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irondad-defensesquad · 7 months

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Fly away, skyline pigeon

(also posted on AO3!)

It’s a beautiful day today. And a special one at that.

Not that anyone remembers that.

Tony waits outside, carrying his loyal bag (that secretly hides the book he took from the library and hasn’t returned since). He rocks himself back and forth, still in uniform. His shoes are kind of uncomfortable. They feel like Dad’s shoes…

He wonders if he’ll show up this time.

Well, that’s what he asks every single weekend.

There’s not really a place to sit out here and he doesn’t want to get dirt on his uniform. At least it doesn’t take long for Tony to see the car.

He gulps and adjusts his tie. Even though he’s going home.

As the car approaches…

There’s no one in the back seat.

Once the vehicle stops, only one man appears. He’s well dressed but he’s not his father.

“Master Tony.”

Jarvis is smiling at him.

Tony still expects someone else to miraculously come out of the car.

…

“Let me take your bag, sir.”

Tony cringes at the “sir”, as he always does, but he doesn’t mention it. The bag is not even that heavy, but Jarvis takes it either way to put in the trunk. Tony opens the door himself, having all that space for himself. Jarvis doesn’t question it and they take off, leaving the fields to return to the Stark mansion.

Tony has questions. But he probably knows the answers.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Master Tony?”

“Where…” the boy hesitates. “Where’s Mom?”

At some point, Mom would fill Howard’s absence with her warm hugs and sweet kisses. But nowadays, it kind of feels like she gave up on him now that he’s in boarding school.

“I’m afraid she’s with your father, arranging your birthday party.”

“Oh.”

He knew that.

Then, why is he… disappointed? He doesn’t even like going home.

But today is different, isn’t it? They should be here. Yet they’re more worried about the party than him.

Tony doesn’t cry, though. Crying is for sissies, like his father says.

So, he distracts himself with the landscape – the big wide blue sky, the birds flying away, the open green fields… Tony sees the birds flying, free.

(What he could give to fly away with them…)

Gradually, the freedom is being filled by the city concrete, the many houses and cars and buildings. Tony sighs, head glued to the window. He feels nothing inside him. This is just another day. The party doesn’t even matter. He’s just going to have to be stiff and greet his parents’ business partners and he’s going to fail at befriending their kids who don’t even like him.

They have so many of these parties, that it’s really no different when it’s Tony’s birthday.

He wishes he could’ve stayed in school.

…

Wait.

They’re not going home.

He knows that way.

But… why?

“Jarvis, where are we going?” Tony asks either way.

“Oh, I just thought we might take a little detour before heading home.”

They soon stop at Jarvis’ destination, apparently.

Tony hasn’t been here in forever. The last time he was here was when Mom was still picking him up from school.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?” Jarvis wonders.

“Well, yeah… but…”

The butler just waits. He’s very much ready to leave. He values Tony’s decision.

The young boy looks at the empty space next to him. As much as he’s grown used to it, he just wants one different day. One different birthday.

Tony sighs and… smiles.

“Nevermind. Let’s go.”

This is the one Häagen-Dazs in their neighborhood that his mother has always loved. It’s very weird being here without her. She always ordered vanilla ice cream while he got chocolate, then they would try each other’s flavors.

Things just aren’t the same anymore.

“You can order anything you want, sir,” Jarvis tells him.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Hey, Jarvis, I have money with me.”

“Nonsense, today is a special day. You deserve all the ice cream you want.”

The young Stark would’ve declined, but Jarvis sounds so truthful that Tony can’t really contest it. With this, Tony gets an ice cream cone with chocolate and, this time, coffee. He’s eating it quietly while Jarvis briefly leaves, coming back with a handful of napkins.

“We don’t want Master Tony getting ice cream on his school uniform, do we?” Jarvis points out.

Oh, right. Tony forgot he’s still in uniform.

The butler usually stands on his feet with a blank face, ready for any demand. But now that it’s just Tony, Jarvis is… sitting with him? They’re facing one another? Jarvis is always so serious and formal. Well, he still calls the boy “sir” or “Master Tony”, but right now he’s the most casual Tony has seen him.

Tony eventually realizes something.

“You’re not going to get anything?”

Jarvis looks at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

“You don’t want any ice cream?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“No, come on. Try mine.”

“Really?” Jarvis smirks.

“Yeah, really. Well, I dunno if you like chocolate or coffee, but you gotta try it.”

“Why, thank you.”

Jarvis takes a very small bite with the paddle. He hums and seems content.

“You have great taste, Master Tony,” he compliments.

“You barely tasted anything!”

Jarvis’ grin is contagious, so much that Tony is laughing.

“Alright, alright.” He takes a slightly bigger piece. He hums again, pleased. “Like I said, you have great taste.”

“Told you,” Tony smiles.

They are quiet again.

Tony kind of misses the vanilla.

He could order it later, if he wants.

But is it going to be the same thing?

“How has school been, sir?” Jarvis asks, maybe noticing his smile falling.

“It’s fine.”

“Have you built anything?”

“Nothing interesting.”

“I’m sure everything you build is interesting.”

“Tell that to Dad.”

Tony feels terrible sounding so rude. But everything in his head decides to crash down and he’s not even able to apologize to his butler.

“... why?”

“Why what?” Jarvis raises an eyebrow.

“Why did you bring me here?” Tony doesn’t raise his voice, but he certainly still sounds bitter. “Did Mom and Dad ask you to? Or did you just feel sorry for me?”

Jarvis doesn’t react the same way. He’s completely calm. Tony doesn’t understand.

“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?” The man says genuinely. Like there are no other intentions behind it. He really just wanted to be here with Tony. After all, he could just do his job and pretend the boy doesn’t exist.

But he’s being the most considerate out of the adults in his life.

Why?

“... you didn’t have to do this,” he says instead.

He definitely sounds ungrateful, but he feels so guilty.

Jarvis comes a little closer to say something only Tony should hear.

“Well, it’s your special day. You don’t need to be Tony Stark right now. You can be just Tony, a boy who likes ice cream.”

And that’s how Jarvis sees him. A boy named Tony. Just a boy.

That shuts him up for good.

There are so many feelings inside him…

But they’re not all that bad.

The party goes on like his parents intended. Tony is stuck with a lot of people that couldn’t care less, as usual.

But now… now Tony knows that at least one person in this world is rooting for him, in the back. Jarvis, of course, is working tonight. Still, every time he sees Tony, he gives him an encouraging smile that no one else notices.

Throughout the party, the boy finally realizes what he must do. The real words he wants to say.

It’s already over, only the staff and his parents are around to put everything away. Tony flees when nobody's looking, hiding something precious in his hands. Luckily, he finds Jarvis in the kitchen and he’s by himself.

“Pssst,” Tony tries to catch his attention, which works.

“Ah, hello, Master Tony. Do you need anything?”

“Actually…” Tony looks behind him. “I wanted to give you something.”

“I thought it was your birthday?” Jarvis jokes.

“Yeah, and I want you to have some cake.”

Even though it’s not really a present, Jarvis still looks surprised. He holds the cake like it’s a precious invention. Even though Tony didn’t really make it.

