

It’d been years since he’s felt taken care of; delicate were hands running through his hair, humming “A Sunday Kind of Love” against his ear as you caressed the shampoo into his scalp. Miguel closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto your shoulder, and allowed himself the rare opportunity to let his defenses down.

You traced the contours of his back, his shoulders, all the way down his arms to the bruising, purple swells that emerged from his knuckles. He inhaled deeply, aware of the way you were examining him under a close eye. Wondered if you saw through the carefully constructed facade and the pain that rested just below the surface.

(He wanted nothing more than to spare you from the ugly details, countless meals and nights he spent alone after years of ceaselessly pursuing meaning in his life beyond his family, how often he slept nestled between the cold walls of his office and his cluttered laboratory bench, resting his head on invitations to important events that were sent unopened back to him. There was the fact that he hadn't seen his mother or father in almost a decade, how none of his family members even knew that Gabi existed. That Gabi was even named after Gabriel.)

“You don’t have to tell me about it right now,” A beat passed. “But I’d like to know when you’re ready.”

Miguel nodded, the lump in his throat dissolving as you enveloped him in that all-consuming way of yours.

When you stepped out of the tub, draping a towel between the two of you and ushering him back into the bedroom, he thought he could be content forever.

This was a dance that you had played with him many nights before, but every time, he couldn’t resist staring in awe as you bore your body to him, as if recommitting you to memory for the first time.

His eyes fluttered, wonderstruck, and leaned forward first, but you were the one to deepen the kiss, pulling him down to your level and undoing the towel around his waist. You pressed him back for a moment, examining him with a breathless look before you winded your hands around his hair, water droplets be damned.

“Let go for me,” Then you were pushing him down on the bed, descending upon him like a prayer. Shivers ran through his body when he discovered your next actions.

You started out so torturously slow. A kiss on his thighs, followed by your breath fanning his skin. Your mouth was a sharp contrast to the cold air, and your teeth brushed against his skin just so. He was tempted

to plunge himself within you, to do away with this game of back-and-forth, but the way you were playing with him was exquisite.

You licked one strip from the base of his cock to his tip, just to taste, and Miguel felt like he was short-circuiting. But you remained patient, attempting to hide the smile that you hid between his legs. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes back, shuddering as you showered him with praises about how good he tasted, how well he was going to fit in your mouth.

“So good, Miguel. Unwind for me, that’s it.”

His cock was straining in his arousal, unable to do much more than enjoy the feeling of the lazy spins of your tongue around his head, dizzy with the way you complimented him perfectly.

When you took him in your mouth after what felt like eons, hollowing your cheeks to try and take more and more of him, his breathing grew ragged. You liked him like this, at your mercy, and he wanted nothing more than to fall apart underneath you.

He vaguely registered the way your other hand rutted against your core, your praises fizzling into high-pitched mewls that sent low sensations reverberating throughout his cock. “ Fuck—oh my god—such a sweet girl, takin’ care of me.  Dios. ”

Gasping out, he felt the outskirts of his orgasm approaching and his hands went flying, pleading with you. “Fuck me,” he begged, temple pressing against your head as his arms yanked you up, forcing you to straddle him with a low groan. “Let me in, amor, déjame terminar dentro de ti.”

To his pleasant surprise, you were soaked from taking him in your mouth, his eyes fixed on the wet shimmer of your pussy as he slotted himself in within you, cursing as you took him in one, fell swoop. His girl, always so sensitive to his touch, tight and pulsing in anticipation.

“Always taking care of me,” His large hand snaked behind your back, going lower until he could knead the supple skin of your ass in preparation. “Need to take care of my girl too.”

He snapped into action, working himself to the bone inside of you, strokes going faster even as your nails dug into his back in an attempt to ground yourself, delirious with the way he mercilessly pounded into you.

“Miguel, Miguel—-Miguel, please.”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” He murmured against your lips, tasting himself on your tongue as his rough hands came around your back to pull you lower.  “How much you affect me,” He relished in the way your breath hitched, sinking his teeth into the plush of your bottom lip to capture your sounds, but it wasn’t enough. “How often you cross my mind,” He was near delirious and his heart was soaring then, and it was an admission he’d make for you in every possible way. “The things I would do for you.” The things I have done.

“Miguel, I think I’m––” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as he snapped back, and you swore he was fucking you harder with each stroke. His hands ran up and down the sides of your waist, gripping your flesh so hard in a way that you knew there were going to be bruises in the morning.

“You’re gonna let me fuck more out of you, huh? You’re gonna let me give you everything you need?”

All it took was for him to stroke your clit one last time, and you were falling apart like putty in his arms.

His face dropped forward, drinking in the feeling of losing control as your back arched, lost in the way your walls clamped down on him, thrusts growing sloppy while you writhed and clashed your hips against his to make it last.

Miguel saw white and came with your name as a constant chorus on his lips, warmth painting your insides as he pushed rope after rope within you.

A slow, lethargic feeling overcame him, like a breath that he had been waiting to release all day.

In the darkness, Miguel stilled his trembling hand as he found yours, his thumb gently caressing your palm as he felt the rhythm of your breath gradually slowing.  He watched you fall asleep in his arms and held you just a little tighter, a little closer to his chest.

He had lived his life by the principles of science. His reality laid in the tangible realm of facts and figures, where equations and formulas held sway. He believed in precision and unyielding logic, finding solace in their certainty and finality.  

There was no certainty in your future together, didn’t know how long this thing with you would last, but the pessimistic scenarios that began running through his head paled in comparison to what he held in his arms.

He hadn’t felt this hopeful since Gabi was born and he was given the chance to begin anew. Not since he was a child, skating past grocery aisles on the rickety wheels of a shopping cart. What he held in his arms was tangible and real, and it filled him with hope that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

[ifbrd]

Weird Gravity Falls question:

As fans, we’re all aware that Filbrick sucked as a dad.

But do Stan and Ford understand that?

It seems obvious to us outside viewers, but I don’t exactly recall any comments by either senior Pines twin that would suggest they have connected those dots. I believe it’s fairly normal for children of abusive, neglectful or just simply bad parents to think their parent’s behavior was normal or that they deserved it or whatever, and in addiction to not being able to remember a moment where they admit their dad sucked, they certainly have both internalized his words.

Ford continued to pursue his education and was obsessed with academic excellence, as that seemed to be the one and only thing that made his father show him any kind of appreciation.

Stan continued to obsess over money, as his dad told him that was the only way he was allowed to return home. And let’s not forget his comment in the finale “dad was right, I am a screw up”

But again, and please please correct me if I’m wrong, I can’t think of anything either of them has said that criticizes their father’s actions. There’s the comment that he “wasn’t easily impressed” which I think more than anything, serves more as an excuse for his actions. Heck, in the flashback of Stan taking boxing lessons, I felt that whole scene was framed as Filbrick being a good dad, personally, I thought he was a good dad up until A Tale of Two Stans.

Idk I guess I just always assumed that after several decades they started to understand that Filbrick wasn’t a great dad, but it’s perfectly realistic for neither of them to have come to that conclusion, and frankly, the tiny bits of evidence from the show support this being the case.

I rambled a bit here, but what do you all think? Did I forget a moment that proves they do see their dad wasn’t a good dad? Do you think they have processed that part of their childhoods?

[dreaminginpencil]

Found this in my drafts and had forgotten to post it soooo...

This art is based on a twitter thread drabble I wrote about Steve and his soft toy Bunny and growing up in difficult situations and loving people that are sick the best that you can.

It's also posted in full on AO3 if you wanna support me there ❤️

(CW: depression and neglect of a child) Steve’s mom suffered with poor mental health and Steve didn’t understand. Eddie does too, and maybe Steve understands better now.

When Steve was small, his parents’ door was open a crack most of the time, the sweet grown-up scents of perfume and cologne drifting out. Their bedroom was a treasure trove of wonders, their expansive closet full of clothes that swished and slipped over his little fingers, his mom’s dressing table cluttered with ornate glass bottles of perfume, sweet-smelling waxy lipstick, and delicate compacts of powders, her silver-backed beautiful hairbrush. Sometimes his mom even brushed his hair like hers, til it gleamed, shiny and soft.

When the bedroom door was closed, Steve knew to knock first, knew he should probably wait and ask for their time later.

Sometimes though, sometimes his mother would shut the bedroom door and she would not leave the room for days. His father would sleep on the couch, or make excuses and go away on “business”.

There would be no sweet smells of perfume, only dark and silence. His father told him that his mom was sick, to let her rest. Steve didn’t understand why she didn’t want to see him. When he was sick, he wanted cuddles and toast and hot drinks with honey and his Bunny with one ear loved almost all the way off.

Steve would sit outside her door with his Bunny and wait. He would wait and wait and eventually when he was lonely and tired he would knock quietly and creep into her room.

With the heavy damask curtains drawn, it drowned the room in blue shadows, the looming frame of the four poster and it’s mounds of blankets piled up. Steve felt like he was climbing a mountain to find his mom amongst them all.

“Are you sick? Do you want toast?”

He would offer her his Bunny, cuddle close. She did not smell like perfume, just something stale and forgotten.

“Mommy’s tired Stevie.”

Sometimes she wouldn’t speak at all, just touch his hair. Sometimes she would tell him to leave her.

“Go and play Stevie.”

Steve didn’t know how to explain with her there was nobody to play with and that his father had gone away somewhere and he was hoping she would make him macaroni.

Steve learnt to get to the high up pantry shelves for snacks until his father got home, or til his mom stopped feeling tired.

She seemed more than tired, but what did he know?

The older Steve got, the more often his mom was tired. He learnt not to ask anymore, just to lie down with her, to be patient, to be sweet.

He learnt to bring her food, even if she would not eat it, to make her tea and open the curtains up. He learnt to coax her from bed and to her vanity, so he could brush the dark tangle of her hair until it gleamed and fell like silk down her back. He ran her hot baths and always gave her his Bunny.

