#but fuck! looking back cps should have been called

[springrls]

I hate to vent post, but this is intense so I don’t feel comfortable telling my friends directly or through a discord vent channel.

I asked my mom for $60 to buy groceries for 2 weeks. She asked “when does your ebt start?” Not going to unpack all of that right now, that’s at least a year in therapy, just wow.

I don’t live in a cheap city for food. I spent $100 3 weeks ago for 2 weeks of food. I’ve been covertly shamed for that since. I told discord friends I spend $100 for 2 weeks of food. They ask if I’m starving myself. She is, lol.

A month ago I told her I feel bad asking for money to buy food. That I feel greedy. She said no I’ll always help you. Then here we are…

Alls this to say. I just realized she thinks of me as less than. She treats me that way. $60 to eat for two weeks? She wants me to love her. Maybe if she treated me like I was human I would .

#horrible #I tried to talk to my bf about it yesterday and how good insecure I grew up because she manufactured scarcity #but he got really triggered because we had the money to eat well and regularly #he grew up extremely poor #so I get it #but fuck! looking back cps should have been called #both my parents weren’t fit to take care of me

[graciegoeskrazy]

Sharper (rewrite) - Chapter 1 - i feel the earth move

Warnings: Language, mention of rape, mentions of kidnaping, mentions of sexual assault, Mentions of CPS, social workers, bars, New York City (lol), mentions of sex workers, mentions of drugs and drinking

Word Count: ~3,000

A/N: READ THE WARNINGS. Its me hi I’m the fucking writer thats always missing its me. Okay we have a series yay! I know this seems really fucking crazy but I’ve had this idea for a really long time and I’m really excited for y’all to read. So far i have the first chapter (duh) and last chapter done along with some bits in between and I’m really excited for y’all too read. Okay thats all ill say now okay i love u byeeeee

The streets of New York City were never friendly. Especially to 16 year olds like you. Rain poured and mixed into the dirty snow that had fallen earlier that day, creating a rotten and thick atmosphere surrounding the city. You thought about other families on Christmas Eve. Kids getting ready for bed, awaiting the arrival of Santa and the presents he’ll bring. Families walking home from church, admiring the lights that covered the city. You should be experiencing things like that - joy, cheer, happiness. However, it all seemed to be the exact opposite.

After your mom died you were immediately thrown at CPS who sent you straight into foster care. You had no family except your mom. Your grandparents might have been alive but you had no fucking clue because they turned their backs on your mom and you the second they found out she was pregnant. With no support and no money, your broke single money turned to being a sex worker. And even though there were friends she made along the way at work and they treated you like you were their niece, all of them knew that living with them in the midst of their line of work was no place for a kid. They cared too much to let you be around that, and you understood. So, foster care it was.

Your foster parents honestly didn’t give a shit, so you offered a deal to them - give you a share of the money they get monthly from the state, and you will be out of their hair and will never ask for anything from them. Not surprisingly at all, they said yes. When your social worker found out, she didn’t care, she just wanted a cut of your money. For awhile, you would stay in and out of shelters throughout the city, eventually leaving after a little while to avoid the risk of anyone getting suspicious and calling CPS. When that didn’t work, you would bounce between the couches of your friends, slowly but surely giving up hope of ever finding a permanent home. Even with your cut from your foster parents and money at your shitty job at Starbucks your social worker set you up with, it still definitely wasn’t enough to pay rent of anything. But it was enough to pay for your own food, your own clothes, and a ticket from point a to point b. So that was how you lived. For 10 whole months. And that’s what its looked like for the past week. Couch hopping, working, still going to fucking school, and all the while not having a single moment to grieve the loss of your mom.

You were on the way to a bar to have your annual meeting with your social worker. You had an informal meeting with your social worker at least every other week. Even though they were brief, they were still a constant pain in your ass. You wanted life to keep moving. Move away from the pain and heartache of your mom’s death, and all the other pain and suffering that came along with it, but these meetings always seemed to drag you back under. It always felt like a constant reminder of what you went through and how you got here.

You immediately spotted her. You sat down across from her at a table. She continued writing down whatever it was she was doing as you walked in. She acknowledged your presence, but never looked up once.

“You’re late.” She said.

“Yeah. I know. I couldn’t get a cab. It’s fucking Christmas Eve.” You said as you sat.

She finally met your gaze, “What have I said about cursing?”

You just shrugged, “Last time I checked I don’t get in trouble for language.”

Jenny sighed again, “It’s still not classy.”

“Meeting at a bar at nearly midnight with your 16 year old client isn’t classy either.”

“It's a restaurant too.” She said, matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes and Jenny let out a smirk, knowing she had gotten under your skin already. She straightened up at an attempt to reset. “How’s life been treating you Mazie?”

“Pretty Shitily.”

Jenny continued to write in her files. “I can imagine. Where were you tonight?”

You took a seat, “Out with a friend from work. Caroline.”

“A friend from work at Starbucks?”

You looked anywhere but her, already tired of her fake niceties “Yeah.”

“How’s the Job you like it?”

You signed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Working hard? Putting in the hours?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny finally looked up. “Hmm. That’s really interesting because I checked in on the Starbucks you’re working at and they said you got fired 2 weeks ago.”

You were caught.

For a moment you thought about keeping up with the lie. But you very quickly came to the conclusion that it would only make things worse. “Okay listen, I can explain.”

“Strike one.” She said, as she went back to write in her files, probable making note of your job status.

“Listen to me, My boss, Samuel...he was being a real perv-“

“To you or others?”

You paused and shrugged, eyes never leaving her. “What do you think?”

Jenny looked down. She wouldn’t wish what you had been through on anybody, But she wasn’t gonna let you off the hook. Job or no job, someone would find out sooner or later and it would end up getting herself in trouble

“it’s apart of your agreement.”

“You taking a cut from my foster parents isn't a part of the agreement?!”

“Quiet down, will you? Look, I'm trying to help you. I know it’s been rough since you lost your Mom, and all i’m trying to do is help you maintain a life. A life your mom would’ve wanted.”

“My mom wouldn’t want me in a fucking foster system or working shifts at starbucks for less than minimum wage.”

“Look, I don’t really give a shit. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“That’s a first-”

“Cut it out.” She said Sharply. “Can we carry on with the questions?”

You nodded.

Jenny continued, “Last time you did drugs?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve told you, since I went into the system.”

“So a couple months, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“So let me ask you this. If I get a drug test from my car, it’s gonna come back negative, right? Because you haven’t done anything tonight?”

“Yeah.” You said hesitantly.

“Are you sure about that? Because im gonna be really fucking pissed if I have to go all the way to my car and back to get a drug test just to prove that you’ve been lying to me.”

You knew that she knew. There was no getting out of it. “Ok so I may have done a little tonight. But it wasn’t a lot! It was barely any!”

“Strike 2.”

“C’mon man!”

“Do you want me to bring you in right now? Is that what you want? Cause I’d be happy to hand you over to another couple who don’t give a single shit about you.”

“You’re a fucking monster.”

“No. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you’re pretty fucking bad at it.” A new voice spoke. Your eyes caught sight of a man with dark hair and a long black trench coat. You looked slightly familiar, but Jenny continued to speak before you had the chance to fully question his familiarity.

“Excuse me?” She said,

“I’m just saying, If there’s a reason she’s acting like this then maybe you’re doing something wrong.”

Confusion made itself apparent on your face as you looked at the two as the continued to speak.

“Sir, can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He said with a smile before it morphed into a blank stare. “No.” he said.

He must be drunk as hell.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “Look, let me pay you to walk away.

Jenny’s unimpressed expression never changed as she spoke. “You must be drunk.”

The man laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Knew it.

——-

Jenny and the man continued to talk quietly, coming up with some sort of price. You were absolutely speechless. Maybe I can make a run for it now? That would definitely lead to trouble once Jenny inevitably found you again. What about when she leaves? When it’s just me and that dude? That could work. Throughout all the questions filling up your brain, the most frequent one was equally simple and terrifying… What the hell did he want with me?

Before you could fully think about that one, Jenny came back, seemingly packing up her files and folders Not saying a word to you. So, you spoke up.

“You really gonna let him do this?!”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine. He’ll probably let you walk away, your record will stay spotless, and I won't have to deal with your bullshit-”

“Are you fucking insane?! Look at him he’s probably gonna assault me or rape me or something sketchy as hell.!”

“Not my problem.”

“Yes, it’s your problem. That's your fucking job!”

She turned to give you one last cold glare. “Well…nothing you haven't dealt with before.”

You were speechless. All you wanted to do was punch her across the face until she was out cold, but nothing would come out.

She made her way out the door but turned out to give you one last glare. “Happy Holidays motherfucker.” she said.

You were slouched in your seat, arms crossed, eyes looking down in disbelief. From the second you got a good look at his guy, you knew he was bad news. You had yet to learn what would happen or where you would end up next. You snapped out of your thoughts when a certain voice appeared.

“Hi.” He said, sounding almost chipper.