“Well, it’s fine if you don’t like it,” Tony rubs his own arm shyly. “I just wanted to say…”

He looks in so many directions, wanting to do one particular thing, but not sure if it’ll be unwelcome. And Jarvis is just there, looking at Tony like he’s a boy made of gold and not iron.

Finally, Tony looks behind them, checking if anyone is around.

Either way, he’ll be quick.

So… he does it.

“... thank you, Jarvis.”

Tony hugs Jarvis by his waist. For a brief moment, his mind tells him it’s going to go wrong. But before he can let go and pretend it never happened… Jarvis wraps an arm around him, patting his back. The other hand is probably still holding the cake. Even then, it’s so warm and welcoming that Tony could stay here forever.

“Always for you, sir.” He can tell Jarvis is smiling.

As much as home sucks… now Tony has a reason to come home.

#tony stark #edwin jarvis #dad jarvis #(is this a tag? lol)#abuse mention tw #neglect mention tw #fanfiction #fics #my fics #food mention

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ladyseidr · 3 months

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okay, headcanon dump for cassidy's survival AU ( appearance here )

her brother, jordan, is killed instead of her. whether or not jordan is a part of GF in this verse is. undecided as of rn lmao

cass and jordan both represented easy victims because, like, they're two kids with a barely present, seemingly uncaring mother. cass has been given eldest-sibling-turned-parent treatment, which means an eight year old is literally getting watched over by a 13-year-old. they love fre.ddy's and spend a ton of time there, and both are susceptible to wanting anyone to give a shit about them. honestly, i'd say jordan is the easier target anyway, because he isn't as untrusting or "difficult" as cassidy

anyway, in both this verse and canon verse, bethany ( their mother ) moves not long after the murder. there's a multitude of reasons for this, but honestly none are actually bad. nonetheless, it fucks cassidy up to have to attend a funeral ( with no body, mind you ) and then move the moment things are "settled" from the place he was born and raised

cassidy already acted out some pre-murder, but it worsens in the aftermath

he goes fully no-contact with his mother upon turning 18. unlike jordan, cassidy would not change his mind about this or be open to resuming contact. this isn't a moral statement on either btw, both were genuinely messed up due to how she raised them and both are valid in how they chose to handle that as adults

cass never forgot the mentions of other missing children around the time jordan disappeared. she starts looking into it heavily in high school and immediately goes back to hurricane when she has the chance

it's 1991, cassidy is 19, going on 20, and has only one purpose in life—finding who was behind her brother's murder ( because of course he's aware of the disappearances in the town since then too ) and quite literally killing them

yeah, she is in over her head lmao

while she doesn't specifically suspect william himself just yet, she is certain there's a connection to fred.dy's

while cass is fine with the name "cassidy," by adulthood he mostly introduces himself as "cass"

#˖ ♡ 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃. » e v e r h a u n t i n g ( cassidy marsden )#☆ —— verse ↳ y o u ' r e m i n e.#f n a f /#child death mention tw #murder mention tw #neglect mention tw #☽—— ⸢ queue ⸥

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animeandmangainsentences · 2 years

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Kotaro Lives Alone

A found family forms around a formerly abused/neglected 4-year-old who lives by himself and speaks in ye olde japanese. You will cry at the mere thought of tissues.

#kotaro lives by himself #kotaro lives alone #kotarou wa hitorigurashi #Manga Summaries #anime summaries #my post #abuse mention tw #neglect mention tw

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b4rredteeth · 1 year

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bold all that apply to your muse , memories of my childhood edition…

tw: contains mentions of abuse / neglect / death / trauma

For In-Ho

scraped knees, silent tears in a locked room, slamming doors, pervasive loneliness, a dog barking, rain on a metal roof, flinching at movement, the creak of an old house, forced laughter, wandering in the dark woods, wondering how you made it through, sudden loss, trying to make sense of the noise, hiding what you love to protect it, trying to explain but your words falter, invaded privacy, confusion at the pain, running barefoot in the grass, wondering what you did wrong and coming up with nothing, realizing you aren’t a priority, grass stains on white clothing, trying to earn love you will never have, being threatened over the smallest mistake, secrets you are warned not to share, the feeling of never being good enough, the hope things might someday get better, grief that aches in your bones, childish dares and pranks, the sense that your body isn’t yours, shame and guilt that aren’t yours to carry, sledding down a frozen hill, absentmindedly following snakes through the grass, punching a tree until your knuckles bleed, tears over every dead creature you find, searching out small places you can hide… just in case, climbing the tallest tree so they can’t touch you, the feeling of something tainted under your skin, a curious child told to stop asking, floral dresses, body tensing at approaching footsteps, anger with nowhere to go, brief escapes from the chaos, the purr of a contented cat, taking the blame to keep the peace, being told you’re too sensitive, the creaking springs of a trampoline on a sunny day

For Matevos

For Pesor

#inhomuse #pesormuse #matevosmuse #abuse mention tw #neglect mention tw #death mention tw #trauma mention tw

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doctordonovan · 2 years

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❝ the societal expectations about how love should be displayed vs maeve’s undeniable but so very different ways of expressing it and all the friction that must have caused earlier in her life ❞ aka a rant about maeve’s autism && how she shows affection

maeve was in foster care for the first chunk of her life - given up by birth mother before she was even one, not taken in by the donovans until 5 ½-ish ( and, not fully adopted until 7 ). it’s been a long time since I wrote about it but on this blog maeve is and always has been autistic: and whilst she’s incredible at masking as an adult, that’s a learnt skill, but there her life has been massively impacted time and time again by adults refusing to accept her differences.

little maeve being returned by foster family after foster family because they found her selective mutism ‘creepy’, or hated how she never cried when she was a baby / toddler or just… she wasn’t the child they wanted her to be. a tiny thing with too smart eyes, always watching, seeing more than someone her age should. she’s been told from the time she was only one that her emotions and ways of showing them are wrong. that she’s faulty.

it’s partly trauma - she learnt as a literal baby that crying would never make anyone care -, and partly the fact she’s not neurotypical. but it’s just so deeply coded in adult maeve that how she expresses herself naturally is wrong. so often she masks as hard as she can 24/7 - and in verses with bobby he probably uses it against her a lot.

maeve loves people so truly, so deeply, but if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t pay attention or wants loud love it’d probably be easy to miss it or not be satisfied. she shows it a thousand ways ( little touches, letting people in, letting her mask down and giving them what she thinks is a reason not to care for her ) and honestly she doesn’t ask for much back.

she loves people for free. she will be there for you no matter what, she will forgive you for so much even if her trust is something you might struggle to fully fix.

honestly, the fact most of her ship partners end up learning sign language so they can still get her to ‘talk’ to them when something shuts her down says so much about how understanding maeve is all about being willing to learn her language. if she’s hurting, she’ll never voice it, but she might be able to put it into sign language.

her heart isn’t on her sleeve, it’s in her hands.

but also: don’t get me wrong, in private she shows so much affection. the more safe she is with a person, the less personal space there is when doing things like sitting together. whilst she naturally gives people space, she still rests with a hand or arm on them bc she likes the reminder they’re there. if they’re the types to tug her closer, she often lies and listens to their heart.

in general - maeve keeps a good deal of space between herself and the world. it’s what she was taught to do. so in any circumstances, if you’re a person she can casually be close to or might touch without thinking... you’re in the rare position where you could crush her little heart.

#𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // headcanons #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // mannerisms #neglect mention tw #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // queue #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // headcanon

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doctordonovan-a · 2 years

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❝ the societal expectations about how love should be displayed vs maeve's undeniable but so very different ways of expressing it and all the friction that must have caused earlier in her life ❞ aka a rant about maeve’s autism && how she shows affection, based on katya breaking my heart

maeve was in foster care for the first chunk of her life - given up by birth mother before she was even one, not taken in by the donovans until 5 1/2-ish ( and, not fully adopted until 7 ). it’s been a long time since I wrote about it but on this blog maeve is and always has been autistic: and whilst she’s incredible at masking as an adult, that’s a learnt skill, but there her life has been massively impacted time and time again by adults refusing to accept her differences.

little maeve being returned by foster family after foster family because they found her selective mutism 'creepy', or hated how she never cried when she was a baby / toddler or just... she wasn't the child they wanted her to be. a tiny thing with too smart eyes, always watching, seeing more than someone her age should. she's been told from the time she was only one that her emotions and ways of showing them are wrong. that she's faulty.

it's partly trauma - she learnt as a literal baby that crying would never make anyone care -, and partly the fact she's not neurotypical. but it's just so deeply coded in adult maeve that how she expresses herself naturally is wrong. so often she masks as hard as she can 24/7 - and in verses with bobby he probably uses it against her a lot.

she loves people for free. she will be there for you no matter what, she will forgive you for so much even if her trust is something you might struggle to fully fix.

her heart isn’t on her sleeve, it’s in her hands.

in general though - maeve keeps a good deal of space between herself and the world. it’s what she was taught to do. so in any circumstances, if you’re a person she can casually be close to or might touch without thinking... you’re in the rare position where you could crush her little heart.

#𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // headcanons #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // mannerisms #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // PSAs #neglect mention tw #𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘: // queue

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nerves-nebula · 4 months

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finished product of that poll i held. enjoy.

#nnstuff #nnart #teenage mutant neglected turtles #neglected art #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #csa tw #incest tw #they're just mentioned but still #tmnt comic

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blu3b3rryj4mp1r3 · 5 months

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Friendly reminder that "I bought you nice things", "I gave you food and a roof over your head" and "I've never hit/physically hurt you" does not justify emotional abuse, neglect or parentification.

And if when being confronted they make you feel guilty and get defensive and passive aggressive saying some variant of "Oh well I must've been such a terrible parent!" and tell you how they bought you nice things for your birthdays and how your basic needs were met, that does not make your feelings and trauma invalid. You're not a bad person or ungrateful for feeling hurt.

#tw mentions of abuse #c ptsd #parental abuse #neglect #emotional neglect #parentification #tw parental abuse

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 months

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Solar: What’s Christmas?

Lunar: …

Moon: …

Sun: …

Earth: …

Ruin: …

Eclipse, in the background: How abused and neglected were you?

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punkstylerecovery · 1 year

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Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.

By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many people’s parents physically hurt them, how many people’s parents mock their insecurities, how many people’s parents don’t care for their children’s health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die?

And so many people don’t give a fuck. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t deserve shit. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to “respect our parents” in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people don’t even think twice about it.

But children DO deserve more than they’re generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and that’s vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no “societal power” to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck.

Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than they’re being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what we’re owed in parent/child relationships.

#parenting #Abuse #Tw abuse #child abuse tw #tw verbal abuse #tw suicide mention #Depression #Neglect tw #Parental Neglect #punkstyle #physical abuse tw #childcare??#dunno what else to tag this #whatever

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youredreamingofroo · 2 months

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Inner child

- -

"I know you were tired- So many hours of your days were spent being small, holding yourself together in the corner. Some days you could muster up a smile... Other days you could hardly get out of bed. It was all wrong. You were just a kid."

[ Transcript under the cut <3 ]

Panel 1 : I remember how sad you were

Panel 2 : You'd go to the bathroom every morning and cry.

Panel 3 : You were angry. But too feeble from neglect to express it.

Panel 4 : And even when you changed yourself to be above them, or to be among them. You were prey. A target.

Panel 5 : I still remember how sad I was. I remember every course of rage in my veins

Panel 6 : Eventually desperation took over. To fit in was to be same. To be same was to be free of the heckling.

Panel 7 : But all along you and I were always going to be different from the crowd.

Panel 8 : I'm sorry it took this long. But everything is okay now. I've learnt to love our differences from the crowd.

Panel 9 : I did this. I did this all for you. But you'll never know that. You'll never know why it was wrong to be treated that way. You'll never know peace.

Panel 10 : I was just a kid. / I'm just a kid.

#tw : child neglect mention #< ?? appropriate tw? I... dont know #also just wanna preface that this isn't about death the kid is just younger roo :)#This set of renders was lowkey detrimental to my mental health 💀💀 I cried like 10 times and had to take 2 or 3 breaks to-#-keep myself together #i cried so hard i gave myself a migraine and triggered my heart palps alksdjh #inner child stuff always gets me #Roo #Roo*#blender render #render #simblr #ts4 #ts4 simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 render

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mauselet · 6 months

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The Influencer - And All Is Not Fine

This story is for @ask-the-rag-dolly's blog, specifically The Influencer AU. Honestly, loving the blog so much. Huge thanks to Mod Bee for creating it and if you haven't already, go check out her blog.

Big thanks to WanderingDragon and Foolscap Hamato for helping with the fic.

Yes, the story is named after Entropy by Awkward Marina lyrics. Also, the anon/s that speak in orange and red, you got a reference in there cause it felt fitting.

Well, I really hope you enjoy this story!

Story includes: Ragatha X Pomni (but can be taken as platonically), angst, hurt/comfort

TW body horror, possessive behavior, possession, anxiety/panic attack, haphephobia/fear of being touched, questioning sanity, self-neglect

It's been a few weeks since Pomni found out that there were currently hundreds of voices inside Ragatha's head. Wow, and after all this time it didn't sound any less insane. From what Pomni understood, those voices were a virus that had infected the circus and latched onto Ragatha. They couldn't tell Caine about this because he'd likely kill them and Ragatha refused that. For some reason, she wanted to protect them which seemed even crazier than the whole situation. Some of them were friendly, sure, but others…

They attacked Jax, causing him to glitch out. They taunted Ragatha by plaguing her mind with the worst cases imaginable or calling her names or taking her too literally. They spawned that stupid paper shredder!

Oh, how Pomni hated that thing! The next time she sees one, she’ll personally smash it into pieces.

In short, the voices–all of them–stressed Ragatha out. And who could blame her? Sometimes even your own voice in your head can drive you mad. Pomni was actually impressed that the doll hadn’t reached her breaking point yet with these “anons”, as they called themselves, constantly following her.

Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, they led to Ragatha temporarily losing her arm, but it was also thanks to them that she worked up the courage to speak to Pomni again. The thought of that always brought a smile to the jester’s face.

She was glad she could talk to her. Not only because Ragatha was nice and overall pleasant to be around, but it was also good for the ragdoll; especially now that she avoided the other circus performers to prevent another Jax fiasco or a possible infection.