When his parents started to go away and not come home, Steve wondered who took care of her. If his father still left her alone.

She would sound far far away when he called her. “I’m tired Stevie, we’ll speak soon.” The dial tone felt heavy.

Steve gets tired too, but there is nobody who will come to check on him, so he cannot sleep through it.

Eddie is like his mother was, sometimes.

After the Upside Down, after Vecna, Eddie is dogged by the shadow of consequence. They won, yes, they won, but Eddie is scarred and scared and sometimes he is very tired.

Steve knows how to take care of Eddie when he’s tired.

He can come to Eddie in his quietness, in his tangled unwashed sheets and his dark bedroom and he can offer, piece by piece, the things he knows.

He can kiss Eddie’s clammy forehead, his tangled hair, curl up with him and pay no heed to the mortification of dirty sheets for a while. He can crack the blinds and bring him his painkillers and water and coffee. He can coax Eddie to a shower, washing the sleep and the sadness from his skin. He can change his sheets, trade them for clean soft cotton and comfort.

When Eddie is clean and so tired again, Steve can brush his long hair until it’s free from tangles and falls long and dark down his back.

Sometimes Eddie needs time to be tired, but Steve can care for him still, with quiet affection and patience.

Eddie may need time, sometimes, but he never entirely closes the door to shut Steve out.

[itsabouttimex2]

I loved the reactions to the lady bone demon defendant! But what about LBD reacting to it? Platonic of course, but would she try to manipulate them? Perhaps get them to join her willingly or by force?

Descendant of the Lady Bone Demon: Part Three

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Maybe they should've seen this coming. Maybe there were a few warning signs they didn't pick up on. Looking back on it now, it's pretty obvious, isn't it? All those little things should've added up a long time ago.

The way the room grew silent and tense when you walked in, no matter how how exuberant it had been prior. How you manage to sneak up on everyone without even trying, as though you had no presence. The wide berth that strangers give you, even though they can't explain why. That last one had been particularly strange for your friends. They hadn't understood why people would treat you so coldly, not back then.

They understand now.

Just because someone loves you doesn’t mean that they want the best for you.

The man that Megapolis calls their ‘Mayor’ has somehow become your most enduring caretaker thus far. Everyone that came before him had either given you up after a few scarce months of guardianship, disappeared without a trace, or succumbed to some kind of sickness.

Frequently, the blame had been put on you. If a child gets passed through foster home after foster home after foster home and never acclimates to any of them, there’s a conclusion that many will draw- the child isn’t trying hard enough.

Never mind how many of your guardians would leave you locked outside for hours on end, well into the freezing cold night.

Never mind how often they ‘forgot’ to properly feed and clothe you, pocketing the allotted care salary for themselves.

Never mind often you weren’t allowed to explore the temporary houses outside of your own room, kept away from areas meant for ‘real’ family.

Never mind often how you were fed box-mix macaroni-and-cheese while your foster family ate real meat and vegetables.

Never mind any of that, of course.

The problem was obviously you, your ‘families’ had decided. And so had their friends and extended families, and even the system that threw you from one miserable little home to the next, leaving you with no one and next to nothing. All that you owned you carried around in a disposable plastic sack, never bothering to unpack and try to settle in.

You’d be gone in another month or two anyways.

Until you had been introduced to the mayor of Megapolis, that had been all the life you had ever known.

With one hand firmly on your back, he leads you into his house, a discreet building hidden away in quiet part of the city. It stands proudly above you, an ancient building refitted time and time again to suit the ever-changing trends of time. The walls are painted in elegant grays and a variety of tastefully selected blues, providing a clean and refined atmosphere.

It wasn’t often that you could truly call a temporary home clean. And this was certainly the first time you could apply an adjective such as ‘elegant’ to a building.

So many houses run-down from lack of care, pet urine long-seeped into fraying carpets, worn cots covered in dust and packed six or eight to one crumbling room.

His arm shifts down your back and to your wrist, holding tight. With such unnervingly wide eyes and the rictus grin he sports, you should be scared.

You should be scared that he’ll hurt you. But you’ve lived a life that’s proven to you a single fact: getting hurt is inevitable.

No matter how much you come to trust someone or how long you live with them- there’s no love or kindness. Just an always-ticking clock, counting down until the moment they break and throw you out quicker then they would toss trash.

But there’s no bruising grip this time. No harsh shoves. No unkind words. No molded side room that smells of bleach and detergent.

“Welcome home, Y/N!” he calls out with a much too loud tone, grinning ear to ear. “I hope you like your new room!”

It’s… actually nice. Not ‘for your standards’ nice. It’s ‘hotel’ nice. ‘Lavish guest room’ nice.

The longer you spend basking in the pleasantly smooth greys and blues of your new room, the more welcoming they feel.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, hoping that you weren’t ‘too late with gratitude’ as you had been so many times before according to many, many caretakers.

“Why, of course!” The grey-clad man pats your back with far too much force, pushing you inside with a stretched grin. “Please, get comfortable! I hope you’ll enjoy your- hopefully- very long stay!”

The door slams behind you, but doesn’t lock. That’s good, you think. You could leave, if you wanted to. You weren’t just trapped in here until your case worker came and asked for you.

And you think that might be the case when he knocks on the door hours later, probably to hand you a metaphorical eviction notice and throw you out because he got ‘unnerved’ like everyone always does-

And you are instead invited downstairs for a hot drink.

How could you say no?

The fireplace is hot, stoked by old papers strewn between the logs inside. If you looked closer, you’d see the names of your previous caretakers and case workers, printed onto them in neat lettering, all in a short, succinct list. And you’d notice the big ‘missing persons report’ stamped in bright red.

But the tea is warm and sweet, and the ‘Mayor’ has his arm around your shoulders as he holds you a little too close-

And you’re naive and desperate enough to consider this safe.

The Lady Bone Demon watches from within. She’s an ever-present force creeping through your veins, ice-cold and unearthly. Her power courses your blood, pumping slow. She feels through your hands. She sees through your eyes. She hears through your ears.

There’s no escape from her.

Carefully, the Lady sows and reaps your suffering. From the confines of your flesh, she makes note of all that brings you to tears, all that brings you to your knees.

In pulses, she strengthens you. Where you walk, crystals grow, smothering flowers and grass in your unknowing wake.

In waves, she activates the powers lying dormant in your veins. Bones buried deep underground shift and stir, waiting eagerly to heed your call.

In surges, she unleashes her presence, staining your eyes the color of a deathly cold ocean. All but a select few retreat in droves, leaving you to wonder what you’ve done to deserve your loneliness.

It is nothing short of cultivation. Within you blooms a small seed of her power, and she stokes it from the inside. The bud of cold blue slowly blooms, rooting deep through your blood. In time, she weaves those roots further and further into the fertile soil of your flesh, ensuring that they may never be pulled free without the utter destruction of your life.

A flower; unremovable, of crystalline sinew and careful tending, a slow and creeping overtake of your life woven by hands unseen. A growing mote of power to be plucked and consumed, taken as part of a greater whole when the day finally comes that you bloom.

And what a wonderful sacrifice you shall make for her cause.

[queen-of-weird-girl-nation]

Jason: you ruined my life!

Jupiter: how could I ruin your life! I wasn’t even there!

[toxictoad]

In furtherance of my agenda to make Tavs that are sorta cringe but that I love...

Wouldn't it be fucked up if Tav was Gale and Mystra's kid but he never knew about them until they both get tadpoled. Like wouldn't that provide so much potential for angst

(Obscenely long rant about my take on this under the cut, as I tend to do. Also trigger warnings for SA adjacent topics, grooming, brief pregnancy mention, parental neglect, and suicidal thoughts (Of the 'I wish I didn't exist' variety). I'll tag things accordingly)

As a member of the "Fuck Mystra" brigade (As we all are) she's gonna suck as a mother and a lover and all, HOWEVER, for the purposes of this post, I'm making Tav 19, because that's young enough to make a certain amount of sense (Forgotten Realms lore being put to the side for a moment) and making Gale 37, because even if you subscribe to the idea that Mystra was a nonce I don't feel like going there right now. Okay? Okay.

That being said; Mystra only wants a kid for like shits and giggles. Kids are inconsequential to a goddess and she doesn't tell Gale because who fucking knows. Maybe she thought if he had someone other than her to care about he would realize she sucked or something.

So Gale just never learns that he has a whole ass child out there for whatever reason.

With the math Tav (I named him Cosmos because I can do whatever I want) is born when Gale is at least 18, and deities are weird so I imagine that pregnancy is either not like a noticeable physical thing or it's accelerated or there's just something ephemeral about it, so it's not like Mystra is gone or actually physically pregnant or anything.

I think it would be funny if she just gave the baby to Elminster and was like "Hey I'm your goddess so you have to raise my kid also don't tell Gale bye" Because like... He's fucking Elminster. He's an immortal archmage and one of the most powerful people in the Forgotten Realms, and now he has to take care of a baby?! He doesn't know how to do that! He doesn't know what babies need! And what is he gonna do when this thing gets older?!

(Yes I know that Elminster has canonical children but as far as I can tell he didn't raise any of them so it tracks probably)

So Cosmos is raised by Elminster and grows up in a hazardous wizard tower and gets taken on perilous adventures in one of those baby slings because I think it's funny. Also, I think that Cosmos is a sorcerer and it lowkey pisses off all of his weird fucking parents. Cause he's an Aasimar. A child of a goddess. His blood is hella magical and he has an ego about not having to learn spells and shit. He has Gale's disposition but also he has actual charisma to back it up and it's a terrible (Read; Funny as hell) combination.

The result of Cosmos having actual charisma, confidence (Highkey arrogance), and skill is that he is... Well, he's a lush. Not in any practical sense because he is a teenager and lives with a bajillion-year-old man, but like... He's the guy from your high school who was nice enough but also he had a new girlfriend every week and does a little too much partying. He's a playboy and we support him in that endeavor. It really is a miracle that he isn't super obviously weird because he was raised by a cooky old wizard, never knew about his father (I think when he asked Elminster would just tell him he didn't know, because he does care about the kid and doesn't want to burden him with the knowledge), and got a visit from Mystra like... twice. She's literally your dad who texts you every six months and doesn't remember your birthday (I hate her so much).