You didn’t respond, just stared at him, arms still crossed. He took another sip of his drink before continuing. “What’s your name?”

“...Mazie.” You said hesitantly.

He sucked in a breath. You weren't sure what that meant, but you had no time to think about it before he continued talking.

“How old are you Mazie?”

You hesitated. What kind of creepy ass shit was he into?

“16.” You said sharply. You couldn’t let down your guard for one second. You were tough and not to be messed with, and this guy needed to know that.

You noticed how he hesitated again. He took one last sip of his drink before standing up off the stool and making his way towards you,but still giving you some space.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

“Not really, no.” You quickly said.

He hummed. “May I?” he said, gesturing to the seat across from you in the booth you were still sitting in.

“It's a free country isn't it?” You said. He took that as a yes.

“I’m Max.” He reached out his hand as an offering. You pondered for a moment, then shook his hand.

“What do you want with me, Max?”

He let out a slight dry chuckle. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Mazie. If that's what your thinking”

“Soooo…you just gonna let me go? Pay a random woman 7.000 cash to let a random 16-year-old free out of what…the goodness of your heart?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Come with me.”

He led you outside. Waiting for you both was a sleek, black, sports car you presumed was Max’s. He opened the door for you and gestured for you to get in.

“Fuck no.” You spat.

“I told you I’m not gonna hurt you-”

“And why should I believe you?”

He was about to open his mouth but stopped himself.

“You can’t really I guess.”

That caught you off guard. For some reason it made you trust him a tiny bit more. For whatever reason, you were definitely interested in whatever skeam he had planned.

He reached into the car and pulled out a wad of cash. “Here,” he said, throwing it to you.

You caught it and took a look. $1,000 dollars cash was sitting in the palm of your hand. You tried to remain natural and chill. “What’s this for?” you asked.

“That’s your cut.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking and driving.”

“And you shouldn’t be alone on the streets of New York.”

“I shouldn’t be talking to strangers ethier. Let alone getting in the car with them.”

“Let’s not be strangers then, huh?”

The car ride was quiet. He put on some sort of Christmas music on low volume as he drove. The city was alive and bright. People and families crowding the streets, once again making you think of your family and what you used to have. Those thoughts came to a halt as he pulled into a large parking garage next to what you assumed to be Max’s apartment building. A doorman created the two of you as he led you to the elevator. The both of you still hadn’t said a word since the bar.

He opened the door and motioned for you to go inside.

“You think I'm dumb or something? I’m not going in there.”

He rolled his eyes before looking at you. “This entire apartment complex is filled head to toe with multiple alarm systems, 4 Security guards only a couple floors down, one of which you met and knows your face, and constantly servailed cameras in every corner.”

You just stared at him, trying to think of something to say. He beat you to it.

“And if you wanted to leave, I would let you leave.”

You nodded, and walked in.

His apartment was smaller than you expected, but you were mainly surprised about how clean it was.

“Cool Place.” You said.

He took his jacket off and put his keys down.

“You can sleep on the couch, or leave if you want. No drugs. No coming into my room.”

He slammed the door, not giving you another look. “Coolio.”

This is gonna be interesting.

——-

The clanging of pots and pans startled you. You turned to see max preparing some kind of breakfast.

“Morning.” He said.

You didn’t reply, just stood still. Taking in and remembering all of the events that took place the night before. He continued.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

Out of everything he could’ve said, you didn’t expect those word to come out of her mouth. “What’s my favorite movie?”

He nodded.

“Interstellar.” You said without taking your eyes off him, trying to keep up the tough exterior.

“Really? Why?”

“I like space and I have daddy issues.” You said bluntly. He made a mental note to check in on that later. He continued, “I think it's a classic.”

“You like that one?” You said surprised as you took a sip of the coffee he gave you.

“Yeah. It's always been a favorite of mine.”

“Damn, I can’t believe you’ve actually seen that film.”

“I haven’t.” He said, giving you a glare.

“What?”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“To trick you.”

“Okay?” You were thoroughly confused.

Max got up. “That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do.”

You sat in silence as he grabbed a stack of newspapers and but the on the coffee table in front of you. “Read those. Front to back.”

You scoffed and picked up the papers. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Where’s that money I gave you?”

“In my jacket.”

He grabbed it and turned to you. From now on, every time you curse I get 100 back.”

“Fuck that, that’s my money!”

He pulled it away before you could grab it back from him.

“Another 100 gone. 800 left.” He put the remaining money back on the table and you immediately put it into your pants pocket.

“Where are you going?” You said.

“Out. I’ll be back later. Read those or leave.”

He slammed the door.

You just stood there.

How did the fuck did I get here?

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x daughter!reader #max x teen!reader #sharper #Sebastian San x teen!reader #sebastian stan x teen!daughter!reader #sebastian stan x child!reader

[shishikusas]

what’s ur thoughts on the recent happenings with masa? im kinda torn on it myself tbh

hello anon, i'm glad u asked bc i felt like it would be awkward to bring up unprompted

i have a lot of complicated feelings, but most of all i am really concerned for masa's well-being, bc he posted some kind of disturbing vent art before completely vanishing and its been over a week and there has been no activity at all from his account and idk. i just have a bad feeling he has hurt himself..

this isn't me DEFENDING him though, i feel like i should make that very clear if anyone's been on twitter, you've probably seen the thread that was made basically listing all the things masa's done that are bad and i agree with some parts, but others i really don't get

for example: masa's drawn weird stuff involving kids! nothing that could be classified as CP, but still weird nonetheless, and i don't like it at all! this is including adult patch, which i wish i could forget the existence of bc i legit never looked at the lyrics until very recently. it's also important to mention that he hasn't drawn anything like that (to my knowledge) since 2013... almost 10 years ago. so i don't think he's about that anymore, but it's still something that definitely happened

there's also many people parroting the idea that masa doxxed a minor, which is FALSE. he never did anything of the sort. what DID happen was masa brought attention to a person illegally streaming the spider and the kitsune-like lion, and tried to ask him to take it down to no avail. people then sent him personal information on the guy (via DMs) and he essentially was going to use it to take legal action. it may seem harsh, but this person's reupload had almost a million plays on spotify and was actively profiting off of a song that a) masa owns and b) masa wants gone from the internet more than any song he's ever made. eventually, masa apologized on twitter, saying that his fans were never supposed to see this and that it wasn't supposed to go down this way. he deleted all the tweets relating to the spotify guy too.

theres a bunch of other stuff i could get into but it would make this post WAY TOO LONG!! so i'm not unless someone asks abt something specific

one last thing: the reactions i've seen from some 'fans' after his meltdown (idk what else to call it) are fucking disgusting. i've seen ppl say that he's overreacting, that its just bait, or just actively making fun of him for it without a shred of empathy. he very clearly has something going on mentally and we have no idea what his personal life is like, so it's just cruel to act like that. people like that have no conscience and i don't respect them at all

more than anything, i believe in giving people second chances and if/when masa comes back, i am willing to continue being a fan as long as he doesn't pretend like nothing happened. still, i'm really concerned that he won't come back :((

#masa works design #ask #long post #yeah

[nothanksehh]

In the End Chapter 2- Now

Notes:

This is a slow-burn, eventual smut romance with angst. There are themes of child loss and husband loss (loss of life not written), grief and suffering, self-harm thoughts (thought about, not acted upon), and other themes that could be triggering. If anything mentioned above is something you don't want to read please skip this series. Chapter Warnings: loss of life mentioned, self-harm mentioned

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Cp. 3

You want to know what is annoying?

Death is not nearly as peaceful as I would have fucking hoped.

There was no blissful void. Just a fucking headache that wouldn't go away and the most annoying crackling sound.

Why did it even matter anyway? 

I must have made some sort of noise, though. Because something was coming closer to me. 

"Miss, are you awake?" a male voice asked. 

My eyes shot open faster than I could have anticipated. My eyes locked onto the male who spoke, the leather of his wings looked familiar somehow. 

"You probably scared the shit out of her, why don't you back up a bit?" said a woman. 

My head was spinning as I took in the room, sitting up as he backed away from the bed I was on. The room was large. Only two people were inside with me. Tons of medical flasks on the shelves. 

I summoned my voice as curiosity got the best of me.

"Where am I?" 

It might as well have been a croak from a frog with how hoarse my voice was. It also might as well have been a siren's call for help with the way a glass of water appeared before me in a flash. I downed the glass without even blinking. 

"You might want to take it easy. You have been out for a while." the woman spoke again. Her voice was soft but firm. Sure of herself and her surroundings. Was this a healer, then? "You are in the Night Court in our healing ward. I am Feyre, the High Lady of these lands."

Fae? High fae? Me? In their healing ward?

I must have spoken out loud because the expression on her face softened. 

"Do you know that I was once a human? I lived just on the border of the human lands, too." She took a small break before speaking again, gathering her words. "Please do not fear us, we just want to help heal you from those who have hurt you."

It was honestly unbecoming how loud the snort I let out was at her words. The male seemed to shift anxiously at the sound, Feyre only tilted her head to one side in silent question.