The redhead’s absence was noticed by the others and to Pomni’s surprise, they were concerned about her. When Pomni first arrived, she was too busy spiraling down her anxiety to see it, but these trapped souls were friends. They cared about one another, even if it’d be in their own strange ways. So Pomni decided to reassure them all with daily reports on how Ragatha was doing.

And that was usually the extent of her interactions with them. Until Caine’s adventures forced her to stick around the whole day. Sometimes she was able to avoid them, however, there were times when she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately for her, adventures like these stacked over the course of the last few days, making it basically impossible for Pomni to check on Ragatha.

By the third or fourth day, Pomni was getting anxious. Throughout the adventure, her fingers were constantly convulsing while stuck in an unnatural position, her eyes turned into scribbles and her thoughts were as far away from the game as possible.

Ragatha must’ve been lonely. It’s been days since she’s interacted with anyone. Well…since she’s interacted with someone who meant no harm to her. Hopefully, she was alright…

Pomni suddenly jerked and snapped out of her thoughts as a gloved hand waved in front of her eyes. Her head shot up and she saw Kinger, Zooble and Gangle who announced to her that they found a way to replace her in today’s adventure and that she could go see Ragatha. If she had to be honest, she didn’t even know what the adventure was, but if she really wasn’t needed there…

She gave the three of them a quick smile and dashed to Ragatha’s room as fast as her short legs could carry her. As soon as she arrived and caught her breath, she rang the bell, waiting and…

Waiting.

Pomni felt a pit in her stomach. No, no, no. She shook her head. Everything’s fine, it’s just taking a bit. She rang again.

“R-Ragatha? It’s me, Pomni. A-are you in there?”

But she was still left waiting.

“Ragatha!” she raised her voice, yet still no response.

Oh God, three days… Three whole days with nothing but those voices. That must’ve been a nightmare for the doll and Pomni left her dealing with that alone. She left her again…

“I’m coming in!” she announced and reached for the doorknob. Her body froze as she held it, overwhelmed by worried thoughts, but also by a sense of déjà vu. She chuckled darkly at the memory of desperately wanting to know what was behind a door she shouldn’t go through and then opened.

A wave of relief washed over Pomni as she wasn’t instantly met with a glitching blob with a thousand glowing eyeballs. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room and her heart skipped a beat. Ragatha was there, sitting on her bed, sewing what appeared to be a suit. She was so focused on her work; maybe that's why she didn't register the bell. Pomni can't actually remember if she'd ever seen her this focused, but she looked surprisingly calm and, the jester had to admit, quite pretty.

“Um…Ragatha?” the short woman started, walking over, “I'm sorry for barging in, I was just worried when you didn't answer.” But the ragdoll didn't respond; it was as if she didn’t even notice that Pomni was in the room talking to her.

Was she ignoring her? Was she mad? Did she…hate her? All of those thoughts sounded really ridiculous considering that this was Ragatha we were talking about. She doesn’t even allow herself to hate Jax, someone who’s caused more than enough harm to her, so there is no way she’d ever hate Pomni. Right…? Yet all those thoughts, as unrealistic as they might’ve seemed, felt like real possibilities to Pomni.

Somehow despite Jax putting her worst fear in her room, voices constantly screaming at her and hurting her and Caine forcing her into some of the most dangerous scenarios, not being there for her seemed like the biggest crime of them all.

Well, there was only one way to fix it.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” Pomni let out, her steps slowing down, “I tried to check on you, but Caine’s adventures-”

“Oh, it’s alright, dear,” hearing that gentle voice, Pomni stopped. It was nice hearing her again, but something felt off. Sure, Ragatha occasionally used pet names like hun or sweetheart or even dear–oh geez, Pomni felt her cheeks heating up just thinking about it—that wasn’t the issue. She sounded more nonchalant than reassuring.

That didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t mad and that brought a smile to Pomni’s face. However, that didn’t last long as the doll finally raised her head.

Pomni’s face turned paler than usual if it was even possible, the pinwheel eyes shrunk, making them nearly invisible and her smile vanished as if it was never there.

Oh %$!#... Oh %$!#! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This wasn’t… This couldn’t have been real!

She wasn’t just staring at a black void with two colorful eyes where Ragatha’s button was supposed to be. She wasn’t just witnessing her friend slowly abstracting in front of her! She wasn’t… She wasn’t…

This wasn’t real!

It… It was just one of the digital hallucinations that Caine mentioned. Yeah! That’s it! That’s…That’s what it…was…

But those eyes, that void, they were still there, no matter how much Pomni convinced herself about the opposite.

Caine. She had to go get Caine! As Ragatha said once, maybe there was still time to fix this.

“Stay here!” Pomni blurted out, “I’ll be right back!” She quickly turned around and ran to the door. She’s going to come back this time. This time she won’t let Ragatha suffer.

She reached for the doorknob, but before she could grab it, arms wrapped around her and she was pulled back. One of the arms held her abdomen while the other was around her neck, not too tight yet still uncomfortable.

Feeling the fabric arms against her skin made her dizzy and itchy. She could sense every single pixel touching her, causing goosebumps to spread over her body.

“Where are you going, dear~?” she heard a whisper in her ear. It was Ragatha’s gentle, calming voice- No. It sounded different and…wrong. The voice was demanding and rough.

Pomni’s breath hitched. Was really something wrong with Ragatha? Or was her mind just messing with her? Well, the physical contact didn’t exactly help her think clearly as her body was plagued with this disgusting sensation.

“Don’t leave me~” For whatever reason, those words made the black-haired woman sick.

The doll’s embrace tightened. The touch of the fabric felt so venomous and paralyzing. It felt sickening. It felt wrong.

The jester wanted to escape that trap. She needed to escape it, yet no matter how much the voice in her head screamed at her body to move, it wouldn’t budge an inch. She was frozen in such a predicament with nothing but her racing heart, uneven breath, and voice stuck in her throat.

She attempted to take a deep breath, only to leave herself coughing.

“Are you alright, dear?” That voice again. It made shivers run down Pomni’s spine.

She sucked in another breath and let out a very weak and broken “Ragatha”. She repeated this a few times until she made a sensible sentence: “Ragatha… Please, let go…”

“Let go?” the doll wondered innocently, “why would I do that?”

“Please…” the jester mouthed.

“It’s not like I want to hurt you.” The grip tightened even more. “I would never hurt you. I would never-” The taller woman went silent. She felt the pale jester in her arms trembling and her heart dropped.

“Pomni…” Ragatha let out softly and her embrace loosened, “y-you’re shaking…” Rather than talking to Pomni, however, she seemed to have told it to herself. Reminding it to herself as if just physically feeling it wasn't enough to make it sink in.

Even some of the voices were yelling at her to let go while the others objected. Was it the good or bad ones? What even made them good or bad? Were there even any bad voices? Were there even any good voices?

The voices that objected weren’t yelling, but whispering yet they were somehow much louder than the yells.

“Don’t listen to them–” “You can’t let go–” “You can–!” “She’ll find Caine and tell him about us–” “She wouldn’t–” “It’s too great of a risk–!” “If Caine finds out about us, we’ll be–” “What would happen to Rags–?”

“Ragatha, don’t you care about us? Don’t you care about what happens to you?!”

She flinched, instinctively tensing her hold on Pomni. In no way did she help the situation, with the jester’s body convulsing out of control.