But somehow he's kinda well-adjusted, and he moves out of Elminster's tower to go do sorcerer things and maybe go on adventures, who knows?

And then he gets fucking tadpoled.

And at first, it's like "Okay, I'm definitely adventuring now. Maybe it wasn't planned but I'm gonna be alright" and then he meets a wizard who was stuck in a rock and is obviously a devotee of Mystra, and he's like "Oh, okay. He could be cool to have around. The dynamic is a little weird but fuck it we ball" and then the wizard is like "Hey I need to eat magic or I'll explode can't tell u why tho" and that's a little sketchy, but he likes the guy and doesn't want him to die, so he gives him his magic shoes.

And things go... Well. He gets the hang of this whole adventuring thing and saving people is pretty cool, actually. And he does kind of indulge in the wizard/sorcerer rivalry because he thinks it's funny, but ultimately he just... likes these people, even if they're all kinda keeping secrets (Him included, because how in the hells is he supposed to unload all of that Mystra baggage to his new tadpole buddies?)

He's the youngest but Lae'zel and Wyll are close enough in age that they get kind of clique-y (I'm a Wyll simp so they're gonna end up married sue me)

And then the tiefling party happens, and he talks to Gale... and oh my god this is so awkward I do not wanna hear you talk about my estranged goddess mom. And like he indulges Gale in his magic trick but the whole thing sets off some warning signs that he's like... HM.

And he isn't sure yet, but he thinks that, maybe, Gale might be his father.

And that is just... Ah. That is both kind of cool and also makes him a little sick.

Because he doesn't know everything, but he does know that Mystra is maybe not the best when it comes to mortal men. And he might've been born out of some stuff that was ethically dubious at best.

So he has the brilliant and not at all stupid plan to never tell anyone ever.

And he tries his absolute hardest to not talk to Gale at all the entire time they're going through the Underdark (The order of the adventure is optimized for maximum drama). Everyone notices but he just... pretends that absolutely nothing is wrong and Gale eventually comes up to apologize like 'Hey man sorry if I was like too much :(' because he's a sweetie and will feel bad about things that are not his fault. And Cosmos tries to say that it isn't about that but it also kind of is, so he just accepts the apology and goes back to being a bit of a dickhead.

And the party is getting ROCKY by the time they get through the Underdark. Everyone knows some shit is up but they also all have their own issues so it's a mess. A hot goddamn mess.

...And then they go through the Mountain Pass... And Elminster is there...

And Cosmos sees him and wants to turn around SO badly but that would be weird and then Elminster sees him...

I cannot paraphrase this accurately to my vision so have a snippet of writing here;

*****

He feels like he might anxiety vomit, but hopefully, it doesn’t show on his face. Gale walks a little faster and waves, “Elminster. Fancy running into you here”

And he doesn’t look very surprised to see the younger wizard, but he does look surprised to see Cosmos. He prays to every deity he can think of that Elminster says nothing.

But who the fuck listens to prayers anyways.

“Gale, my boy… I have some, um, business to attend to with you, but…”

He turns his eyes onto Cosmos and he knows that his face goes white right then.

“How did this-?”

“I haven’t said it yet” He blurts out, swallowing bile, “And you aren’t going to”

Elminster blinks in surprise, glancing between him and Gale for a moment.

“What- You know Elminster?” Gale looks incredulous, and he wants to snark back with some taunt about wizards and sorcerers and useless teachers but he just bites his tongue and nods. He is… so fucked.

He and Elminster are locked in some bizarre staring contest, and Cosmos communicates as much as he can with his eyes that he will try to punch an old man. They say nothing, and Gale is growing increasingly exasperated, “I’m sorry, can someone please explain what’s going on? What have you not said?”

He looks at Cosmos with sad eyes- the same way he’s looked since the Tiefling Party. He can see it out of the corner of his eyes, but he doesn’t acknowledge the words. Cosmos grits his teeth and feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Camp. Now”

He is… so fucked.

*****

And then the big reveal happens and Cosmos is emotionally stunted and maybe has a panic attack or something and runs away for an hour and Gale finds him and tries his best to be an awkward dad. It works, somehow.

And then Cosmos finds out why Elminster was there, and...

Well in short he decides that he's going to punch his mother in the face. Divinity be dammed. It's an incredibly awkward situation at best, but fuck, man. He actually likes Gale- his dad- whoever you are- and immediately jumps on the 'Fuck Mystra' Train. He just got this parental figure and you want him to blow himself up? Yeah, no. Not happening. He has no mother anymore.

(Sidenote; I think that concurrently with all of Cosmos' shit Astarion and Gale would have a thing. This is mostly irrelevant but at some point, Cosmos is like 'Bloodline ended with Mystra. Astarion is my mom now' because it would be funny. Astarion can't take care of a child but he CAN be a weird step-dad to an adult child and give advice about how to get blood out of cotton shirts)

And Gale reacts... more or less like he does in canon, but it's a little different because like... Shit, this is his child. His child who... doesn't want him to blow up. He's devoted to Mystra, but I think an inkling of doubt would emerge with that. It's a little strange, finding out that your companion who you thought was just uncomfortable around you is actually your son with your ex-gf/goddess who is now righteously angry on your behalf. It feels... kinda nice, in a weird way.

I think Cosmos has enough charisma that he can make things sort of not awkward. He just makes jokes about Gale being his dad and everyone is just like 'Well I guess this is how things are now?'

Gale doesn't know how to be a parent, much less to an adult child who also has Mystra baggage, but fuck it if he doesn't try. Awkward conversations about love interests ensue (I like to imagine Gale trying his hardest to give Wyll a shovel talk but it ends up as just him and Wyll having a nice chat. He's trying to be intimidating, dammit!)

I do think Gale would have an 'Oh shit' moment at some point in the Shadow-Cursed lands. If Cosmos gets too low on health, or gods forbid if he has to be revived? Maximum angst potential there. Maybe it makes him start to realize how valuable his life is or something who knows.

Cosmos yells at his dad for even considering blowing himself up at Moonrise Towers (He says sorry later, but still)

A lot of Act 3 is getting through awkward conversations tbh. But it's good for them. But Gale's confrontation with Mystra... Oh boy.

Like Cosmos obviously doesn't approve of the whole crown of Karsus thing, but more importantly; he will scream at Mystra for as long as Gale will let him. Some very choice words are thrown around. But also (And this is where we get some of my own indulgence in angst) I think during this... very amicable conversation between adults... Cosmos would end up saying something akin to 'I wish I was never born' and... Oof. I don't think he would realize it at first, and Mystra wouldn't really care, but it sticks with Gale.

Like the man just kind of realized that his life means something other than benefitting other people, and now he hears that? Heartbreak. Immediate heartbreak. He doesn't know how to broach the subject and just ends up standing around Cosmos' tent until he finally asks what's up.

Cue Gale blurting out that he's glad Cosmos exists and that he wouldn't change any of the bs with Mystra because even if it's new and awkward he's his son and that means something and he doesn't want him to think about his own life the way Gale did and-

Cosmos... genuinely does not know what he's talking about at first, but when he gets it he's just like... Oh, that? Yeah no I just wish I didn't exist because I hate the way that I was made and it feels like my existence hurts you lmao

I think that Cosmos legitimately does not realize that most people don't feel that way sometimes. Like he knows, but he doesn't really internalize that there's something "wrong" with the way he feels

And... Okay why is Gale crying what did he say oh shit-

He had to hammer it into Gale's head that he's deserving of life and love, and now it's Cosmos' turn! Get loved, idiot

(I have so many feelings about so many other bits of Act 3 but this is SO long now so I'm just gonna skip to the epilogue or I'm never going to post this because I just keep adding things)

So Bloodweave happens, because tbh I don't see Gale with any of the other companions in this scenario (Spawn Astarion, obvi) and... look, I LOVE Karlach and I love Wyll's Blade of Avernus ending, but I just want them to be a weird fucked up little family, okay? Karlach got a Deus Ex Machina and her heart is fine for some reason in this case idk.

I just really like the idea of Wyll and Cosmos adventuring around the Sword Coast and occasionally popping into Gale's tower in Waterdeep to visit. The dynamic between Gale, his morally grey Vampire boyfriend, his dumb magic son, and his dumb magic son's hero husband who is also his friend is just... Mwah. Chef's kiss. Weird gay family over here I love them. Wyll's father is so confused. Christmas dinner is insane. Morena Dekarios is thrilled to have a grandchild. Tara is basically Cosmos' aunt. Withers is there sometimes. It's pure chaos and I can't get enough of it.

[treesusedtotalktome]

[undead-merman]

This was a Patreon request from Usotsu: “I remembered you once wrote about Bullboy Kylar and a vet pc, may I request a continuation to that, if that's ok? Maybe with the pc having to keep him without much of a choice since Kylar isn't being productive anymore and he also has become violent towards everyone in his farm but it's just a little calmer with pc's presence? Bonus points if pc brings Kylar to Alex's farm and everything gets even worse, lmao. I don't mind if it's goes more towards SFW or NSFW. Thanks in advance.”

The original post

Bullboy Kaylar Moving to Alex’s farm with Vet GN-Reader SFW & NSFW

Taking him off Remy’s hands

It was during your last visit did you hear Remy tell you that they were looking to re-home Kylar. It was too much work and he wasn’t providing enough to stay on the farm. He was running a business, not a charity. Not to mention the little shit had caused a handful of injuries that had some farmhands in the hospital for goring.

You felt bad for the little guy. Constantly nursing some kind of injury, and the farmers were never gentle with him. Harsh and somewhat cruel, you couldn’t just let him leave. You talked with Alex, and they agreed. They were looking for another bull and even if he didn’t give milk he would be cared for at this farm and give the little guy the life he deserves. 