"Hard to take that in considering the last time I heard those words the Queens were opening the floodgates to Hybern's assholes and letting them murder my fucking family."

The room stayed silent for a while. My rage seemed to be the only thing that I could hear. Could feel it burning through my veins almost as if there was actual fire fueling it. I took several deep breaths to calm myself before I hurt someone. 

The male slowly approached the side of my bed. Was this the High Lord of the Court then? I didn't know much about the courts here. The only familiarity of these lands was the brutality of their people if you could even call them that after what they had done.

"Who are you, then? Mr. Silent and Broody?" It didn't register in my brain that I should hold my tongue. Nothing matters anyway.

"You may call me Azriel. I am Spymaster of the Night Court. I am also no threat to you."

Azriel. Spymaster. 

As if they had been waiting for the introduction, shadows seemed the breathe behind him. 

"And those?" I made a gesture to the shadows, "What are they called?"

His lips turned up in a half-smile. 

"They have no individual name. My power is that of a shadowsinger. They will also not hurt you."

"So they hurt others?"

A grim shift of his chin was my only answer. 

Fucking great. 

"And you?" the High Lady spoke again, "What is your name?"

"My name is Piper. Piper...P-Piper Kelrie." 

My husband's family name was the hardest to get out. Thinking of my husband hurt... 

"Could you tell us what happened, Piper?" Azriel asked.

"Well, to be perfectly blunt with you, Azriel, the King of Hybern's band of murdering cock-wads stomped through my village as my husband, two daughters, and myself were attempting to get away. They caught us. They slaughtered the ones that meant the most to me in the whole fucking world. And they had almost gotten to the part where they were going to keep me for a while when a giant bat came and I passed out." 

The room was silent for a long time after I spoke. Too quiet. So lacking in sound that I could almost hear the flames roaring inside me again, so I broke it.

"Would you like to fill in the rest for me? You said I have been out for a while. How long? Has Hybern conquered these lands yet? Is that prick still alive so that I can murder him myself?" 

My questions prattled off like lightning, no real breaks between sentences. 

And again the silence stretched. I rolled my shoulders in frustration. Azriel shot a look at Feyre, not something that I could decipher. She nodded and stepped forward. 

"Piper, you have been out for a year. Azriel was the one who found you that day. He killed the males that were attempting to take you and brought you back here. You... you needed extra care after what happened and our healer said she would give you something to help. It seemed to affect you in a particular way, hence sleeping for so long. The King of Hybern did attempt to take Prythian, and he was stopped. He no longer lives."

My rage stalled. This was too much. If the war is over, then who am I going to make pay? If every last fuck that killed them is gone, where does that leave me?

"Piper, please sit down," I hadn't even realized that I was standing. "There is more."

"MORE? What fucking more could there be?!"

Azriel was the one who decided to grace me with his questions next.

"Do you know who your parents are, Piper?" 

Not what I was expecting in the least. It threw me off guard so much that I did sit back down.

"No, I was told they passed when I was a few months old. My mother's friend raised me until she passed. What does that have to do with anything?"

"The tonic that was given to you, you can think of it almost like a reset of your body. There was so much healing that needed to be done it cleaned the slate, so to speak," Azriel continued, "When your slate was cleaned, it revealed that you had been glamoured."

A glamour? 

"So I am ugly now, then? It wiped away some pretty face or something and now I am beastly?" 

This is all one big fucking joke. Apparently, the biggest fucking joke of my life. 

Feyre's next words hit worse than the blow to the head that knocked me out. 

"Piper, you are fae."

Notes:

Hello! I am so excited to be writing my first ACOTAR fic. I am not new to the fanfic writing community but this will be my first on AO3. I am excited to finally get this brain thought down somewhere. Please enjoy! Also: I do have a busy life so I don't know how often I will upload but I will do my best to be regular.

#acotar smut #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc

[peachy-panic]

Sweet Sixteen

Jaime’s first night at Miss Sherry’s group home. Part of Do No Harm.  Pre-WRU. 

(To save you the background research, Miss Sherry’s is where Jaime ends up spending the last 2 years of his life in the foster system).

WARNINGS: Implied parental death, foster system, semi-sorta-minor whump, past child abuse, food insecurity

Miss Sherry’s house has an “open kitchen policy.” That's what she told him when he showed up on her doorstep eleven hours ago, a trash bag full of clothes slung over his shoulder and a nameless caseworker at his side.

It’s bullshit, mostly likely. It always is. The rundown of rules they give in front of CPS is always vastly different from the reality of the days, weeks, or months that follow. Mrs. Maxwell told Jaime he would have his own room, then shoved two more twin mattresses in the second the caseworker left. The Welfords told him they’d treat him like one of their own, then locked him in his bedroom every night. Mr. Anderson promised he would never lay a hand on him in anger, then…

Well, it’s not worth thinking about now. He’s in a new house, which means new obstacles to navigate, new rules to learn, new traps to avoid. Dwelling on the past will only make him lose his focus on the present, which he is quickly brought back to by a loud rumble in his stomach. The third one in as many minutes.

Jaime is so fucking hungry. He knew—he knew—he should have eaten more at dinner, but his stomach was wound into knots like it always is on the first night in a new place, and he was afraid that he would make himself sick if he forced it down. Now, of course, his body has no such reservations as his stomach tries to claw itself inside out.

In theory, it should be fine for Jaime to walk downstairs and get something to eat. That’s the rule on paper. In practice, he is chained to his bed by the memory of a sharp hand to his cheek and the click of a padlock on a pantry door. Words like greedy and thief and ungrateful echo in his mind, when Jaime has never tried to be any of those things. He was always just hungry. Always just trying to take the edge off the ache enough to sleep.

Open kitchen policy. It has to be a trap, if not an outright lie.

But… he did see a couple of the other boys grab food from the pantry earlier. He had been sitting in the living room, pretending to watch whatever was playing on the small TV while he carefully observed his surroundings. Miss Sherry was in the next room going through the mail at the time, and she didn’t even look up as they tore past with granola bars and a bag of chips in hand, calling out something vague about running in the house.

Maybe the rule is real. Unlikely, but possible. And maybe… maybe even if it isn’t, it won’t matter that much if he gets caught.

His stomach growls again. He has to try.

The twin bed creaks under him as he sits up. It’s old, he can tell, but not uncomfortable. Certainly not by comparison, not that the competition is very steep.

He glances across the room to the bed on the opposite side, making sure the sound hadn’t woken his roommate. The younger boy—Tyler, he thinks—is out like a light, his dark braids spilling over the pillow.

Five years in and out of strange houses has taught him how to find the quietest routes around the floorboards. He steps with precise, silent footwork across the bedroom, pressing down on the doorknob as he pulls it open to mute the squeal of hinges. The stairs are a little more of a challenge. His heartbeat knocks against his ribcage as he squeezes the railing the whole way down, palms slick with sweat.

When he finally makes it to the bottom, he lets out a long breath through his nose, but his relief is cut short when he walks through the kitchen entryway at the same time Miss Sherry comes in through the connecting garage door. Jaime freezes in place, his hand clutching at the door frame. The woman seems to startle as well, though she recovers more quickly than Jaime does, kicking the door shut behind her. Cradled awkwardly in her arms is one of those heavy-duty kitchen mixers. An older model, he realizes with a dull ache in his chest. Just like the one his mother had.

“You’re up late,” she comments.

Jaime flinches, averting his eyes to the kitchen tile between his mix-matched socks. He knows this play well enough. Apologize, don’t talk back, retreat. Hope that maybe she is just the yelling type and not the hitting type. “I’m sorry,” he says, though even he can hear the resentment underneath. “I just… wanted some water.”

“Hm.” She places the heavy mixer onto the countertop with a thud. “Leftovers are in the fridge,” she says without missing a beat. “In the brown butter tub. The one on the bottom shelf, not the top. That’s actually butter.”

“I—” Jaime’s mouth opens, then closes. Before he can think of anything intelligent to say, she speaks over him, going to work unwinding the cord to the mixer and plugging it in.

“Leave them in there much longer and Roderick will inhale them. That’s a promise, not a threat.”

He stiffens, vaguely remembering the face of the older boy he had met earlier. The one with a tattoo on his bicep and at least four inches on Jaime. “I don’t want to take anyone’s food.”

“It’s just as much yours as it is anybody else’s.” She pauses, giving him a quick once-over. He tries not to shrink into himself under the scrutiny. “Maybe even more so, considering you never ate your share to begin with.”

“It wasn’t bad or anything,” he tries lamely, but she shoots him an easy smile.

“It’s hard to mess up spaghetti and meatballs. Most of it comes from a jar, and anyway, my feelings aren't hurt that easily.” When Jaime hesitates a few more seconds, hovering awkwardly in the doorway, she turns to him, looking at him fully for the first time since he came down. “I don’t know what kind of situation you’re coming from, Jaime,” she says with a firmness that wasn’t in her voice a minute ago, “but my boys don’t go hungry. Not under my roof. Not ever.”