“What is it, dolly? Are we too much for you to handle? Are we too loud? Can you even tell the difference between us and your own thoughts? Is there even a difference at this point?”

Oh God, her knees felt weak, her head was spinning, and tears filled her eye. She felt like she was about to collapse at any moment, but there was something forcing her to stand. Something kept her body like this against her will despite her exhaustion.

“Oh, dollface, do you feel the abstraction crawling under your skin? Or well, fabric? Did we do it? Did we f̴i̷n̴a̵l̸l̴y̸ ̶b̷r̸e̶a̵k̷ ̶y̷o̴u̵?̸”

All the voices then started shouting over one another again. Ragatha couldn’t even make out what they were saying as it all blended into an incoherent mess. With so much noise in her head, she wanted to join them. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs; let out all her frustration not just with the voices, but with her whole body. It would be a beautiful relief, but even that was a luxury. Her body wouldn’t let her. They wouldn’t let her.

She’d swear that in the middle of all the noise she heard things that made her want to throw up. She hoped that it was just her imagination and her brain tried to give those noises some meaning, however… That would mean it was her own thoughts and that creeped her out even more. Strangely, some of those words weren’t anything bad, they were just…words. Yet they all sounded so disgusting. So wrong. Every last one of them.

Every last one…

Every last–

“Please…” One voice silenced all of them despite how weak and broken it was. No… No, it was loud and clear. It was…real.

It hit her like a truck. Everything that just happened in the span of a few minutes. How Pomni walked into the room, apologizing. How terrified the jester was when she saw her. How she stopped her when she tried to leave. How she was holding her this whole time despite the pain she was clearly causing Pomni.

Ragatha jumped back, letting go of the jester, allowing her to collapse to her knees. The small woman was sitting there, swinging back and forth, hyperventilating. She reached her hands to her arms as if to brace herself, but she didn’t touch. Instead, she grabbed her hat and pulled, her eyes shut. The bells one would associate with joy and fun now sounded distorted to both of the performers. The bells were… unnerving.

“Oh my gosh…” Ragatha let out as it all sank in. She covered her mouth and a tear ran down her face as she stared down at the black-haired woman. Her heart was breaking at the sight. “Oh my gosh…”

She did this… No, no, no. The voices did. Right…? She…She wasn’t in control, was she?

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, although, she wasn’t sure if Pomni could even hear her, “I-I lost control of them.” She cried more. “I messed up. Ragatha, you idiot… You %$!# idiot! You scared her. You hurt her! Why would I…? I would never-”

She felt tears rolling down her right cheek too, but that wasn’t possible. She wiped the tears with her hand and when she looked at it, her fingertips were covered by dark liquid.

Her heart stopped, realizing what that was. The dark void was leaking. The voices were right…

The bells on Pomni’s head rang again, causing Ragatha to snap out of those thoughts. There was something more important she had to do than pity herself. Her emotions could wait. Her abstraction could wait! She didn’t matter right now. She didn’t matter at all! Pomni did.

Despite her own breakdown, she rushed over to the jester, kneeling in front of her. She was in tears, barely thinking straight, potentially on the verge of abstracting, but Pomni mattered more.

Ragatha reached her hand towards the pale woman but flinched when she realized it wasn’t the brightest idea considering what caused this in the first place. She instead laid her hands on her own knees so Pomni could see them.

“Hey, Pomni?” she spoke up, her voice trembling. That sure was reassuring…

C’mon, Ragatha! Get a hold of yourself! Pomni needs you! Don’t freak her out.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her yarn, brushing it over her right eye to hide it. She curled her hands into fists and calmed her breath before speaking.

“Pomni, hun?” She was doing her best to keep her voice stable this time. “Look at me, please. Hun, look at me.” Pomni cringed, her body still going back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s just me. The real me, I promise,” Ragatha continued, “I just need you to look at me.” The big eyes slowly opened, showing scribbles, and looked up. “That’s it.” Ragatha smiled at her brightly. “Good job, sweetheart. Good job.”

The smaller woman was still trembling, still pulling at her hat, still swinging back and forth, still not controlling her breath.

“Alright, dear-”

Pomni flinched at that, tears streaming down her face as she looked away.

“O-okay! Okay,” Ragatha said in an unintentional panic. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I won't call you that again, I promise. I promise. You’re safe now.”

Still in tears, the jester stopped pulling at her hat, yet the bells kept ringing. Each sob was accompanied by a happy metallic chime as her body jerked. Ragatha had to admit that it made her wails quite adorable and each little jingle seemingly made a voice in her head disappear each time. But she wished more than anything that they'd stop.

“Pomni?” Ragatha knew she had to keep trying. “Hey, Pompom, hun… Can you look at me again?”

The smaller woman didn't seem to listen. She then choked on her sobs as they didn't mix well with her rapid breathing. Seeing this, some of the voices panicked, but Ragatha had to stay calm. She instinctively lifted her hand from her knee, however, thankfully stopped herself from touching Pomni.

“Please?” the ragdoll’s soothing voice asked and Pomni couldn't deny it. The black-haired woman turned to her, scribbles in her bloodshot eyes.

“Good job.” A smile of relief and reassurance formed on Ragatha's face. “Now, honey, you're having another episode, but that's okay. It's okay, I'll help you through it. I’m not going anywhere. We'll get through it together, okay?”

Pomni nodded slowly, choking on her sobs again.

“I need you to breathe with me,” Ragatha told her, “four seconds in, hold and six out. Four, hold, six.” She waited for Pomni to nod again before she took a deep breath that the jester immediately followed, yet struggling. They held their breath, but sniffles broke them. Then they exhaled together.

“Now, let's try again.”

And as Ragatha said, they did. Breathing was much easier for Pomni this time around.

“You're doing great,” the redhead praised her, “are you able to go on your own?” She watched as Pomni nodded and took another deep breath with her eyes shut. “Good, keep going. You’re safe, hun. Focus on me, okay?”

When Pomni opened her eyes again, they were back to their pinwheel look. Ragatha also noticed that she stopped shaking and the swinging slowed down. Her smile widened in relief.

She kept talking to Pomni while the jester calmed her breath. They were like this for a few more minutes until…

“R-Ragatha…?” Pomni finally spoke up and the ragdoll gasped quietly.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Ragatha greeted her, “you feeling any better?”

“A little…” Pomni’s voice was still pretty weak, but she had much more to say. She held her hands together, rubbing her thumb with the other. “But I should be the one asking you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ragatha shook her head. “I just helped you through a panic attack-”

“And I’m forever grateful for that,” the jester blurted out, “but, Ragatha… You’re on the verge of abstracting!” They both flinched at the yell and Ragatha covered the black void on her face despite being hidden behind the hair. “And it’s all because of me.” Pomni shifted her eyes away. “Because I left you when you needed me. Again!”

“Pomni, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“‘Can’t blame yourself?’ You’re the one to talk,” the pale woman scuffed. She then took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No, you have all the right to call me out.”

“Did it happen because of… them?” Pomni glanced at the taller woman, her eyes narrowing at the last word.

“I think so,” Ragatha replied and noticed Pomni inhaling to speak, but she quickly interrupted her, “that’s why you can’t tell Caine.”

“But, Rag-”

“You promised.”