There was a heavy tension between Remy and Alex and you knew that just moving Kylar wasn’t as simple as asking. You had to strike a deal. You had to do some things you weren’t proud of and you would have had to do worse if you weren’t their vet. 

But that day game where Alex grabbed a trailer for him and when he ran into your arms and took him outside of the fence Kylar’s eyes when wide with wonder. His face just right now was worth the trouble you went through. 

You had to sit with him in the trailer he kicked and panicked otherwise. He held onto you so hard, not understanding you were taking him to have a much better life. He was trembling against you, and you certainly noticed his cock poking against you even with how high stress this was. Kylar would be Kylar even when stressed. Your touch did help calm him down a bit. 

You and Alex lead him to the pen for him, lined with extra soft bedding. Kylar was blown away by it and fell asleep almost instantly. Both you and Alex couldn’t help but smile at his sleeping face. It was heartwarming and Alex ruffled your hair and made a nice dinner for the both of you that night. A little bit of both of your favorites.       

Adjusting To The Move

Kylar was shy and meek at first. Only really perking up when you were around and with you appearing every day his mood improved faster than you were expecting. His blood pressure was at an all-time low and he was gaining weight.

He did have that habit of humping you when you did medical checkups on him and they looked painful sometimes. All flushed and painfully hard with precum almost gushing from his slit.

The stones in his hooves gradually got less and he was careful with the bandages. He has gotten a little glow to him, looking so much healthier in this new environment. 

When you finally introduced him to the fields he still seemed rather happy despite it being a smaller plot of land. Though he didn’t seem to get along with any of the others. A little bit of a loner, though you hoped that would change.

After a month or so he finally seemed ready to produce and as both you and Alex stood there attaching the milkers Kylar didn’t take his eyes off you. Mooing and trying to fuck the machine. Even with his smaller testicles and prior neglect, he spewed so much. Even Alex was impressed that this little guy could make so much. He compared to your finest and biggest girl.        

The Quirks Of The Bull

He grew slightly more comfortable around the farm and while he was still a loner, he did always come up to the fence line and wait for you to come out before work. He leaned into the pets you offered and always waited for you to come home. Alex made a joke that he made a little ditch from pacing around the fence waiting for you. 

Kylar did have attachment issues. He was overly possessive of you and would headbutt the other cattle when you did checkups on them or push them over when they were coming to get pet. Though you noticed Kylar always acted pathetic when you or Alex went to scold him. 

Speaking of Alex, he never seemed to like them. Tolerating them was more the word for it. His face would drop when Alex came in and would huff when you and Alex chatted. If you weren’t separated by a face or gate by the time Alex left he’d knock you over and grab your hips to grind his bare cock into your ass. The precum drenches your pants and his cum coats you, even reaching the back of your neck. 

If you did ever end up bottomless around him he’s on your like glue. Mouth right on your genitals and feverishly shoving his face as close to you as he can as he devours you desperately. Drinking every little drop of fluid you secrete. Or if he hadn’t seen you all day his cock was pressing right at your rim, Pushing in without prep. It would always hurt like hell and it was like he was trying to make up for it with gentle licks of his long tongue, though it never helped as he brutally ruined your hole and stuffed you so full of cum your stomach bloated and it gushed when he popped himself out. 

Should you have ever let him do it willingly, he was gentle. Hands shaking as he held your hips as his cock slipped into you. Both of you are grateful for the lube you used beforehand. His fingers fumbling on your tummy and trying to find his cock inside you and every time he found it he pressed down and mooed so happily. 

He was one to pass out right after cumming so if he ended up catching you bare you were able to squeeze by him without a fuss. 

Alex did seem to like him even if he was a troublemaker. He made some profitable milk. Alex often talked about finding him a nice breeding partner. If only Alex knew.

[inlovewithpandora]

- Kicked Out -

Pairing: Kiri x Fem!Omatikaya!reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst w/ comfort

Synopsis: You and your mom were thick as thieves, both of you had a strong connection but all that ended when her new boyfriend came into your life.

Content/Warnings: bsf!Kiri, neglective mom, bad mom and daughter relationship (mom slaps reader), mentions of physical abuse, (lmk if I missed any!)

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8K

Glossary: Sa’nok - Mother || Tutan - Man || Sempul - Father

Extra: requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Masterlist || Taglist

Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated💗!

"You know what?! Get out of my house Y/N!"

You and your mom were thick as thieves, the two of you always had a good and close relationship. Both of you would always hunt together or make new woven mats while discussing the latest gossip in the clan.

You felt like no one could ever sever the strong bond both of you had until He came.

Your mother has been dating her boyfriend, Niptu for almost six months, and ever since he stepped into her life your mother's attitude changed towards you. She used to be loving but now she barely pays you any attention. Both of you use to carve time out of the day to spend some quality time together but now all her time and energy is consumed with her new relationship.

The strong bond both of you once shared began to weaken and as of this moment it was officially broken.

Your mother expressed to you how Niptu was going to move into your marui and you were against it. You never liked him because he was always mean or rude towards you. He always made it seem like you were in the way of his and your mother's relationship.

You have voiced your opinions about him to your mother plenty of times but she just brushed your words off, she didn't believe a word you said about Niptu.

"You're kicking me out?!" You shouted while the feeling of anger began to stir with you. You knew your mother did crazy and outrageous things but this... this was the icing on the cake.

"Yes, I am! You can't respect me and you keep talking nonsense about Niptu! He is a good tutan and if you can't see that or agree with him moving in you will be moving out!" She yelled as she begin to shove your things in a woven basket.

"You would kick out your own child for some tutan you haven't even been dating a year?! H-How could you do this?!" As you watched your mother continue gathering your things it was like you were looking at a different woman.

You couldn't even recognize the woman in front as your mother anymore. She was treating you like a random person, she was treating you as if she didn't carry you in her womb and birth you.

"MY CHILD would be happy that their Sa'nok is happy but you!" She turned around and faced you with fire in her eyes "You can't even be happy for me! You choose to speak ill about Niptu, you choose to not be happy for us!"

"Sa'nok how could I be happy for you when he treats me horribly?! Do you even care that he's rude to me? Do you even care that sometimes he hits me?!"

Whenever your mother left to run an errand around the village she would leave Niptu home with you. You hated when she did this because every time Niptu felt like you were 'out of line' or doing something he felt like you shouldn't be he would hit you. He would call it 'disciplining you' but you didn't see it that way especially since it was for no reason.

"Niptu must've had a reason, you must've done something to provoke him to act that way" she spoke in a nonchalant manner, as if it didn't bother her one bit that her boyfriend did those things to you.

"Provoked him?! Sa'nok you can't be serious... is this tutan blinding you this much that you don't even see him hitting your daughter as a problem? You think that it's my fault that he does that to me?!"

Instead of your mother responding to you she just shoved the woven basket contained with your belongings inside towards your chest, "Leave! Now!"

As you felt the material of the basket scrape against your skin you just stood there in shock, shocked that your own mother was actually putting you out of your home.

As you and your mother continued arguing you could hear Niptu walk in, "Ah! Hello my love!" your mother ran over to him and gave him a warm hug as if everything was normal.

Niptu could see the bag in your hand and an evil smile spread across his face, "I see your sa’nok finally took my advice" he said with a dark chuckle. Niptu has been feeding your mother's words, telling her that you were causing a drift into their relationship and that you would have to leave or he would break up with her.

"Took your advice? Sa'nok what is he talking about?!" As you look between your mother and Niptu with confused eyes begging for answers your mother finally decides to speak up.

"Niptu told me that you should leave…"

"And you actually listened to him?! You let him warp your mind to think that I should leave? That I'm causing a 'drift' in your relationship?!"

Years ago your mother would have never acted like this, she would have never been kicking her daughter out into the dark forest to fend for herself but now... now things were different. She wanted to be and feel loved by a man in any way she could so if she had to do some things to continue receiving that love she did it.

"Yes I listened to him, he's the tutan of the house now" As your mother spoke about Niptu it just stroked his ego and it made you even more upset at the situation.

"Tutan of the house? Please he's not even half a man, he's a boy! I wish Sempul was still here, you would have never done—" Your words are cut off by the feeling of pain on your right cheek. Hearing you speak of your father triggered something so deep in your mother that the first thing she decided to do was slap you across the face.

As you felt the sting of her hand, tears welled up in your eyes. That was the final straw for you, you knew that the woman you called 'Sa'nok' wasn't there anymore.

"Don't you ever speak of your Sempul in this house again!"

"Fine, I won't because I'm leaving just like you wanted! I don't want to ever speak to you again" You put your woven basket behind your back and stormed out of your marui... well your old mauri.

You began wandering around the forest, trying to figure out what your next steps would be. You knew that you needed to find shelter and a new home so you began to look for an empty marui to rest your head for the night until you found something more permanent.

As you stumbled upon an empty marui you saw your best friend Kiri walking up to you with a concerned look in her eyes.

"y/n are you okay? What happened?" She took notice of the dried tear stains on your blue skin and how it looked like everything you owned was shoved into your woven basket.

"It's my sa'nok..."

Kiri wasn't oblivious to your mother's treatment toward you. Sometimes both of you would sit together in the forest and you would rant to her about your mother, hoping that your best friend could give you some advice, and just be a listening ear.

"What did she do now?"

"S-She kicked me out today..."

Kiri's eyes went from glazed with concern to slight anger. As she spoke her tail began to swing behind her, "What?! What do you mean she kicked you out?!"

Kiri never liked the way your mother treated you since she started dating Niptu. She thought it was disgraceful for a mother to treat their child like that just because they have a love interest. She never could understand why your mother did the things she does and you couldn't either.

You begin to tell Kiri everything that happened a few moments ago, from how your mother yelled at you to how she kicked you out just because of Niptu. You brought up how you only mentioned your father and she decided to raise your hand and slap you.