The authority in her tone is so sincere, so earned, that for a moment all he can do is stare at her, wide-eyed. “Do I make myself clear on that?”

Jaime hesitates for only a moment, and then manages a nod. “Yes, ma’am,” he says quietly.

“None of that, either.” She waves him off, immediately going back to her work, the intensity of her stare suddenly evaporating. “I feel old enough chasing you boys around here all day. Now go on. Bowls are in the cabinet next to the microwave.”

This time, Jaime doesn’t wait to be told again.

“Electricity works just fine,” she says over her shoulder when he makes an attempt to eat it cold. He blinks up at her and she sighs, taking a step back to open the microwave door. He obediently places his bowl inside.

While the ancient-looking appliance hums in the background, Jaime turns his attention to what the woman is doing. In the time that he was preoccupied with his leftovers, she had assembled a pile of ingredients in front of her: sugar, flour, eggs, oil. A few different sized measuring cups line the countertop.

“What are you making?” he asks, leaning back against the sink. Mrs. Welford would have snapped at him to mind his business. Mr. Anderson might have shoved him out of the kitchen. Miss Sherry just cracks an egg into the bowl and answers him.

“A cake.”

Jaime furrows his brow, shooting a look at the clock on the oven. “Right now?”

She shrugs, not looking up from her work. “I meant to do it earlier, but time got away from me. And it needs time to cool before I can frost it, so, you know. It’s now or never.” At Jaime’s silence, she peeks up at him with a knowing smile. “I’m under a pretty tight deadline here.”

“Deadline,” he echoes, not quite a question.

She follows his gaze to the clock. “Seventeen minutes, to be exact,” she says. “Don’t think I’m quite going to make it, but in my defense, this was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow morning. You kinda blew it, kid.”

The microwave beeps, signaling that his food is done, but for a moment, Jaime barely registers the sound. He stands stone-still against the edge of the counter, something tight and hot turning over in his chest. He looks at her, and she looks back, the tiny smile at the corner of her mouth growing a little wider at his expression.

In seventeen minutes, Jaime turns sixteen years old.

It’s a birthday cake.

For him.  

“You going to get that?” she asks, pulling him out of his momentary trance.

He jumps, looking at the microwave. “I… yeah. Sorry.”

There’s a moment of uncertainty once he retrieves his food. He shifts on his feet, trying to figure out the next logical move, but Miss Sherry saves him before he has to ask.

“You’re more than welcome to take that into the living room if you want,” she says. “But if you want to keep me company, the bar is all yours.” Without pausing her work, she kicks out one of the stools along the center island. Jaime stares at it blankly.

Then, after a long moment of deliberation that Miss Sherry pretends not to notice, he lowers himself into the barstool and takes a bite of warm food. The relief is immediate.

For the next thirty minutes, long after his bowl is empty, he watches her capable hands working to make the first birthday cake he’s had since he was eleven years old. The “thank you” is stuck somewhere just below the lump in his throat, but he thinks—hopes—maybe she hears it anyway.

***

TAG LIST: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @melancholy-in-the-morning @also-finder-of-rings @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy

#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #child abuse cw #this is a fully unedited chaos post #will read for typos and nonsensical bullshit later

[fakeboitherottengirl]

CPS is fucking useless and I hate them. There is a pair of twins in our 2 year old class who come in absolutely battered, like so bad that even if it is just from rough housing with their brothers (one is 4 and the other is 12) they should be removed for neglect, but there have been bruises in the shape of adult handprints on their neck/chin area and what looked like belt welts on one of the babie's backs that his mom claimed was poison ivy. Ive brought it up to my boss multiple times, she even helped me call CPS, but nothing ever came of it. Now both the little boys have been having absolute meltdown reactions to being disrobed in any way (diaper changing, or putting on their costumes for the Halloween parade or changing clothing if there is a spill at lunch time) and Im not sure if Im just being paranoid because Im a survivor but the way they freak out when you undress them, they genuinely respond like they believe you are about to hurt them. I told my boss about this and we made another call. Again, fucking nothing, cops who came to take statements suggested dismissively that they might be autistic and have sensory issues about being changed and left. They also self harm severely, scratching themselves and bashing their heads on the tile part of the floor. I feel so helpless I just want to kidnap them and raise them somewhere safe I know in my heart that somebody is hurting these babies and Ive done everything I could do as a mandated reporter and I just feel so lost

#child abuse mention

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // finders keepers.

a gift doesn’t need to be an extravagant thing.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: typical war discussions / discussions of wounds

SUMMARY: there aren’t many quiet days on The Island, but even in spite of the carnage, Daisy is given a reason to smile.

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @monalisastwin , @brassknucklespeirs

Two days of tentative quiet were too good to be true. Liebgott’s wound is enough of a testament to that fact.

“Fucking Christ, ease up on me will ya?” he moans melodramatically, as Daisy cleans his bloodied neck. She narrows her eyes and presses a little harder, just to prove her point, and he gives a half glare.

“I don’t know what it is with you boys and prancing around with dirty, grimy bandages, but if you want to get syphilis and die — by all means.” She lectures, and Liebgott lets out another prideful huff.

“What, you gonna paddle me for it like my ma would?”

“Do you want me to? Quit giving me ideas.” He continues to mutter angrily, and she can pick up bits and pieces of ‘damn Kraut boys’ and other expletives. She doesn’t know much about what happened at the crossroads — but she was shaken awake by Gray, told that they needed her at Battalion Aid. Only a couple minutes after she got there, Alley had been brought in full of holes. Help stabilize him, call in for further transport, then hours later get called up to Battalion CP to check eleven German POWs for wounds.

She’d caught Liebgott trying to slip out on her own way out, face grimy, neck bloody, and she all but wrangled him into a chair to let her change his dressings, at the very least.

And now he’s glaring and muttering and she’s only half-listening because he’ll thank her for this later, and it’s not like any of this anger is directed at her anyway.

Sulfa powder on the neck to ensure it doesn’t get infected, and then she’s wrapping it precariously. He always ties his bandages too loose when he does it himself — something she’s noticed about the scrappy cabby. The door to CP opens and she looks away from her work, expecting it to be Winters or Martin or maybe someone from Regiment. Against her better judgment, her chest warms at the sight — and her lip quirks into a small smile.

Speirs walks in, looking around expectantly, hair askew and littered in grime. His gaze settles on her, and he makes his way forward.

“Expectin’ a visit from Killer, Dais?” Liebgott mutters teasingly, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Lieutenant takes impossibly quick strides — she would’ve punched him before Speirs could catch her in the act.

“Have either one of you seen Captain Nixon?” He asks, looking between them. Daisy looks at Liebgott, who looks back at Speirs.

“Should be near the dike with Captain Winters, sir. Probably on his way back now.”

Speirs nods at that, biting his lip for a moment before digging in his pocket, pulling something out.

“Clarke, catch.”

He tosses it and she scrambles to grab it before it hits the floor. Glancing down at the item, or rather, items, in her palms, she immediately recognizes the bandages and syrettes. However with a second glance, she immediately recognizes that they aren’t the same bandages passed out through the Army. German bandages. The syrettes, too, have subtle differences in the packaging.

Daisy looks up at him, mildly surprised.

“Thanks… Lieutenant Speirs,” Her fingers curl around the materials almost instinctively — as if someone were going to snatch it from her otherwise. He nods once again, then turns on his heel to leave and likely catch Nixon on his way back. Daisy watches him go, until the door shuts, and it’s only then that she hears Liebgott’s snickering, snapping her gaze to him with narrowed eyes. He clears his throat, then proceeds to bat his eyelashes at her.

“Thanks Lieutenant Speirs,” he mocks, and now that she can swat him without repercussions, she does. He laughs at that unabashedly. “Was wonderin’ why you looked like a kicked goddamn puppy for the past few days. Now I get it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” Daisy counters, she isn’t sure if she’s saying it for Liebgott or herself.

“Yeah right,” he rises to his feet, shooting her a wink with the click of his tongue. “Then next time you see me I better be getting the goddamn puppy-dog face too or I’m gonna be real pissed.”

“There is no puppy-dog face. This is just my face.” But if Liebgott is anything — it’s stubborn, so he isn’t going to believe her anyway. He just smirks wider, putting his helmet back on as he turns to leave her in Battalion CP, and if a million little arguments and counterpoints die on her tongue as he does that, she’ll just have to deal with it. Just like she’s trying to figure out a way to, maybe, get a firmer grip on her facial expressions. Not because Liebgott had a point, but just for her own benefit.

It isn’t the last time Speirs comes to see her. Or rather, is looking for someone else, and finds her instead.

The next time, she and Ginny are talking in 2nd Battalion's Aid Station. Rita’s healing quick and will likely be back by the end of the week, which is reassuring. They’re talking about the potential of being pulled off the line, when the door opens. She sees Lieutenant Ward first, her inky black hair pinned from her face. Speirs leans in the doorway. They both have grim expressions on their faces. Daisy looks at him, and something in his gaze softens. Or maybe she’s just tired. Yeah, that’s it. She’ll chalk it up to being tired again.