“And you said you wanted this to stop,” Pomni reminded her, raising her voice, “I understand you don’t want them to die, but think about what they’re doing to you. Stress? Mental breakdowns? Abstraction?!” The doll lowered her head in shame. “Rags, you’re suffering and I can’t bear to watch. You care about the people around you and I appreciate that, but for once in this digital life think about yourself first.”

“No need to worry, darling,” Ragatha said calmly, looking up with a bright smile as if the topic was just a casual small talk, “the anons are actually what keeps me from abstracting, otherwise I’d be in the cellar by now.” Pomni cringed at every word due to how cheerfully the doll said them. “We’re also really, really sorry for touching you. We were so afraid of you telling Caine that we had to stop you somehow. Sorry we hurt you.”

Pomni was just staring at her, an unsure expression painted on her face. This all felt wrong and Ragatha’s next words didn’t ease that feeling.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure that I can join in on the adventures again soon.”

No, that wasn’t right. She just said she’s afraid of Caine finding out, why does she suddenly want to take part in his adventures? And that wasn’t the only thing off.

“What happened to staying in your room to prevent infecting people with the virus?” Pomni wondered, “don’t get me wrong, the others would be happy to see you and they’re definitely worried about you. Heck, Zooble, Gangle and Kinger helped me get out of an adventure to check up on you; it’s just…”

“You’ve been spending so much time with me and you’re not influenced,” Ragatha pointed out.

Well, Pomni couldn’t argue with that. There were still many other issues with this seemingly spontaneous idea, but the more she thought about them the less sense her reasoning as to why they were even issues made. It was as if her mind was getting blurrier the more she tried to use her brain. She must’ve been tired from her previous meltdown.

“I guess you have a point.” She let out a sigh and smiled at the woman softly, but then… Did Ragatha have that wide grin on her face before? That didn’t matter right now; she needed some rest.

“Look, I know I haven’t been here in a while, but I should really go into my room and take a nap,” she explained.

“Oh, no worries, d̶e̶a̸r̴,” Ragatha replied, “have a nice sleep.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.” Pomni stood up and headed to the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned back. “And I mean it, try thinking about yourself. It isn’t hard to care about you; me and at least three other people can agree on that.” Her smile widened as she opened the door. “And Ragatha? …I… Thank you for helping me through the attack, I really appreciate it. You’re a great friend.”

She then closed the door and stayed in the room.

She originally planned on finding Caine the moment she was outside. She was well aware that Ragatha didn't want that, however, Pomni was willing to do anything to help her stop hurting. She didn't care if Ragatha hated her for it–she was sure she would–she just wanted her friend to be safe.

But as much as she wanted that, she couldn't bring her body to go through with it. It was as if it didn't obey her.

“Don't leave me,” she remembered the doll's words. No, it wasn't a memory; it felt like someone just whispered in her ear.

That's crazy. It was just her imagination. Nothing else.

“Pomni, please. Don't leave,” Ragatha's voice begged her. It sounded so real. But there was no way Ragatha's whispers could reach her, right?

The more she thought about it, the more her mind was filled with white noise, static. And the longer that went on, the more that noise made sense to her as if it spoke to her.

“I'm scared,” one noise was much louder. Ragatha's voice.

Pomni's not leaving her again.

She let go of the doorknob and turned around to see the ragdoll still sitting on her knees, showing Pomni her back.

“Actually, can I stay here?” the jester asked, “I don't want you to be alone and…I'd also feel more comfortable with some company.”

“Why of course,” the doll replied, the huge grin remaining on her face. She got up and headed over to her bed. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out her bow and used it to tie her hair up in a ponytail.

“You can take a nap in my bed,” she said.

“Oh.” Pomni blushed a little, not only at the offer but also due to the redhead’s sudden hairdo change. Whatever it was, it had some strong influence on Pomni. "Thanks."

Once at her bed, Ragatha picked up the suit she was working on when Pomni first walked in. It was nearly done. It truly was clothing worthy of someone as powerful as her; someone with influence stronger than the ringmaster himself.

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furiousgoldfish · 9 months

Text

I'm going to sit down and try to explain this with patience, to everyone who still thinks calling out narcissistic abuse is 'ableist' or 'dehumanizing to the narcissists', and that abuse is something we're all equally capable of.

I don't think you understand what narcissistic abuse is, or how it differs from the other kinds of abuse. We can agree that all and any abuse is damaging, traumatic and scarring, but narcissistic abuse is so extremely pervasive, hidden, strategic and unbelievable, to the point where I can't honestly tell it's something any regular human would be capable of. And even more than this, the survivors of this particular type of abuse have found it extremely, extremely difficult to figure out they've been abused, even when they've been put through extreme, devastating, and absolutely dehumanizing scenarios. Realizing that your loved one is a narcissist requires your entire world to break down, and every piece of your heart shatters in the realization, and it takes months, even years to accept it.

The only way we can possibly figure it out is to connect the patterns. And patterns of the narcissistic abuse are focused on erasing one's own sense of self, one's perspective and ultimately, complete control over someone's emotions and behaviours. This is often done from early on, the grooming process starts at age zero, your value, worth and usefulness is determined by them, and you cannot wrangle yourself free from it on your own, not without someone confirming to you that you've been held captive, that your free will has been taken a long time ago.

Unfortunately, I have to give some examples, because I don't think it can be explained otherwise. When I was 2 years old, a narcissistic person found it a nuisance to watch over me, and they beat me up every time I disobeyed. I was a toddler. Then they proceeded to convince me that I was a demon, and would burn in hell regardless of what I do for the rest of my life. I've been brainwashed by this person to believe I was not a human being, had no human rights, that it was correct and regular for me to be locked up, beaten, and that it was my fault every single time, even when I did all that was asked of me. This person then had me comfort them after they would beat me, because it was a stressful experience for them. I wasn't allowed to cry. I would be beaten for making a face expression they didn't like. It was random and unexplainable.

Another narcissistic person created a game where they would give me wrong instructions for a task, then torture me when I did exactly as they instructed me to. It got to a point where I would beg them to tell me what to do correctly, and they would respond with a laughing 'you should be old enough to know this' and they would be even happier to beat me up and scream at me for getting it wrong. This person not only threatened to kill me regularly, but often made me believe I was in my last few seconds of life, putting me in position where I believed I was about to die. They forced me to work for them in unsafe conditions, heavy physical jobs, where I was not allowed to say I'm tired, not allowed to cry, and even after I'd do everything, they would still tell me I didn't deserve to eat. I was a child. I didn't think for a second I was being abused. I was already brainwashed to believe that everyone else had it worse, and that I was lucky.

I had no identity besides existing for them, I had no free will except to try and make myself into something they could use, and if I didn't do a good enough job, I'd be ostracized. They loved beating me, screaming at me and making me cry, and then they'd leave me in a room crying without being allowed to make any noise, while they laughed in the room next to me, as a family, loudly so I could hear what a great time they were having. They would treat other children gently in front of me in order to try and make me jealous. They would revise every part of what they did to me if I ever tried to bring it up. I wasn't allowed my own perspective, opinion, or complaint. I wasn't even allowed to remember the abuse correctly. I would be locked in a room and questioned and punished if my opinions weren't to their liking.