As Kiri heard you tell her everything that occurred her heart was broken for you, "y/n I'm sorry that happened to you" Kiri pulled you into a hug and wrapped her slender arms around you hoping she could make you feel better.

"Your mom should have never kicked you out for some stupid tutan, your her child for Eywa's sake!" Kiri was visibly upset about the whole situation, she would have gone to your mother and given her piece of her mind but she knew being with her best friend was more important.

"Are you okay y/n? How are you doing?"

"I'm fine... I'm just glad I don't have to be there anymore. I can't deal with her like I use to Kiri, I've had it up to here with her" You use to be able to tolerate your mother's behavior when it was just minimal things but now it's just too much for you to handle.

Kiri then realized you were in need of shelter, "So where are you going to sleep tonight? Where are you going to live?"

All you could do is shrug your shoulders, "Kiri... I don't know yet, I'm just going to stay here tonight and figure out everything else tomorrow..." you of course didn't have everything figured out right now since it just happened and you were still in a little shock about everything that occurred.

As you pointed to the empty marui in front of you Kiri began to look inside. It was dark, dirty with dust covering every surface, the sleeping mats inside were so old that if touched them they would probably deteriorate.

"No y/n you can not sleep here, it's not safe. You can come to my marui"

"No Kiri I can't do that, you have a family and I don't want to impose or anything" You didn't want to burden her and her family with your problems.

"Come on you spend the night all the time, this will be nothing different other than it's a longer stay. My parents won't mind they love when you come over and my siblings already love you. Everything would be happy to have you." Kiri kept giving you reasons, hoping you would decide to come with her. She didn't want you to be out here all alone when you could be around people who care about you.

"Okay, okay Kiri you convinced me I'll come..."

A bright smile spread across Kiri's face as she heard you agree, "Let's go, my sa'nok should have dinner ready any minute now" Kiri grabbed your hand and began leading you to her marui.

As you walked with Kiri you were so glad that you have a best friend like her. You always knew you could count on her and in this moment it showed. You knew that she had your back no matter the situation and would help you out in any way she could.

A/N: sorry if the ending was trash, I rushed making it😭. I almost didn’t post this bc I felt like it was trash but @number1gal convinced me to post it😭!

I hope you all enjoyed💗!

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[batmanfruitloops]

Finally finished Harley's backstory!

Also, please let me know if I need more trigger warning tags, I'm not sure I covered them all, but I'm drawing a blank,

Harleen couldn't remember a time when her parents had gotten along, nor was she old enough to remember when they divorced, but she did remember how different living with each of them was, and that she much preferred the time with her father.

Her mother treated Harleen well enough, but she was almost always out of the house partying or gambling, leaving Harleen to take care of herself if she was unable to on a given day. She woke herself up for school, made herself food, and sometimes if she was lucky, her mother wasn't too hungover to spend a little time with her.

Her father, on the other hand, treated Harleen like his most precious treasure, taking her out to the circus whenever he could and buying her ice cream after picking her up from school. He had Bipolar (I'm not too sure which one, I need to do more research) and depression for a long time, but he did his best not to let it affect Harleen. From about middle school, Harleen started to show similar traits as her father, as well as being tested for narcissism, but her father knew how to help, so Harleen was able to keep them in check.

It wasn't until his own health started to drastically decline when Harleen was graduating high school that things got hard. She had already balanced having a job with her schoolwork, but found herself looking for a better paying job, as her father could no longer work as well to help with rent. She managed all that while still preparing to get a degree to go in therapy, but it was starting to affect her. Worse, her father's attitude towards her started to change. Not only was he extremely depressed all the time, he would have bouts of extreme aggression or hysteria before becoming despondent, judgemental, and intensely suicidal. Harleen was terrified, especially since she couldn't stay home with him all the time. Not if she wanted to keep her job and finish her degree.

She took him to a lot of doctors to see if they could help, but their answers all lead to an unknown form of disease that seemed to latch unto the brain and affect pre-existing health issues. This devastated Harley, and she was honestly terrified too. The doctors had warned that it tended to run in the family, so there was a high chance this would happen to her too.

It was all too much, her brain was swimming, practically drowning her thought after thought, and she could hardly tread on. She continued to work, albeit her coworkers noticed the shift. She had exams coming up, ones that would determine if she got her degree or not, but she'd barely been able to study and so…she cheated. She'd never done so in her life. It hurt her pride, and her father would be so disappointed, but he didn't have to know. It was all for him anyway,

Harleen passed, and she was lucky to get a job as a Blackgate therapist. Her schedule made it possible to watch her father most of the time, and this eased her mind, although her father's treatment kept her morale low. After a few years, she was offered a new therapist position at Arkham that was better paying for less hours, and she gladly accepted.

This is where she became John's (Jokers) therapist. They shared an interest in circus’, but there wasn't much else they agreed on. Harleen was also very drained by her father at this point, and had taken a lot of what he said to heart, so despite not agreeing with everything she said, Harleen still repeated harsh, personal things to John. Something about his genuine, fragile nature bothered her. And much in the same way, Harleen reminded John of his mother in the worst aspects.

On one particularly exhausting day, Harleen found her father had hung himself while she was at work. Her heart sank. She almost didn't believe it, but it really was him. She barely allowed herself to mourn and continued to work, finding herself lashing out at John even more. She lost it, starting to beat him as he helplessly buckled.

Now Strange didn't usually care if his patients were treated poorly, he often engaged such behavior himself, but some higher ups were visiting to access the Asylum because of Attorney Dent and Mr. Wayne's concerns. So when they witnessed Harleen beating John, she had to be fired.

At this point, Harleen feels she has nothing left, and after a bout of depression she goes back out as Harley Quinn, tired of trying to fight all the emotions and pain tangled up inside her.

- Sarsee

[rookfeatherrambles]

I am feral about two things: Hunt!Jon/Land!Selkies and Vast!Jon/Winged!Jon and I wrote a thing about Jon with wings so here you go

Many lifetimes ago, the gods gave people wings, with the caveat that one day, they’d take them back. I have wings, and I don’t want them to disappear, even though everyone says they’re bad luck. My Grandmother says they’re a curse, not a blessing, and that my destiny is on the ground, like a normal person, but I hear the stars singing every night, and I have to know what they’re saying. If you’re reading this, Grandma, I’m not sorry. - Jon

The cliffs are quiet. They usually are, but Jon doesn’t find the silence creepy like nearly everyone else in Bournemouth. To him, they are a refuge from the whispers he has to hear when he goes farther than his gate, or the fascinated, horrified staring of the other children. People muttering prayers under their breath and turning away from him as he passes, or outright refusing to sell to him when his grandmother sends him on errands out into town. Even she, his guardian, looks at him with something approaching wariness and disgust. She doesn’t say anything when she finds the loose feathers scattering the house, but she tightens her lips disapprovingly every time as she sweeps them into the bin and then tells him to bind his wings tighter. Nobody likes the cliffs. They say they’re a haunted, cursed place, full of ill-omen and mischievous spirits. Perfect for a bad - luck child to spend his time in, then. Jon clambers up onto the temple ruins, hopping daringly from stone to stone. At the base of the rocky structure, he’s got a pack full of bread, some cheese and fish, and his favourite book. That should be enough to keep him going, wherever he’s going. The sun dips low on the horizon, and Jon stops his cavorting and turns to watch. Its orange eye casts his dark skin into light and shadow, reds and golds. His irises are a rich honey colour in the glow of the last day-light’s rays.  He sits and watches until the sky goes red, then mauve, and finally, a deep clear blue. A breeze comes from somewhere beyond the cliffs, and it smells like fresh rain and something spicy, like a cooking hearth on the wind. Jon pulls off his shirt, then, as the stars start to blink into existence one by one like distant, observing beings opening their eyes. He reaches over his shoulder to unbuckle the leather harnesses holding his wings closed, one after another. When the bands fall away, he groans, and bites his cheek as first one wing shudders and shakes open, and then the other follows, the tension barking deep into his back from muscles taut and muscles knotted. He almost wants to cry from the pain, but his grandmother always told him that if he was to be a boy, boys never cried. Jon thinks about that now, then gives in and sobs into his fists as his wings tremble, shake, and twitch involuntarily. The tears glitter in the last light as they fall to the stone at his feet, but don’t last long. Jon breathes a sigh of relief when the cramping feeling eases, when he can stretch and twist and flap without pain. His wings should be malformed, and patchy, and basically useless by now, and if his grandmother and the townsfolk had had their way, they would be. Bound and compressed until they grew in on themselves, became shapeless lumps of feather and flesh that could be hacked off when he was older. His bad luck over, his shame removed at last. But Jon loves his wings, always has and against his grandmother’s wishes, or even her knowledge, he’s been using them. He’s been practising. And today, he will fly, and he will leave Bournemouth and all the superstitious people he’s grown up with behind. He is eleven, for goodness-sake. And he’s made up his mind to run away. The cliffs are still quiet, when Jon decides it's time to go. He’s stood on the edge many, many times, and peered down to see if he can catch a glimpse of what’s down there, but there’s been a thick fog that covers everything since before he was born, and as he looks now, it's no different. Well, one thing is different. The stars are singing again. Jon tips his head up to catch the melody, but it's so faint as to be ethereal. Jon walks back over to where his pack is, tying it to his chest, securely. He tugs on the strap a few times, just to see if it’ll go anywhere. With that sorted, Jon looks back to the edge of his known world. He could go home, he could have his wings surgically removed when he’s older, and he could live a normal life. Normal’s never appealed much to him, though. With an air of a person who’s decidedly late for an appointment, he strides towards the cliff edge.

He pauses, just for a moment, to look up at the sky again, and then he spreads his wings and throws himself into the nothing. Jon falls without a sound, and the fog swallows him and leaves no trace. If anyone misses him in the coming days, they don’t say a thing. Even his grandmother doesn't go looking for him. She simply carries on as she always has. Just like that, Jonathan Sims, the tragic, unfortunate cursed child, is forgotten. And life goes on. 