“Allen took a hit last night.” Ward states plainly. Ginny frowns deeply, rubbing at her mouth. She nods, and Daisy can hear her let out a sigh as she retains her composure. Speirs clears his throat, breaks his gaze from her to look at Ginny.

“Prisoner snatch last night. One of our guys got hit crossing back over the Rhine. She went to help him into the bushes, took a hit to the hip. It was dark. They probably didn’t see her armband.” He responds, then takes his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. Brant looks between him and Ward with a raised brow, before he clears his throat again. “I was there, ma’am. Figured you’d wanna hear it from someone who saw it.” She nods slowly, then shifts her attention fully to Ward as they begin to discuss. Daisy keeps her eyes trained on Speirs, who turns on his heel to step out.

She catches his eye again as he fishes for something in his pocket, leaves it on top of one of the medical chests, then leaves fully, likely to wait for Ward by whatever jeep brought them here. She stares at the trunk, then on the door.

“You got that, Clarke?”

Daisy snaps her gaze back to the two women, who are staring at her expectantly. She blinks a couple times, trying to get her bearings.

“I’m— I’m sorry, could you uh… run that by me one more time?” Brant furrows her brows, looking to the door before back to Daisy.

“When McCarney comes back you’ll be moved down the line to help the ladies at Dog Company CP. Won’t be for forever, just until we can get Allen back or a fit-enough replacement. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” she replies without hesitation. The two women rise to their feet.

“I’m going to head up to Easy CP, and I assume you’ll be headed back down the line, Ward?” Ward nods quietly, glances to the side and gives Daisy a half-smile. They exchange brief goodbyes, and the two women make their way out. It’s only after that, that Daisy rises to her feet, making her way over to the trunk. In spite of less-than-amazing news — she can’t help but smile a bit at the sight before her.

More German bandages (where is he getting them from?), a pair of scissors, but beneath that, a chocolate bar that isn’t a bitter, blocky D-Ration. More comically, she can immediately recognize his script where he’s slipped a piece of paper on top, “changing” the label to the candy store she liked back home. She picks it up and unwraps it, breaking a piece of it off and popping it into her mouth. Even with limited supplies, it’s so much better than a D-Ration.

He’s likely already long gone, so she’ll have to thank him for it later.

The third time, she’s acquainting herself with the Aid Station near Dog’s 2nd OP. Ward brought her, told her that she’d be right back — leaving Daisy alone. She’s wandering around her post when she hears footsteps.

Turning her head, she recognizes him instantly. Despite her head screaming at her not to, she greets him with a warm smile.

“Y’know, for Battalion staff, I never see you with Battalion. Which CO are you visiting now?” Daisy teases, leaning against an empty cot. He doesn’t try to mask his own amusement at her question, rolling his eyes and not entertaining it with a response. He just tosses another chocolate bar her way, that she catches, making her way towards him as she opens it. “No bandages this time?”

“Got lost in the mail, you know how it is,” is his quick reply.

“Uh huh, mailman got lost crossing the Rhine?” Maybe she gets a bit of amusement whenever that mildly surprised expression overtakes his face, even if it’s a minor shift. He doesn’t deny it. “Ward filled me in on the night patrols. And on your solo excursions too.” She isn’t mad — even if she was, this is his job and she can’t exactly protest that fact. But if Daisy masks her very real worry with a joke, then that’s no one’s business but hers.

“And what’d she say about that?”

“Oh, I’ve already sold all of your intel to the French for a scenic Parisian apartment, if you’re worried about your secrets being spilled,” Speirs chuckles, a sharp exhale through the nose. “…nothing much. Just that you come and you go, bring back helmets or weapons. The bandages have been handy. And the syrettes too, so… thanks Ron.” 

He stands a bit away from her, his shoulders squared, hands resting on his hips as he nods. She recognizes how his eyes drift to the door — pick an objective and execute. Before he can leave, she crosses the small threshold to stand in front of him. He looks at her with furrowed brows. She half-smiles as she unwraps the bar in its entirety. “Here, take half.”

He opens his mouth, likely to deny it. “It’s rude not to accept a gift.”

He shuts his mouth promptly and takes the half. She hums in content, biting into the corner of hers.

“And here I’d thought you’d start scolding me like you did with Liebgott,” The dryness to his voice isn’t lost on her as he remarks on it, a joke nonetheless, but there’s something else laced in the words that she can’t identify. Or maybe she doesn’t want to. She isn’t quite sure about that yet, either.

“Yeah well, you’re not Liebgott. It’s different.” She replies simply. He quirks a brow, questioningly.

“How so?” Pressing further, rather than slipping away like he has the past two times. She doesn’t know why. Daisy presses her lips into a thin line, looking down at his hands. Dirty. A couple broken nails. Unscarred, unbloodied.

“Liebgott shoots at the feet of POWs because he thinks it’s funny. He also argues with me on everything, and makes me play games he knows I’m no good at,” And she doesn’t mind it. Because Liebgott’s funny and he’s quick-tongued and reminds her of being piggy-backed home by her big brother after she sprained her ankle. And when he calls her name, she knows that he’ll be the first to draw her away from her harsher thoughts. “Liebgott’s like Jimmy and you…”

 

She’s not an idiot. At least, she hopes she isn’t. She worries about him, but never in the same way that she worries about Joe or James. Joe’s like a brother. You’re like a friend. That’s what she should say. The right answer. But it feels heavy on her tongue — refusing to come out. She’s hyper aware of the proximity between them now, close enough to pick out some of the finer details; the way his jacket sleeves are just slightly too long, covering a bit of his palm, how his hands hold onto his half with a familiar tightness, like it’s precious to him. Without even touching, she knows they’re rough.

'Like a friend', it’s what she should say. Because then, she doesn’t betray her own word, and things remain nice and neat and somewhat resolved. But Daisy doesn’t like lying, at least, not more than she has to. She still isn’t even sure if what she told him last time was a complete lie or not. You bring me chocolate that must’ve been hard to get. You sit with me when you don’t have to. You make me worry. You make me cry. 

“Dais?”

Daisy takes in a sharp breath, prying her gaze away from his hands and looking up at him. His stare is… intense, but not in the way he glowered down that Captain weeks ago. Not the look that “could kill a man in a second” as the men so often whisper about. His hazel eyes flit across her face, and it’s like he’s examining every detail. Her cheeks heat up under his scrutinizing stare, but she doesn’t falter. When was the last time they’d been alone like this?

In France, the voice in the back of her head reminds her, when you lied.

She wants to shrink until she disappears.

“Ro—”

“Oh! Daisy! There you a—” Daisy snaps her head to the voice. Carolyn looks at her with wide eyes, then to the man next to her, then back to her. “Ah… sorry Lieutenant Speirs I didn’t… I didn’t realize you were here. I can come back later.”

“No. No. You’re fine, Foster,” Daisy refutes. Somehow, she manages to pry herself away from him, even though she can still feel his burning stare. She slips the remaining half of chocolate, still in its wrapper, into her pants pocket, hoping the woman didn’t notice it. “The Lieutenant was feeling lightheaded so he came up here. Thought he was gonna collapse. Turns out a D-Ration and some water leaves him feeling right as rain.” She glances at Speirs one final time. There’s a brief flash of offense on his face, likely at the silliness of her excuse, aptly masked, as he gives a gruff nod of the head.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Clarke. Lieutenant Foster.” He makes a swift exit and Carolyn watches him go, before turning to look at Daisy with a scrunched nose and raised brow. She waves her hand dismissively.

“Right then. It’s me and you on duty tomorrow night. Just wanted to see how you were, play catch-up,” She smiles, giving Daisy a half-hearted shrug. Daisy smiles in spite of her pounding heart and flushed cheeks, moving to sit on an empty cot, and patting the space beside her.

Carolyn takes it, all-too-eager — and they play catch-up.

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #hbo war #band of brothers fic #band of brothers #ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs fic #ronald speirs x oc #Ron Speirs x oc #hbo war fic #hey do u like this shiny thing I got you #yes dear

[linesofmagic]

Catching up

Words: 1,617 Hawk and Lark have a chat. For @ofviolentdeath

His hands shake slightly as he reaches for the door handle, walking into the mostly empty diner. Hawk sits in one of the booths, looking older than he did the last time Lark ever saw him, but not nearly as old as he should look. Not even older than Lark looks.

His brother, at least, seems just as nervous as he feels. There’s some comfort in that. It took him ages to come around to the idea of this reunion. But now that it’s here, he almost wishes he hadn’t agreed to it.

He settles into the booth across from Hawk, who gives him a tight smile.

—

This… isn’t a conversation Hawk ever expected to have. He missed Lark, worried about him, hoped for the best. But he always thought if he went anywhere near his family, he’d be killed instantly. And that probably would have been true before Gwen. Part of him is worried it will still be an issue, that Lark will never fully be able to move on. He wants his brother to meet his family, to get to know Bells and the kids. He won’t bring him anywhere near them until he knows it’s safe.