I don't believe this is something anyone is capable of doing. I don't believe anyone of us is capable of torturing a kid until the kid begs to be killed. I don't believe most of us are capable of erasing a child's point of view, their reality, their humanity to the point where the child is forced to live a life where they will either comply or be killed, and they will be tortured no matter what. This isn't a regular thing that a person can easily do.

Luckily, us who have been through this, have noticed that there is a specific pattern to their behaviour. That they use almost identical phrases with which their invoke guilt, fear and hopelessness. That they can go frighteningly fast from rage to laughter to acting hurt. That they enforce their will over ours with a specific type of terror that triggers both our survival instincts and our compassion and shame. That we've been groomed by them in an almost identical way - to not believe that we're allowed our own feelings, memories, opinions, point of view, or freedom. That we have learned to exist only to be an extension of them.

We also all noticed that we're all absolutely, beyond terrified of them, and that we don't feel we're allowed to say it, or think it. That we're taught by terror to keep believing that they're good people, that they do none of it on purpose, not even the most extreme, insane, egregious abuse. That they will go to any length, even committing more atrocities, to escape accountability. That they use tactics of darvo, gaslighting, double-bind, planting insecurities, triangulating, future faking, discarding, love bombing, mirroring, smear campaigns, projection, scapegoating, silencing, throwing tantrums, victim playing, like it's in their second nature. That they're genuinely, absolutely terrifying and almost unreal in how far they're capable of going. And most of all, that they are dangerous, and capable of completely turning another human being into their puppet, and never think for a second that it might be wrong. To them, we are nothing more but toys to manipulate, control, and discard. We are disposable. There is no limit to what they can do to us, because to them, we are not alive. They would do to us what normal people wouldn't do to a corpse. And they feel superior for it.

People abused by narcissists from early age are likely to develop the most complex and extreme disorders, complex ptsd and dissociative identity disorder being some of them, because that's what it takes to survive being a child and existing next to a narcissist. This means that small children need to be shattered in pieces in order to please the narcissist. Others that are very common are eating disorders, anxiety, depression, paranoia, avoidant personality disorder, panic disorder, and compulsions to cater to everyone's needs, to the point of our own destruction. This is what they make of us, on purpose, in order for us to be of use to them. And they will forever insist it's their right.

When I'm saying the word 'narcissist', I am not referring to 'anyone diagnosed with npd', I am referring to a person who will do this to a child, and insist on doing it for the rest of the child's life. I am writing it because I don't want children to have to live like this forever. I am not aiming to dehumanize the narcissist, their actions show who they are, I am saying, be careful and aware that this person will dehumanize you. That you are disposable to them. That making you feel good in order for you to like them, is a game to them, and one they're very good at. That playing the victim at you and demanding justice, will easily manipulate you into standing against the victims of abuse and talking down to them for 'dehumanizing their abusers', and being 'ableist to the npd', after being tortured past the point of return by those people.

A lot of us are permanently damaged by what's been done to us. We are not asking for justice. We're not asking for revenge. We are asking to be safe. We're asking for this to stop. We're asking for children not to be left alone with people who are dangerous to this level. We're asking you to understand that a narcissist left alone with a child means a child in danger.

It's common to not be aware just how bad it can go, because we think that most humans know not to torture a child. We believe that nobody would do things to children that narcissists do. If you read the stories of the survivors, you'll find out what actually happens behind closed doors. The themes of torture, dehumanization, sexual abuse, brainwashing, violence, and extreme cruelty are common, even towards toddlers.

I need you to not attack those children when they grow up and say they no longer want to be around narcissists. I need you to understand that they know what they're talking about when they say it's not safe, that they want to be protected. The society already failed to protect them at their most vulnerable, and they had to make it alive by their wits alone. And now you won't even let them speak without attacking them? It's inexcusable.

If you want to know about the narcissists, read what their victims have gone through. Then make a judgment on whether we're allowed to speak, and whether it's worth warning others to hold caution. I've heard and read stories of narcissistic parents sex-trafficking their own child, holding them captive and locked up and convincing them it's right to do this, using brutal punishments to 'train' them into inhumane slave-like behaviour, keeping the children in state so terrified the children wished they were dead. And in all those cases, they still convinced the children to love their parents, and to never blame them for any kind of abuse. Yes, even in the sex-trafficking cases.

Fighting for those children to realize that they didn't deserve that, is the only correct thing to do. Fighting to help them realize they're in danger, and that they deserve safely, it's not only right but extremely necessary, it's what we all should be putting all of our energy into.

Wanting to keep others safe will never be wrong. Wanting to protect those who still have their identity, their sense of self, their undamaged humanity, their free will and their point of view, that's worth fighting for! And above all, those who already lost it all, need to be protected. We cannot allow for already badly wounded people to be dehumanized over and over again. Nobody deserves that.

#narcissistic abuse #tw child abuse #tw child trafficking mention #narcissistic parents #toxic parents #psychological abuse #taking children's identity and self perception #to train them into personal toys and disposable puppets #while neglecting the children to the point where children don't realize they have the right to feelings #or even to exist without the parent's approval #devastating abuse #abuse

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purpleflameb0i · 17 days

Text

A slightly rushed comic about how some of the headmates need a little reminder from time to time.

-O (he/him)

[ID: A five panel, black and white comic featuring LL and O. LL is a bug, and has a circular head, two wide eyes, no mouth, a cloak, and two antennas. O is a human, and has long fluffy hair, rectangular glasses, a mustache, and a sweater. In the first panel, LL is sitting down. She has tears in her eyes, and a thought bubble next to her says, "It's only emotional neglect and abuse." The second panel shows her still sitting, her eyes slightly closed in sadness. The thought bubble says, "The grooming was only two weeks." The third panel shows her with her eyes closed, and O leaning over at her side. He's looking at her. Her thought bubble says "It was only..." The fourth panel shows O with his hand on LL's shoulder, with LL looking startled; her eyes wide open. O has a speech bubble that says, "Hey." The fifth panel is some text reading, "Your trauma was enough." End ID]

#Plural comic #system comic #Pluralgang #Plural #plurality #pro endo #endo safe #endo friendly #Fade's art #emotional abuse tw #Emotional neglect tw #tw grooming mention #tw grooming #emotional abuse mention

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xjulixred45x · 1 month

Note

I NEED a continuation of that satosugu x bully!reader thing you wrote

Okay okay😚 i will do it, i will make this a little long, enjoy it~ and thanks for the Request ❤️

They mean a continuation of this one

Bully! SatoSugu x Bully! Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings:EXPLICIT BULLYING (not towards reader! rather she is the bully along with the boys. Don't do this in real life btw, it's horrible), reader has a bad family situation, reader has SEVERE attitude problems, surprisingly good friends Bully! SatoSugu? Ambiguos if this a Romantic poly relationship or a Platonic one(it's Upon You)strange amount of Fluff towards the end.

JUST TO CLARIFY, BULLYING IS SHIT AND ANYONE WHO DOES IT IS A HORRIBLE PERSON, NO MATTER THE REASON. THE BULLYING DESTROYS PEOPLE, THIS HAS NO INTENTION TO ROMANTICIZE THE IDEA OF BULLYING, BUT TO TAKE REFERENCE TO THE TROPE FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE.

reader was someone... difficult to say the least.

From the first day he set foot in high school the only thing he did was cause some kind of trouble.