[sheltershock]

(Sorry for the long text post, but if you want to read, this is a 2k word essay about Sasha’s backstory.)

I know that Sasha running away from home after discovering as a child that his parents had sex is a well known, and often joked about, aspect of his character. However, to me, I don’t think that is the reason he ran away from home. That earth shattering discovery might have been the catalyst, but not the reason. 

Trigger Warning for Emotional Neglect. 

There’s a lot to say about Sasha and his level/mindscape, which is great. But something that has always fascinated and impressed me was the memory vaults specifically. Sasha’s two memory vaults not only helps flesh out his character, makes him relatable to the player, and thoroughly explains his relationship dynamic with Razputin. And all of this is done without words. 

The first big thing to say about Sasha’s First Loss is that it’s the only memory vault to be displayed in first person(in the typical style. Loboto’s is in 3D so it’s different), aka through Sasha’s eyes. The artistic reason why it’s in first person is because since Sasha is a baby at this point in his life, the artist can use baby furniture and his size to set up framing and composition to tell the story. The story reason for why it’s in first person is because more emotional emphasis can be placed more on his father. Whenever we see tragic stuff in memory vaults we get to see the character who experienced the memory so we can see their anger/sadness/joy/etc. But there’s already emotional baggage next to the vault and it’s titled “Sasha’s First Loss” so we already know what emotion is attached going in. But seeing Sasha’s father’s reaction to his wife’s death is actually really important contextually looking at Sasha’s early life.

The thing is, his dad never really got over his mom’s death. And that ruined everything. It’s like if the start of your life to the end was a race you had to run, and then the announcer says “ready, get set, go” and fired the gun into the air to start the race, waited five seconds, and then shot Sasha in the ankle and expected him to keep going. Of course this leg of the race was going to end horribly. 

After we see Sasha’s mother’s soul leave her body, the next slide is of Sasha watching through a window as his dad is grieving/burying his wife. His hand is on the window, as if to reach out to where his parents are, but the pane of glass physically blocks them from reaching each other. This is the first artistic representation of their father-son relationship after his mother’s death. Distance. 

The slide after the burying scene is the last one of the memory vault, and it’s my favorite. It depicts Sasha looking at his dad through bars of a baby gate. On Sasha’s side, in the foreground, are blocks and baby toys on a soft blanket. On the other side of the gate, in the middle ground, is a framed photo of his mother sitting, perpetually smiling behind a pane of glass. And in the background of the image, his father is sitting as far as he can be from the foreground, looking out a window with his hands folded and an open book in his lap. I love how the bars of the babygate separate the layers of the image from his dad and the photo of his mom. Especially with the detail that the photo is physically closer to Sasha than his actual living father, yet is still barred from both of them. You can really see the emotional distance the tragedy has caused for the two of them.  

This slide not only utilizes the distance from the previous slide, but also introduces a new concept, attention. Despite the fact that your wife just died and you have an infant/toddler to look after, Sasha’s father has instead elected to read a book and look out a window. He doesn’t look at his child, which is a detail that returns in the second vault. 

In Sasha’s Second Sight the first slide contains a far older, but still really young, Sasha working in the cobbling store with his dad. This memory vault is in the traditional third person point of view so we can actually see Sasha’s face this time. Again, the distance between the two is obvious. Sasha is in the foreground on the right side, meanwhile his father is in the background but on the left. It’s immediately clear that they never really got closer all these years later. Another detail is that even though they’re both working, Sasha is still looking towards his dad, like in the previous vault, yet his dad’s attention still  isn’t on him. 

The second slide depicts them both at a work table, but his father is the only one working. Sasha is instead holding up a picture of his mom, the same one from the first vault, and asking about her, meanwhile his dad refuses to share anything. While they are physically closer in this slide, all that credit is removed by the fact that his father’s back is turned to Sasha. Creating yet another barrier between the two. 

The third slide is Sasha attempting to look into his father’s thoughts because despite the fact his surname literally means “no” he does not want to take that as an answer. His father’s back is still turned to his son, but he’s grasping his face, clearly still grieving after all this time. We already know what happens on slides four through six, mind reading stuff. Instead I’m skipping to slide seven, where Sasha is now very mentally disturbed. 

In his panic, he’s actually turned to face away from his father, but is still glancing towards his direction. And the final slide, slide eight, Sasha runs away from home. Again the distance is there, and stronger than ever. Sasha’s in the foreground, his dad is in the background, and Sasha’s already down the street with a bag over his shoulder. Interestingly enough, Sasha is still glancing back towards his dad, as he watches his son run away from home from the doorway of the store. His dad is just standing there, watching this happen. He’s not calling out for him, or asking if he’s going to be coming back, he just watches. And this is the second time in both memory vaults that his dad actually looks in Sasha’s general direction. I’m serious. The first time was before his wife died and he’s making eye contact with Sasha as his wife does that thing people like to do where they toss their baby into the air and catch them(Sasha’s First Loss, Slide Three). After that point, he never looks at his son until he’s actively running away from him.

Okay, so what’s the point of this? The two big things, distance and attention. Both memory vaults have shown both how far apart emotionally they are from each other, and how Sasha is always looking towards his dad but never getting his attention. And I understand why his dad is acting like this. Loss is complicated and if you get stuck with a child that actively reminds you of that person you lost and is asking about them, I understand why he’d avert his eyes. However, Sasha is a child, with only one living parent that will not look at him. I ask you this: what exactly is Sasha losing by running away from home from an emotional standpoint? Absolutely nothing. All he had of his mother was a framed photo, hidden behind glass, much like the image of his father grieving over a grave. That's all they are to each other, they knew this woman, but in two very clearly different ways. But now, Sasha’s perspective on his mother has changed due to mind reading. He wouldn’t be living with this man who knew his mother and be willing to endure a tense living situation for stories. Now the tension has evolved into discomfort as all this man’s stories will have that underlying image of what he saw, and he doesn’t even seem to like having Sasha around. 

Another point towards my argument that it was the neglect that led to the decision is that we know from Razputin that running away is technically a decision that can be reversed. You could go back home, or a relative can go get you and bring you back. But in the last slide of Sasha running away, his father isn’t going to go chase after his kid like Augustus would do. Sasha’s father just kind of… accepts it? He doesn’t know that his kid read his mind, all he’s aware of is that after years of raising this child, he runs away from home and just lets it happen. And from Sasha’s perspective, while yes, his mind is probably torturing himself with new knowledge, he’s still looking back from where he came. But much like how his father’s back was turned to him, creating a barrier between them, his father is standing in front of the store’s door. And his father is built like a fridge, so there might as well be a blockade in front of the door. If your own dad won’t even look in your general direction why the hell would you want to go back to that with the added pressure of already having run away?

Okay, so remember Razputin? It’s fun seeing all the mentor/dad-figure Sasha and Raz content; and it’s very sweet. But it actually makes sense from a character perspective in the text. Sasha’s grown up now and becomes an international superstar secret agent, gets to be a camp counselor, and suddenly this child who’s extremely psychically gifted breaks into the camp. Turns out that this kid ran away from home…and doesn’t want his father to come pick him up due to some strange related angst. Huh. Compelling. Of course Sasha sees himself in this child he’s known for like two hours. It’s like looking into the past really, and Sasha is dying for the chance to take this kid aside for some tests, alone from everyone else. Sasha sees a lot of untapped potential in this kid, and doesn’t doubt the damage Razputin can do. And now he’s teaching this kid PSI-Blast and trying to impart life lessons like keeping control of the mind… He’s putting himself in danger through this shooting course, and ends up pushing Raz out of the way when things really start taking a turn for the worse and making himself take on any pain. He’s letting Raz make a few mistakes, but making sure he’s safe. Just like a parent would do… And oddly enough, throughout the Marksmanship lesson, he’s always keeping a watchful gaze over Razputin and standing close enough that he can feel his presence but not invade the kid’s personal space. It’s almost like he’s stepping into a father figure role for this runaway. Because that is exactly what Sasha’s doing, whether it’s intentional from him or not. 

I like to think that Sasha being there as a support for Raz in a way that he wanted/needed as a child is actually a form of healing for him. It’s like that thing where new parents try to be a better version of their parents so they can prevent mistakes. I know Raz was unconscious while Augustus was walking around talking to all the adults so we never get to see him interact with Sasha. But I like to think that he’d be relieved that Razputin’s father immediately chased after his son. And especially relieved that Augustus acknowledges his past wrongdoing and is going to make more of an effort to be there in support of Razputin. It’s sweet to me that at the end of the first game Sasha specifically includes Raz for the Truman Kidnapping mission, stepping up to him, looking down at him and referring to Raz as their “anti-kidnapping specialist.”

Sasha’s backstory always seemed pretty emotionally complex to me, and naturally fit with his relationship with Raz. And like how Milla’s name is pronounced with the obvious “a boy I thought was cute said it wrong so I will say it wrong the rest of my life” explanation is just a surface level, but still valid interpretation, this is my interpretation of Sasha’s early life and the decision to run away. 

[shytastemakerthing]

Giyuu finding a poor child reader who obviously malnourished, abused and scared and feeling horrible takes them in. After the child gets healed at the butterfly estate Giyuu adopted them Angst with a happy ending

Hello! Thank you so much for your request! I had quite a few different ideas when it came to this ask so I hope the one that I settled for is to your liking. Enjoy!

Tw: Mentions of past abuse, neglect, and trauma, man eating demons

Pairing: Platonic!Child reader and Giyuu Tomioka

It hadn't been more than a week ago when you had stumbled down the stairs of the old and decrepit building that you had called home, hearing the sounds of screams, unlike the usual ones that would come from mother and father fighting once again. Then to be met with the strong scent of iron, your blood running cold as you saw the mutilated bodies of what used to be your parents, a demon crouched over them, tearing into the remaining flesh. When most children would scream upon a sight, seeing their own family ripped to shreds and being eaten by such a monster, you were dull to the sensation, in a way, you believed it was karma coming after them at last.