(The idea that Bells can ever be in danger from a hunter is almost laughable. Hawk isn’t laughing. He won’t risk it.)

“You’re um… young.”

Hawk snorts. It’s just such a dumb observation. A terrible ice-breaker. And yet, it’s a mirror of his own first thought. “You’ve grown up.”

“Time normally does that.”

“It’s definitely supposed to.”

The waiter comes and takes their orders. Hawk gets a burger. Lark sticks with just coffee. Hawk shoots him a look over that.

“You’re not going to feel great if you don’t eat food.” And it should feel more like a sibling fussing over a sibling, but Hawk feels an awful lot like a parent. This feels like a conversation had with any of the kids, not with any of the siblings he has now. He doesn’t know how to be a brother to Lark.

Lark sighs and adds some fries to the order.

Not ideal, but Hawk decides not to push it. The waiter leaves them alone again. The kid isn’t any more human than Hawk, so he knows there won’t be any awkward questions to deal with later. He’d almost suggested doing this at a Waffle House. They’re actually pretty empty at the right time of day and part of him thought it would be funny. The other part of him thought he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t bring Bells with him to Waffle House for any reason. So he’d picked this local joint instead, knowing the staff is supernatural and knowing it’s about as safe an option as he has.

He’s also sure Bells is very, very nearby. Just in case. He knows she worries, even without an immediate threat around. He doesn’t think Lark is a threat, but neither of them know for sure. He won’t judge her for however many boundaries she has to cross here to feel better.

—

Lark doesn’t know how to do this anymore than Hawk does. He didn’t get more siblings or a new family after his brother ‘died.’ In fact, his family got smaller. He lost Hawk and then their aunt and it was just him and their parents. Not ideal. Having two kids means the focus isn’t entirely on one, the pressure isn’t entirely on one.

Losing one of those kids means the pressure ratchets up.

“I missed you,” Lark says, and it sounds awkward, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any way to have this conversation without things being super awkward.

“I missed you, too. I… wanted to come back. When I was old enough to realize that was an option. I thought about it constantly.”

“Mom and dad would have killed you.”

“Or made you do it.”

Hawk’s right, but somehow that horror hasn’t crossed his mind before. His stomach knots at the thought of it. Hunting families are so fucked up. CPS would be called on all of them a million times over if they ever stayed in one place long enough for someone to witness their bullshit.

“I, uh, heard you married a Delaney.”

The softest of smiles slips on his lips and that tells Lark more than anything he can say will. “Yeah. Bells. She’s… I’m not gonna lie, I thought she was going to murder me when we first met. You’re not supposed to murder your partner in an arranged marriage situation, but I thought she would find a way to make it happen.” He shrugs. “But she didn’t. And she’s… kind of amazing? She’s kinder than she gives herself credit for – don’t you dare fucking tell anyone that, though – and she’s great with the kids and she’s funny and smart and, gods, I just… I love her a lot, y’know? Even though she’s also absolutely, undeniably terrifying. I love that, too.”

“Do you feel safe with her?”

“Yes.”

There’s no pause, no hesitation. Lark wonders at that. Leaving one family that did awful, awful things only to find another that does the same. Then again, it’s probably different when the awful things aren’t being done to you.

—

Hawk doesn’t know how to phrase the question he wants to ask, because he’s gathered they’re not together but he doesn’t really know why. He’s not sure he has a right to know. Obviously the shifter thing is throwing him off, but if Lark is sitting here, having this conversation, and willing to listen to Hawk, then the shifter thing can’t be the only problem.

He can’t figure out how to phrase it tactfully, so he goes with, “So Gwen?” and watches Lark’s reaction.

A smile ghosts over his lips, gone almost before Hawk even sees it. “She’s uh… probably the nicest, kindest person I’ve ever met in my life.”

And it sounds like a compliment. And it is a compliment. But Hawk also knows what that means when you grew up as a hunter. “I don’t think she’s as fragile as you’re worried she is.”

“Physically? No, absolutely not. She’s probably stronger than me.”

“She’s definitely stronger than you.”

“But it’s–”

“Kindness isn’t weakness.”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, I get that kindness isn’t bad. I’m not arguing that. But it’s still dangerous. She knew what I was the whole time we were friends. She walked into that shitshow of a situation with eyes wide open, because she thought I needed help more than she needed safety. How many people worse than me are going to exploit that?”

“Probably a lot less than you’d guess. Her family isn’t going to let her get hurt.”

“She already did get hurt and it was a lot more my fault than I’m okay with.”

“Then how do you make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Hawk lets out a low growl and sees Lark flinch at the response, but he can’t make himself care. “Lark. It is that simple. You can’t change the past. But you can impact the future. When something bad happens to someone you care about, your first priority is to make sure they’re okay and your second priority is to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“One of my kids was kidnapped and tortured once. We didn’t give his kidnappers the chance to do it again and we made it very clear that you shouldn’t mess with our family.” He knows Bells still shoulders too much of the guilt from that and he can never fix that for her, but he doesn’t blame her for their actions. He doesn’t blame Fiero for being soft and kind, either. “No one has ever bothered our kids again. Even the kind ones.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” There isn’t a way to talk about that without it being horrifying. It was awful and it’s not something that can be sugar coated. “You do you, dude, but if your goal is to protect her? It’s a lot easier to do when you’re close together than it is to do from a distance.”

“I just… need more time, I guess.”

“She’s not going to wait for you forever.” That might be a bluff. He doesn’t know Gwen well enough to say it one way or the other. But Lark seems like he needs a good kick in the pants on this one.

“Yeah, I know. And she shouldn’t. But I can’t rush it, y’know? It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”

Hawk raises his brows in response to that. As if he doesn’t know exactly what that’s like?

“...right. Sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”

“Sure was. But you’re figuring it out.”

“Can I, uh, hear about your kids? I’m sure you’re not ready to introduce me and I’m not all that ready to meet them either, but I’d like to know more about them if you’re okay with it.”

“...you’re lucky that’s an effective subject change.” But Hawk can talk about how much he loves his family any time. He can say something good about all of his kids, Kai and Marissa included. So he does. He launches into stories of raising the kids, of what they’re like. He… definitely does gloss over just how murderous some of them are. This is already a lot for Lark. He’ll ease him into those details. But he’s open about a lot of the rest of it.

He wants his brother to meet his family one day, and he wants Lark to want that for himself. They’re not there yet, but hopefully they will be one day.

#ofviolentdeath #hawk;lark;drabble #lark;hawk;drabble #drabble;; #i wrote this. in november #and def thought i posted it #so whoops to that

[traumatizeddfox]

Tw for sa, sui and death mentions. It's also a long, long rant. Don't feel the need to respond or read it all. I know it's a lot.

Everything is so overwhelming. I keep hallucinating and seeing all these people and hearing all these voices. Some tell me I'm a bad person and i believe them and some are telling me to kill myself. I really feel like a bad person. A lot of the voices are trying to convince me that nothing i remember is real and that I'm making everything up. I'm not in a good state at all. I don't know who else to tell..

The only friend i was able to see passed away not too long ago and i can't get over it. Everyone keeps trying to pressure me into stop thinking about her and to get over her but it's not something you can rush. I don't know why but i feel so gross for missing her. It's probably because everyone is trying to gulilt me into feeling bad for being angry over her death. I don't care if I'm lashing out at people because they're trying to force things on me. If they don't want me to say mean things to them they should fuck off or deal with it. I'm tired of feeling responsible for everyone else's emotions and reactions.

And get this.. i was like the only person she hung out with and i didn't get told anything about her funeral and they already had it and that just makes me so fucking pissed. And I'm so angry at myself for not just ignoring all the stupid people at "church" like i said i was going to. I don't want to even look at them since they didn't even tell me anything about when it was going to be, nothing. I gave them my number for a fucking reason.

Then my mom thought it was a good idea to go to the place where they found her body. My stomach dropped when she did because like literally what the fuck, mom?

Then my grandma went and called me disgusting for having sexual trauma which she was a part of. She's done some pretty sick things and has the nerve to call me disgusting.. like once she made my brother and i sit in piss for two whole days while my sis was in the hospital because we weren't allowed to use the bathroom. And once when I was in the bathroom, taking a bath in the downstairs bathtub, she just came in and took off her clothes. She did that during arguments too, so i stopped arguing with her because i still have that disgusting image engraved in my mind. She also hit me but it was never as hard as my parents did, but it still hurt.

Her saying that though really just made me lose it. All these emotions are so confusing. That was what topped it off. i feel like I'm back in school again except it's worse because there's more shit going on that I have to deal with.

Instead of being bullied and having to deal with cps and being groomed and the vice principal putting in tardies and making my parents angry because i had to stay after school to make up for it or else I'd be expelled for excessive tardies i have to deal with my parents threatening to kick me out for every little thing and trying to find a fucking job to no avail, fucking 16 applications and nobody fucking calls back after the interview, and i have to protect my siblings from being hit, and i have to do all this work or my money will be stolen and I'm not allowed to eat until i break my back for seemingly no reason, and my stupid father smashing all the things in my room and i can't stand the sound of him hitting mom or yelling at her. All she thinks about is how she feels. It's all that's mattered to her, except when it's convenient otherwise. She's always ranting on and on about all the horrible things dad does.