The students were afraid of her, her volatile nature made it difficult to know what she was going to do or what was going to provoke her.

teachers even started taking precautions around her to stay safe from her outbursts. which were a little bit of everything, from robberies, insults, physical violence, etc.

without forgetting that the girl's class attendance was irregular and inconsistent. just like your notes.

She hated everyone and it seemed like everyone hated her.

That's why he constantly moved between schools when the previous one had had enough of his antics.

which generated a big discussion at home.

The neighborhood where the reader lived was not very good, but her house was worse.

her mother was long gone, and her father, a poor excuse of a man, didn't do much for a living other than berating her for her own bad behavior.

often ending in physical fights. It was the only way they both had to get out their frustration.

It was the only thing the reader knew.

but sincerely? Not everything was so bad.

She had built a reputation as a badass in every school she went to and scared her, she liked the feeling of finally being in control.

Being feared was fun, no one messes with you. You are at the top.

and at the same time you go unnoticed, since no one has the courage to say something against you (unless they want a beating)

Although it was definitely a bit monotonous at this point, the reader liked the feeling of being someone people were afraid of for once.

although something changed in 2007

That year, a reader was reintegrating into secondary education after a particularly unpleasant expulsion.

and thanks to that, it was somewhat difficult for her to find a school that would admit her this year until they forgot about the drama of the previous one.

and she went to the Jujutsu academy (strange name)

That was where he met them, in a way.

or rather, Gojo and Geto already knew about her beforehand.

It was difficult not to recognize her from the recent drama with the beating she gave to the gang of chimpiras in her old school (schools?)

Gojo was curious, Geto somehow felt threatened.

Gojo wanted to know how hard he could push this new student, to see her tough girl image crumble.

Geto took it more seriously, although he did not consider the reader a serious threat, a full-fledged bully with a reputation would definitely draw the spotlight on her for a while. They shouldn't let her think it was important.

The plan they had made was the standard.

First they would start with small incidents that did not seem malicious, so that she would lower her guard. so she would think it was a safe place.

Then those incidents would increase in quantity and more frequently, also starting to bring certain passive aggressive comments into the mix, but you still can't consider bullying, right?

Things like picking on her while she was distracted, grabbing her things without permission, commenting on her appearance, yes, all of that is wrong, but can you really say it's bullying? Are you really going to take a prank that seriously?

and from there, use everything they had.

stealing whatever she had for lunch, throwing food on her, yelling at her during breaks about how fat and ugly she was...

--use any kind of secret of her against her, throw her things in the trash, all so she would understand his place.

she was beneath them.

but things...did not turn out as they expected.

First of all, reader was much more aggressive than one would expect. every time Gojo tried to get closer it was like she sensed danger and moved away or worse, threw something AT HIM.

Like the time he "accidentally" tried to bump into her and she elbowed him in the ribs and told him to "watch where you were going, you idiot."

or when Geto tried to give her a little "constructive criticism" about her disheveled and reading appearance she just looked at him, with cold, dead eyes, and said "you're emo, you don't get a say in how I look" that was WOW.

Phase one failed completely. reader definitely did not act as they had expected, she definitely had experience.

which led to them having a surprisingly brilliant idea.

What if instead of trying to tear her down, they used her as another member of the team?

Sure, they were used to just working with the two of them, but Reader had a clear advantage in several areas where they couldn't reach (reputation, physical fights, etc.).

It was worth trying.

I imagine that at first they went directly to the reader to tell her the terms of this deal, how they would help each other stay on top and thus not bother her, in exchange she could do whatever she wanted.

simple, concise and effective. Reader I accept the terms.

and the following weeks would be HELL for the students and teachers of the Jujutsu institution.

Geto was considerably the smartest of the group, he was the one who put together the heavy tactics and the one who selected the best victims, calculating and deceitful.

He was a relatively good student too, at least when Gojo and the reader forgot their homework (almost always) they could copy his (it's not like he could do anything after all).

Gojo was surprisingly less evil but much more immature and childish. He was like a man child.

He had intelligence, yes, but it was not conventional intelligence, he had great creativity when it came to being cruel. to give you insults. to make you feel like shit.

Apart from the fact that he came from a big family with a lot of money, all of the group's actions were swept under the rug.

and then was reader.

What could you say she became the muscle of the trio.

reader, with her history of fights and bad reputation, could make everyone so afraid to talk to anyone about their problems that it was ridiculous.

It was like a silent warning, say one word and I will beat you to a pulp.

Surprisingly, they adapted very well to Reader, although it was strange at first, since they were "business partners" but Reader was very quiet and reserved when she was not beating up.

Gojo was the most determined to change this, he was part of the group now after all! At least you have to learn to have a little fun.

Geto was more concerned upon learning of the reader's long history of previous schools, at first because it could mean she could leave at any moment, but upon closer inspection, it's more that she doesn't want to lose this new addition to the group.

The three of them skip classes from time to time, or force the reader to attend more so they don't expel her. How do you expect them to make life miserable for the first years without her? Woman, put your will!

They both even share food with her or steal bentos so that she eats more when she realizes that there really is absolutely nothing coming during class time, she has to stay nourished to take the beating! They won't let her kick ass until she eats >:(

If there is any group work that they do or do have to do, it is most likely that they will do it at Satoru's house, it is the largest and with materials, and it is also fun for him to see his two friends with astonished faces when they see his house every damn time.

although definitely when they both have a more serious problem, they usually go to where the reader lives, since her father is not there most of the time.

Suguru usually goes to the trouble of throwing away the old sake and beer bottles, along with the old bills scattered throughout the house.

Satoru limits himself to sniffing around whatever is within his reach, but at least he has the option of not opening what is closed. But when he sees the family photos or how dirty everything is along with the broken things.

It makes them have a better understanding of Because she is a reader like that, she allows herself to be somewhat vulnerable with them by showing them how she lives.

and surprisingly they appreciate it.

And it's not like it remains reader only receiving a certain type of comfort.

Reader will be a shitty brawler, but if you mess with her Squad, you're Dead.

not only in the school environment, but in life in general.

When Suguru goes through a depressive episode, she and Satoru combine neurons to try to make him feel better, whether with company, games, food, etc. Same goes when Satoru is feeling shitty.

I think that in general, the reader is the "heart" of the group. Having a complicated life, she knows better about emotions and how she would have wanted to be comforted, in a certain way.

(only applicable to this fictional case, this may vary. Don't take it seriously)

For the same reason, when she is especially down, it usually means a day of rest for everyone, a break from EVERYTHING.

from family, from school, from responsibilities, from the whole world.

Just go play at some arcade, win silly prizes and discuss who will take it home.

play basketball and have Satoru kick their butts because neither Suguru nor the reader invites him.

go on a motorcycle and race who is faster.

eat ice cream and sleep on the street.

and miss school the next day, they missed yesterday after all, what does one more day matter?

On these types of days they can forget what kind of people they are, the things they do, what has happened to them.

Yes, in short they are all three DEPLORABLE and horrible beings, but at least they are deplorable and horrible all together.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Sorry if i take long in the works😅 i'm trying to keep publishing AND have a more healthy schetule with My other Activitys, so if i Slow down, it's bc i need it.

Thanks for the Request ❤️

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