The demon, perhaps too interested in its newfound meal, paid you no mind, allowing you to easily walk from the home, for the first time in, well, you weren't exactly sure. It had been a while. You were never allowed to play outside with the other children, and they never came to visit either.

For hours and hours you had walked, the cold nipping at your bare toes and rag covered form, dirt sticking to any available skin it could latch onto, your stomach growled, begging for nutrients as you scavenged for what could possibly be even remotely edible. And so it continued on. Sleeping where you could find shelter, eating any leftovers you could find, drinking water from puddles or rain barrels. You were cold, hungry, in pain from your head to your toes.... you were alone.

But fate seemed to have other plans for you.

The dark clouds hung in the sky, a harsh rain pouring down feeling like needles against your skin. The usually busy streets were empty, everyone seeking refuge from the storm and no business would allow you inside given your state. But, help came in the form of a stranger. A man clad in a patterned haori. Red on one side, green and yellow on the other. And he knelt down in front of your shivering form, instantly causing you to recoil back, Adults only brought you pain in your life. The beatings still fresh within your mind, and you could see a strange look pass through his eyes, his hand extending out towards you, before he spoke.

"It's alright, I'm not here to hurt you. Would you like some help?" His words seemed..... soothing, and you weren't sure if you could trust him or not. You had seen this before. Mother would be the same way. Nice. And then things got bad again. But, he didn't exactly seem like mother. No, his words were nice, his words were calm. His words were warm.

You couldn't stop the hot tears beginning to boil in your eyes, feeling them slide down your cheeks. When was the last time anyone asked if you had needed help? Picking up on the emerging tears, you were picked up by the man, his hold firm, but warm, and for once in your life, you knew what it was like to feel peace.

Giyuu could only stand transfixed as the small child curled into his arms, seeming to nestle their head into the warmth of his uniform, eyes falling heavy before they eventually closed, their breaths evening out as sleep overcame them. The state of this child, who could be no more than six, maybe even seven, their life had not been easy. He could easily feel just how light they were, the state of their clothing naught but rags, hair knotted, and from what he could see through the rags of their clothing, old injuries still in a state of healing. He couldn't leave them. Not when they desperately needed help, leading him to the only place where he knew for certain that they would feel safe, where they would get the care it is that they need.

News within the Butterfly Mansion spread rather swiftly as soon as Giyuu had made it through the doors, the small child still nestled and sleeping within his harms. Even when he tried to lay them down for Shinobu to properly examine the state of their injuries, it was noticed that the child clung onto him much tighter, face turning into a small grimace.

"It seems that they've taken a liking to you. You said you found them huddled alone in an alley?" For once, Shinobu didn't see the need to pester the water breather, which he was grateful for at the current time. The child was more important.

"Indeed. In their state, I doubt they have any proper care at any point in their life. This state of malnourishment simply doesn't happen over night and much of their injuries are older."

Giyuu seemed to hold the child much closer to him, taking over a more keen look at their state. To think that someone could actually treat a child in such a manner, it made him sick. What mattered now is that they could get this child properly cared for.

When you awoke again, the air was warmer, and the room smelled of wisteria. In a panic, your body was quick to remind you that you were still quite injured, but the feeling of something rather soft also drew your attention.

The futon you laid on was soft and comfortable, a stark contrast to the cold hard streets you had been used to, and then the wooden floor before that. Simple sleepwear now covers your small form, and your skin, it was clean. You couldn't see a single speck of dirt, your hair felt light and fluffy.

You began to feel as if this was some sort of paradise, a dream that was far too good to be true, but the sound of someone walking within the room quickly grabbed your attention and that was when you saw the same man from the day before. At least, you thought it was the day before.

His face was just as calm as when you first saw him, and in his hands, resides a steaming bowl of what looked to be a broth of sorts, one that caused your stomach to growl loudly at the delicious smell, one that caused a hint of a smile to come to the mans face as he sat down next to you.

"Wh...wh-where am I? Who are you?" It was perhaps the first set of words you had said in some time, your throat feeling dry, and words hoarse after finally being used once. It was then that the man sat down next to the futon that you still sat on.

"I am Giyuu, Giyuu Tomioka, and you are in the Butterfly Mansion. As soon as I was holding you, you had fallen fast asleep, so, I brought you here, where you would be safe. My... coworkers, I guess you could call them, helped me get you all cleaned up. Now, let's get something in that belly of yours before we talk some more, alright?" You eye the bowl that he held in his hands, before looking back to him. A part of you wanted to believe that this was too good to be true, but it was something that just felt as if this was right, that this was real, and thus, you nodded your head.

Letting him use the spoon to bring the broth to your mouth, it was very close to making you cry again. It was delicious, it was warm, it made your body relax even more. More and more spoonfuls were given until the broth was completely gone, and your belly felt full for the first time in ages. It was better than anything else you've ever had before.

Feeling the tears come back once more, you sniffed softly before finding yourself holding onto Giyuu, the man that found you, that took care of you, and had done more for you in the span of a single day than your own parents did in so many years. Was this what life is really supposed to be like?

You could feel his arms stiffen just a bit before he held onto you. keeping your small body close. Unknown to you, you had managed to warm your way right into his heart in all of a day, and he knew from here, he only trusted himself to be able to take care of you. And something everyone else had already seen, you had already latched onto him, even if only in your sleep. You finally felt safe. No words needed to be spoken, he may not be your biological father, but he would care for you and raise you as a father truly should.

Giyuu knew that you had a rather long road ahead of you. Your life had not been easy, but from this moment on, he vowed to himself that he would take care of you, to give you the life that you truly deserve. You knew that things would be much better for you now, with your new father, you would never have to be afraid again.

Requests are open!

[credensjusitiam]

In the Dark - Billy/Stu fanfiction

Plot: “I don’t know man, maybe I should kill your dad.”

Stu and Billy on a bad night. Pre-canon. One-sided toxic ship.

Please see Ao3 tags for trigger warnings.

[sortofanobsession]

Beyond Frustration (Buddie AU)

I was going through old works and drafts and this idea wasn't exactly requested but it jumped out at me. And figured I hadn't done an Alpha Beta Omega in a while. May do a part 2 if anyone wants it.

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911 Masterlist

Summary: Lawsuit Era A/B/Ω AU where Alpha Eddie marks and bonds Omega Buck after Buck was trapped under the truck. The lawsuit puts their bond, and unknowingly to Eddie, their unborn child, at risk. Eddie learns how big of a mistake he has made in almost the worst way possible. Almost.

Paring: Alpha!Eddie Diaz/Omega!Evan "Buck" Buckley

Word count: 2k+

Content Warning: Anger, Neglect, Hospitalization, A/B/Ω mpreg, Fear, physical violence (Eddie gets slapped), Fear of Miscarriage, High Risk Pregnancy.

Eddie's inner alpha clawed at him as they left the deposition. And all it did was piss him off further. Buck had told that asshole things he'd sworn to keep to himself. The alpha had seen the way his omega's betrayal hurt the whole team. The team that was also very much their pack. Their family. But his alpha clawed at him. He didn't understand why it was acting like that. His mate had betrayed them and their pack. The mate he had taken care of and protected after the omega was injured in the bombing. The one he had bared his soul to and bonded with. No, his inner alpha may be driven by the baser instinct to be with his mate at any cost, but Eddie wasn't going to give in. He should have known better, especially after what happened with Shannon. Shannon had been the mother of his pup. And then came back just to ruin his life again. He had tried to make it work for his secondary nature. To have a real family, a true pack. And that had gone to shit. He'd let his alpha nature trick him again. But fool him once and all that bs. He wasn't going to give in a third time. No.

Buck was struggling. It wasn't unheard of for an omega to be a single parent. But it was well known that a strong bond and loving relationship for a mated omega was ideal. A bonded omega, separated from their mate, especially an alpha mate, under great stress, and being a somewhat rare male omega, was a high risk pregnancy in the making.

During a shift Eddie's inner alpha goes damn near feral. Something is wrong and he knows it. But Eddie had been suppressing his secondary nature for so long, even using medication to further subdue it, his alpha isn't strong enough to make Eddie's more stubborn and supposedly logical side understand. And Eddie does not realize how big a mistake he has made until he gets a terrifying call from Christopher. Carla had gotten a call from the hospital. Buck was not well. And since Carla was the only contact Buck had allowed them to reach out to. Eddie finally realizes what his alpha had been trying to tell him over the last few hours. His alpha nature has been reacting to the bond the shared with his mate. Eddie was just too numb to feel it. And that was a terrifying thought. As mad as he and the others were with the no contact order because of the lawsuit, they still had the slight comfort that Eddie would know if something happened to Buck. When Eddie tells them about the phone call they rush to the hospital.

The second Eddie steps into the hospital he is met with a hard slap. He recoils at first and nearly lashes out when he realizes it’s Maddie. His mate’s beta sister.

“You were supposed to protect him!” She shouts at the alpha. Before Eddie can say anything she has turned her ire on the captain. “You too!” She looks from face to face, every member of the 118. “All of you! You told him he was family! That you would be there for him!”

“Maddie,” Chimney starts but she turns on her heels and disappears behind a set of doors.

The receptionist stone walls them when they try to get any information. Eddie can feel his inner alpha suffering. Eddie was so close to his mate he could just start to feel him. His omega's scent had clung to Maddie. And it tore at the alpha’s heart.

“Eddie,” Carla says as she meets them.

“If you're here, where is Christopher?” Bobby asks. As upset as the captain and his inner alpha was he knew it was nothing compared to what Eddie was feeling. Guilt and fear clouded Eddie's usual scent. Bobby could understand that. The captain had lost a mate before. He knew the panic not knowing created. Eddie wasn't in his right mind now.

“He's with Buck, since they had a sort of bond they hoped it would help. Maddie too.”