I hate how she always has to lie about things . Like when dad bruised her all up and the police showed up..

Ugh and i can't get my fucking door replaced no matter how much i rant on about it. There's a big ass fucking hole in it and it's been there for years and i can't change in there or do anything without someone peeping. It's better than when we didn't have a bathroom door for months on end. I don't think they would have replaced it at all if cps wasn't involved

Everything just fucking sucks. I don't want to burden anyone with all this shit, but i can't take it anymore. I don't want to have to be a mom to my siblings. I don't want to have to lift things and get out of breathe and almost pass out. I don't want to live but i don't want my siblings to have things harder or as hard as i did. I don't want any of this.

I'm just so tired of everything. My mind is literally breaking apart again. There's too much. Everything is too much and yet i still have to keep it together for my siblings. I want them to feel comfortable coming to me for things they need and i feel I'd mess that up if i let out all my rage and let myself break down. I'd look like dad to them. Dad is so scary when he's mad, and he's mad a lot. I still cower in fear near him.

I just wish everything was the way i fantasized about so many times...

i am so sorry angel :(

first thing i will say is grieve your friend how you want to, there is no time limit!! i’m so sorry your mother and grandma have no compassion for you :( i’m so sorry i wish i could help you ;-;

#parasites under flesh

[st4rrg1rll]

05.21.22

sorry no pics of my cute ass outfit but it’s okay lol, i got so many compliments today it was super sweet i love women!!

ummm today was good. i woke up at 8:30 and got dressed and stuff right away and then katie and i went to dunkin for breakfast! and my iced coffee was too sweet. then we went to the farmer’s market and that was super cute and fun! it was such a beautiful day!! and there were so many dogs and beautiful women! and it was right on the river so you could hear the waterfall the whole time, it was fantastic! we walked around to all the stands before going back to buy things, i bought bread and sheep cheeses and mustard and garlic honey which is sooo tasty. i really want to go visit the bee farm (for lack of a better term. it’s midnight okay) that it came from!

after the farmers market we went home to chill out for a little. we tried all the stuff we bought and it was so yummy. the ac broke last night so we just chilled in katie’s room bc she has a portable ac unit going in here. we watched the secret world of arrietty and it was super cute! i almost fell asleep tho lol.

after that it was about 3:30, so we went w aunt maire to the food truck festival that was happening. it was cute but super hot and sunny out. first we had shaved ice and i got watermelon and blue raspberry flavoring. then we shared a stuffed soft pretzel (chicken bacon ranch cheese i think it was, it was amazinggg), and then i had a little brisket sandwich, some french fries, and a coke, appropriate bc we were at coca cola stadium. though the only water they were selling was dasani, yuck tap water. then katie got some cookie dough and we got back in the car to go home.

while we drove home i finally told aunt maire about mary and what she did to me growing up, and we had something like a heart to heart. it was strange to hear her say she was actively trying to get custody of me and alex and looking for any reason to call CPS. the reality of the situation was worse than she imagined and she felt bad about not trying harder, but if CPS had ever been involved in my life, that would have fucked my dad over even more than he already was screwing himself over. but it was nice to get it off my chest and to know how much my family hated her and was worried for us. it was hard for me to talk about, and i struggled to go into detail, but i’m glad i got it off my chest like i said. she deserved to know more than anyone, i think she cared the most. her and my mom were the closest after all.

i cried but it was cathartic. when we got home the atmosphere was light again and i was trying to deal with langston getting locked out and possibly needing to go home tonight but thankfully the key dude showed up and let him in. in case i had to leave tonight i went to see grandma! which was the first time i’d seen her in a long time, i should probably try to get up here on my own without katie more often. it was good to catch up. she’s getting knee surgery again soon. she’s getting old, i don’t want to forget to cherish her, or forget to make her feel as loved as she did for me. i love my grandma.

but yeah, after seeing grandma, we just came back home and have been kind of just chilling on our phones since then. obv i did not need to go back to the city tonight. i’m going to try to go tomorrow before the storm hits. tomorrow we might go to breakfast and then to the creamery for ice cream! that will be fun!

i’m so glad i came up here this weekend. i really needed it!!

#journal #05.21.22

[dagbert-endless]

Before Charlie could think of anything to say the bookseller gave him a brief wave and then closed her door. He was alone in the shadowy street with something that had been exchanged for a baby.

Right, I left off after. that.

If they had looked behind them, they might have seen that a weasely red-haired boy badly disguised as an old man, was hiding in doorways and then creeping up on them.

Asaaaaa

His mother had bought him a sapphire blue cape, which she made him try on as soon as the spaghetti was finished. The cape reached almost to Charlie's knees. It had slits at the sides for his arms and a soft hood that hung down the back.

Also gonna be noting every description of these capes because I can never remember what they look like.

There was absolutely no sign that a party was about to take place. Benjamin's parents worked every day of the week and Saturdays as well. 

"It looks really exciting," said Benjamin, shaking the box. "Come on, let's go into the living room." No sign of a party here either.

It was getting dark but there was still no sign of Benjamin's parents. Benjamin seemed more resigned than upset. "I'll make my own cake," he said. And he did.

At half past eight, Benjamin's parents still hadn't come home, so Charlie decided to take his friend back for one of Maisie's hot meals. There was only one egg and a pint of milk left in Benjamin's fridge.

Holy shit they even completely ignored his fucking birthday. I know that Paton gives them a stern talking to but they might also need a stern visit from CPS. Was Ben a fucking accident or something

Outside the kitchen door, Charlie whispered, "Don't tell anyone about the bag, and especially not the case." "Why not?" asked Benjamin. "Because it was given to me and I feel sort of responsible," said Charlie. "I think we should keep it safe until we know more about it."

Charlie :( he is, what, ten? Eleven? He shouldn't feel responsible for Tolly Twelve Bells just because Julia dumped it on him.

A mysterious gleam had entered Paton's dark eyes.

Paton was very tall and very dark, and in his long black coat he did look rather sinister.

Paton descriptions. Very dark, huh? We need more dark skinned Paton art.

Miss Ingledew came after them to bolt and lock the door, but as Charlie and his uncle stepped into the street, Paton suddenly asked, "May I call again, Miss Ingledew?" "Of course," said Miss Ingledew, taken aback. "It's a shop. I can hardly stop you." "No." Paton smiled. "But, after dark?" Miss Ingledew looked rather alarmed. "On Fridays, I'm open until eight," she said, and closed the door.

Paton stop you're scaring the hoes

#dag liveblogs charlie bone #asa pike #paton yewbeam #Bloor capes #<- only tagging the people & things with descriptions. for my own ease

[ogprincess96]

CHAPTER 1 - COKE COMA

BEFORE THE ACCIDENT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ Maybe you should slow down “ I hear my paranoid best friend Corina mumble from beside me I turn to give her a sly smile as she slumps into the yellow floral loveseat.

“ I'm fine you know that “ Rolling my eyes playfully making the annoyed girl sigh.

“ Until you snort a line of fentanyl and die” Corina shoots back.

“ Can't wait “ I mutter as I put the hundred bill to my sore nostril and snort the line throwing my head back always hating the drop.

“ With everything Luxx has been through I don't think anything or anyone can kill her, “ I turn to Mabel Whos hanging upside down off the side of the loveseat.

“ This party must be pretty fucking lame considering all you two can seem to do is worry about me or think about me in some way. I'm having a fantastic time or I was till buzz kill Betty “ I snap looking between my two closest but my glare lands on Corina.

“ Now that you pointed it out, this party is lame let's leave “ Corina doesn't wait for a reply as she stands and walks through the crowd of teenagers packed in this dimly light, musty basement.