“Did it?” Hen asks.

“He's stable, but there is something I need to tell you…”

Eddie hates himself. He would never forgive himself for what he had done. He would grovel and beg Buck to forgive him. He prays to any higher power that would listen to let him fix this. To not take his family from him. He couldn't lose his mate. It would destroy him. He'd spend the rest of his life begging his pups to forgive him. He'd be there for every major milestone for both Christopher and their unborn miracle, if they let him. He was a mess by the time they reached Buck’s room. Maddie glared at the alpha as he entered.

Christopher made his way over to Eddie and buried his face in his father's shirt. Eddie drops to his knees.

“I'm sorry, buddy, I'm so sorry,” the alpha begs. “This never should have happened.”

Once Christopher had calmed down, Carla took him out into the hall to go see the rest of the team.

Maddie leaves to call her parents. She glares at the alpha as she does. The alpha goes over and carefully takes the omega's hand in his. The barely there curve of his pregnant mate’s stomach breaks something in the alpha. It wasn’t prominent, but he had known Buck's body as well as he knew his own. And he could see it now. He doesn't know how he could have missed it at the deposition. Even the omega's scent smelled sweeter. Had his anger clouded his senses that much? He now understands why his inner alpha had been so distressed that day. His pregnant mate was just a few feet from him and he couldn't go to him. The omega had looked so tired and sad, but Eddie had been too bitter to see what the entire situation had been doing to his mate. And Eddie could see it now. Buck was too thin, too pale, for a pregnant omega. He looks fragile and broken. And Eddie just wanted to crawl in the bed beside him. He wanted to scent his mate. Hold him. Do whatever he needed to repair their fragile bond. But before he can do anything but take a shattered breath a woman in a lab coat walks in. She's a beta that smells overly sterile.

“He's sedated,” she says before she even introduces herself. Once she has she levels the alpha with a weary look. “You are his mate, correct? His alpha?”

Eddie nods, barely trusting his voice. “Y-yeah, yes, I am.”

“His sister said you two are bonded, correct?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers, his hand gripping Buck's a bit tighter as he does.

The doctor nods and after making a note in the omega's file she checks Buck’s vitals and compares them to his chart and updates it. Eddie watches her carefully. Only when she is done does she give the alpha any attention again.

“How are they?” Eddie manages to ask.

“He is stable and his condition is slowly improving.”

“So they're okay?”

“As a medically trained first responder, I'm sure you can understand the gravity of the situation at hand,” the doctor starts.

Eddie nods but hopes that by saying nothing the doctor will actually answer his question.

“Did you know about your mate's condition?”

“No,” Eddie half sobs. “I had no idea.”

“Okay,” the doctor says and seems to be considering something before she speaks again. “In cases of neglect like this there is a full investigation,” she says and the alpha has to sit down because to have it put so bluntly was jarring.

“Whatever needs to happen, just please, don't make me leave.”

“Oh as his bonded mate you need to stay, it may be the only thing that keeps his condition from worsening. But I have to legally inform you that your behavior will be heavily monitored and any signs of distress will be dealt with in whatever manner we deem necessary, which may include asking you to leave, and getting the authorities involved if necessary. And if your mate or his family wish to seek legal action, we are obligated to assist them.”

“I don't care what you have to do, I’ll do anything,” Eddie insists. “I just want him to be okay.”

The doctor seems to study the alpha for a full minute.

“I believe you, Mr. Diaz,” she finally says. “And I trust that you being here will not worsen the situation. And if it does that you will act accordingly. I understand that there have been some strenuating circumstances in this particular case. I hope for your sake, and your mate's, that things only get better from here. We will be keeping a close eye on him.”

The doctor excuses herself after that. And what little control Eddie has on his emotions fails. He buries his face in his mate's neck and sobs. He is nothing without Buck. He isn't even a good dad these days without him. He's been trying, but Christopher is still suffering from the after effects of the tsunami and not having his Buck there has made it all the more difficult. The omega had been with him during the terrible experience. It had made the bond the two already had stronger. And Eddie had denied both of them that much needed connection. He was a failure as an alpha. He was a failure as a father. Worst of all, he was a failure as a mate. He neglected his bond and his bonded mate and it nearly cost him everything. He could have lost both his mate and the unborn pup he didn't even know existed. Now that he knows he can't possibly let go. The only reason he would ever leave now was if Buck wanted him to. If his mate couldn't forgive him, the alpha would understand. Eddie sure as hell wasn't ever going to forgive himself.

Eddie wakes up to fingers in his hair and he almost doesn't want to move, but as he inhales the chemically tainted smell of his mate he remembers where he is and why he is there. His head snaps up and he looks into the tired blue eyes of his mate.

“Buck,” is all the alpha manages to say in a broken tone. The numbness that he had felt the past few days gone as the wave of emotions hit him. He can feel their bond again. And it shatters something in him. “I'm sorry.” It's half sobbed and shaken.

Buck had woken up to a weight on his arm that hadn't been there before. The more he thinks, the more he realizes it was a familiar weight. Paired with a feeling he had longed for. His eyes tear up as he inhales and takes in the familiar scent of his mate, but there is something off about it. It has the omega opening his eyes. His alpha is distressed. And yeah, that tracks. The omega blinks tears away as he looks around the hospital room. He has no idea how long he has been there, but by the way Eddie is passed out curled against him it had been a while. And he let his tears fall because Eddie was there. His mate had not only come to his bedside, but was pressed against his side like any distance between was unbearable. After so long without his mate, and now his senses were flooded with him, the omega finally felt some semblance of home. He felt complete again. His hands itched to feel that electricity he always felt when they touched. His hands card through the alpha's unkempt mess of hair.

The omega’s heart clenches at the the sheer level of pain and devastation in the alpha’s voice. Buck gets a real good look at his partner’s face and he looks so raw and broken that the omega wants nothing more than to make things better. But Buck can't forget the reason they are there. His eyes move to his own stomach. Before he can even voice his fears, fears Eddie must feel through their bond, the alpha’s hand rubs along the sheet covered swell.

“Pup’s all right,” Eddie says, his voice now filled with conviction. The alpha's voice is in Buck's ear. The omega can feel the heat of his mate's hand through the fabric on his stomach. The combined sensation and the renewed feelings coursing through him sends a shiver down his spine and sends his heart soaring. It must show in his heart monitor at the way the alpha beside him chuckles. It nearly doubled when he feels Eddie's lips gently brush across the bonding mark on the omega's neck. The feeling of love and safety he has missed for weeks is damn near overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie tells him again. And between the look on the alpha's face and the feeling of guilt that flows through their bond has Buck believing him. Combined with the omega's heightened emotions and hormones, Buck couldn't imagine holding any of it against the alpha. Not really.

“I know,” Buck tells him, his own tone a little sad. It's sad, because this whole situation could have been avoided if they had just tried to talk. And he thinks Eddie must feel the same way at the way the alpha’s hand shifts from rubbing the omega's swollen belly to pulling Buck closer to him. And Buck goes willing shifting until his back is flush against the alpha's chest. The alpha protectively curled around him.

“I love you, you know that right? More than anything in the world,” Eddie says.

“Except Christopher,” Buck corrects.

“I love him and this little one,” Eddie states, his hand gently pressing against the swell of the unborn pup. “But that's a different kind of love,” the alpha insists.

The omega swoons a bit at that. He had spent the last few weeks terrified of Eddie rejecting not just him but the pup as well. The relief that Eddie still loved him and wanted him, but that he wanted their pup too was amazing. That the alpha was happy to not just claim the pup as his but say he already loved them. It was like having a large weight removed from the omega's shoulders. That fear had been like an albatross around his neck. And Eddie must feel it all through the bond because, again, Eddie holds him tighter. The alpha’s lips press against the skin behind the omega's ear.

“I'm here now. Not going anywhere.”

The alpha holds the omega as he cries but it doesn't last long. Because Buck is still exhausted and Eddie is warm. The omega is more comfortable and feels better than he has in weeks, maybe months. Buck falls asleep sheltered in his mate's arms.

The alpha tenses as the door opens. The former army medic might hate having his back to the door but the alpha was protectively curled around his pregnant mate. That was way more important than his own comfort.

“Well, don't you two look cozy,” the nurse, a lovely middle aged omega, says as she comes in.

“He woke up for a bit, but fell back asleep,” Eddie tells her as she goes to check the machines. The alpha goes to move to get up so she can check Buck’s vitals but she waves him off.

“You're fine,” she smiles. “The closer you stay the quicker the bond can help him feel better.” She gently checks Buck's pulse and nods.

“I’ll let the doctor know he was awake for a bit,” she says before leaving. Once she is gone he looks over at the clock. It early, but not too early that his pack would be mad at him texting them. As much as he hates the idea of moving from his comfortable spot, he needs his phone which is charging on the table next to the bed. Eddie gets up, stretching as he does. Buck whines in his sleep at the loss and rolls over as if to chase the alpha's fading warmth. It makes the alpha’s heart flutter. He quickly grabs his phone and returns to the bed. Buck now curled into his side with his face tucked in the alpha's neck. Eddie's inner alpha was happier than it had been since the pair bonded at the feel of the omega's bump against his side. And the feeling was heady. The alpha just wants to sit there and bask in the feeling of home that came from watching his vulnerable and trusting mate sleeping in his arms. But he knows he has a number of unanswered messages to deal with. So he silently, and slowly only having one hand to type with, lets Maddie, Carla, and the team know that Buck was doing better. He had woken up for a bit, but was resting now.

They had a lot they needed to sort out, but they would do it together. Lawsuit be damned. His mate and their family was now Eddie's primary focus. And he wasn't willingly going anywhere any time soon. Not unless Buck wanted him to. Even then the alpha wouldn't like it. He loved Buck too much to walk away now. He loved the family they had made. He was sure the others would understand.

When he was done with the messages he settled back down beside his mate and closed his eyes. He would dream of the life they were only just starting as a family, as a pack.