Sighing I also stand and start making my way through the crowd, Mabel grabs my hand as we make our way up the stairs and through the rest of the house. The house itself was beautiful I mean what house in Beverly Hills wasn't but being cramped in the basement so we didn't disturb wakes the sleeping parents upstairs was beyond overrated and nothing like the college parties we were used to.

~~~~

Corina pulls slowly to my parents' driveway and stays far enough that her headlights don’t hit the house.

“ My intention wasn’t to be a buzzkill Luxx” Corina says .

Until now the car ride to my house had been completely silent but more because we were all pretty fucked up, Corina didn’t partake in the coke but she had taken a few shots so none of us felt overalls talkative or that’s how I took the silence.

“ Rina , you don’t need to worr”

“Luxxus Rose, you get your ass out of that car this instant” Mother screeches as she halls ass to Corina’s ranger rover and tries to pry the passenger door open.

I sigh looking at my girls before unlocking the door and before I can even step out I’m grabbed by the back of my head, Mother has my hair in her grasp and before I can even attempt to steady my feet I feel myself falling.

——

The pain in my head pounds as I open my eyes to darkness, attempting to take a breath just leaves me coughing what felt like my lungs up it took a few seconds then it probably should have smelled the smoke.

Where am I? What happened?

“ Hello!, Hello, is anyone in here” Someone yells .

The energy to respond to whoever was calling out from the darkness was just not sustainable.

“ Over there , I see something “ A voice calls again

—-

TWO WEEKS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

I lay in the hospital bed pretending to be asleep as my mother's best friend Beth and the cps worker talk openly about my future on the other side of the dark wooden door.

Their voices muffled but I can still make out most the conversation .

“ Back in the system, I mean I guess that makes sense considering she has no living family but she will be inheriting a fortune couldn’t that be enough for a judge to see her as an independent, “ Beth says a sense of panic in her voice.

“ The girl is 16 and from what I’ve heard from the doctors she’s newly 16. A child, one with a troubled past no less I don’t think any judge in their right mind would look at that girl and think she’s mature enough to handle life on her own especially when they hear about all the drugs found in her system “ A rough voice responds.

A loud sigh escapes Beth’s lips as she walks away from the two other adults that seemed to have your future in their hands .

The door swings open and you look at a fragile, tired-looking beth. Her normally straight raven black hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, exhaustion all over her face.

“ I don't remember what happened, “ I say simply before a hello I mean truly what is the point of manners in a situation like this?

“ There was a kitchen fire”

“ I don't remember anyone cooking, last I remember my mom was pulling me out of Corina’s car by my hair “ Beth shakily sighed and moves closer to the hospital bed pulling a chair with her to sit down

“ Never say that aloud again understood,” Beth says sternly giving me a hard glare. I could see it in her eyes, she didn't know what happened either but she thought I was involved somehow.

“ Your mother called me frantic the night of the fire “ Beth starts as I carefully watch the woman as she refuses to make eye contact, fidgeting with the gold, diamond-studded bracelet on her wrist. “ Said you had snuck out again, for what was it the third time that week alone “ Beth harshly throws at but the sudden shade did not affect me.

“ She worried about you, always I thought it was her just being overly protective because of how hard it was for her to become a mother in the first place, and once she got the little girl she always wanted she was too frightened to ever let her out of her sight, afraid that the life she got after all the years she never thought possible would disappear in a blink of an eye, turn of her head, the closing of a bedroom door,” Beth says a soft but a sad tone now to her voice.

“ She’s overbearing “ I mutter with a roll of my eyes .

“ Most young girls think their mother can be overbearing it’s true. But listen to me Luxxus when I tell you, you’re not safe”

Beth’s words left me in utter shock as I just stare at the lady I’d known since day one of my new life.

“ What does that even mean” I spat anger now overtaking my body “ Do you know something! Do you know who hurt my parents? Do you! Speak” my voice making its way to a full-on scream.

The hospital door flies open and the officer that must have been the one you heard talking to Beth and the Cps worker steps in.

“ Everything ok in here Ms. Morgan,” The officer asks looking between Beth and me.

“ No, Beth was just leaving” I simply state and roll to my left side slowly closing my eyes

—-

“ Mama” I whimper letting my little feet carry me, stumbling every so often through the sand.

“ Mama I’m scared” I cry looking around trying to navigate my way through the dark night.

I don’t know how long I walked the beach, I don’t know how long I cried but my throat now hurt and I just wanted my mama to make me feel better.

“ Mama “ I Wail falling to the sandy beach floor.

“ Uh, Hello” A small voice calls into the night with all my strength I push my little body up to see a small light getting closer.

“ Mama “ I cry again .

“ Dad, Dad there’s a little girl out here” The small voice yells within just a minute or two a small boy was at my side with a flashlight the flashlight shined just enough on his face to see the small boy was older than me, he had blond shaggy hair.

“ It’s ok you’re safe now, I’m Rafe,” The boy says holding out his hand for me to take.

—

“ Luxxus wake up” I’m woken up by the shaking of my shoulder and the harsh whisper yell in my ear.

“ What the fuck” I snap

“ We need to go, we need to get you out of here,” Beth says in a panicked whisper.

“ Why? What’s going on ? “ I say equally as panicked “ Beth I just woke up from some drug dazed coma to find out I’m a orphan again , I’m not safe and still you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on”

“ There’s no time right now just trust me “

“ Where am I suppose to go I’m broke!”

Beth let out a cackle that made you jump, “ You? Broke sweetheart your parents left you everything, thankfully most of the money is in offshore accounts so I’ll be able to transfer to an account you can use “ Beth says more to herself than me, she looks off.

“ Offshore” I question not exactly sure what she meant by that

“ Luxxus what do you know about black beards treasure, “ Beth asks suddenly

You look at the older woman like she was completely losing it.

“ Nothing”

“ Don’t mind that yet , we need to get you home” Beth says brushing off your concerned demeanor.

“ Beth, I don’t have a home “ I mutter and truly I’m starting to wonder if my parents' deaths pushed their poor friend to her breaking point.

“ You do , Of course you do , the Outer banks”

—- 2 days later —-

I was here, the outer banks a place I barely remember and I am still unsure of why Beth sent me here.

“ Hidden in plain sight” Beth rambled on on the way to the ferry dock.

“Who is after me, “ I ask still as confused now as the day I woke up from my coke coma.

“ Bad men” Is all she said before changing the subject.

“ I know you don’t remember much about living on the island, but that island is small I'm sure many will remember the abandoned child years ago, we don’t want that you will have to go by a different name and maybe not that different “

“ No” I simply state “ Why the outer banks ?”

Beth sighs I’ve noticed she does that a lot .

“ All in good time” Beth replies.

I stare out at the ocean , up at the moon , the stars. You don’t see that much in Beverly Hills the city lights always taken over the natural night sky.

It wasn’t hard to have a party on this island I heard about two different ones while I sat inside a small family restaurant called “ The Wreck” earlier today and choose the one based on one of the teen boy's comment “ There’s going to be hella snow at this party “ and he was right there was, I did a few lines with some handsome boys and wandered towards the water afterward.

“ Hey”

I turn my head to see a tall guy standing behind me but moving closer once he sees I’ve I know legend his presence

“ Hello,” I said brightly with a smile not that he would be able to see in the dark. The boy sat down beside me and turned his head to face me the moonlight lighting his face perfectly. He was handsome, very handsome. His hair was slicked back but some hair dangled in his face I’m sure the wild night knocked some loose he had been throwing his head back all night doing lines, I remember seeing him before I took my lines.

“ I haven’t seen you around before “ He states , this wasn’t a question.

“ You’re right , I just moved here” I reply simply

“ Well at least you found yourself at the right kind of party, “ The boy says but I’m not completely sure what he meant by it.

“ Anyway I just wanted to make sure you were ok, saw those fat lines you took like a champ “

“ I’m a big girl but I appreciate a stranger's kindness to make sure I’m not over here Oding in the sand, “ I say with a small chuckle “ But I should be going it was nice to meet you ..” I say but quickly realize I never got his name

“ Rafe” The handsome boy says with a smirk,

“ Lux” I say with a smirk of my own as I make my way down the beach

“ See you around Lux” Rafe calls as he goes in the opposite direction

As I walk to my new home I can’t help but have a weird feeling in my stomach. Why do I feel like that name is familiar…

------

Please let me know what you think of Chapter 1 - Coke Coma

This is an Oc x Rafe story so I wanted to start with back round on Luxx. So it isn't all being thrown in at random times of the story .

I will add warnings when need be , it will get spicy eventually . I also want to add that the story starts at the very beginning of the show and will follow the storyline to the best of my ability .

Luxx will not be a Pogue or Kook just yet 😉 but she is one or the other by blood that will just be found out further down the story path.

#rafe cameron x oc #mystery #the pogues #the kooks

[geniusmains]

Textmate cell phone

#TEXTMATE CELL PHONE HOW TO#

Then there it is, the message 'sabi ng ex ko masarap daw ako. I'm shaking at this point as I wait for the loading bar of the opening message to complete. Then the backlight starts to flicker (yes it flickers when there is an incoming message or call) I know a reply is incoming and there it is. I tried to be cool or at least pretend to be cool so my reply was 'depende, bakit masarap ka ba?' At this point, I cannot hold it to myself, I sneakily showed the message to my classmate next to me (proud ako perstaym eh!) and he gave me a muscle flex sign which means yeah boy! (to validate my ego) I cannot stop staring at the tiny display screen of my 5110 with the orange backlight. Suddenly, I felt a vibration, she replies and the message is along the lines of 's ino to? oo malibog ako, ikaw ba?' Oh boy, I felt the urge down to my stomach like I wanted to scream like I won a lottery. All this while pretending I'm listening to my Values Education teacher who I swear looks like the late Miriam Defensor. My intro was something like 'hello binigay ni Bryan ung number mo, malibog ka ba?'Thinking about it now, makes me laugh, oh man I was really fucked up growing up. Me having some background on how the textmate-system works (kasi nakikibasa na kami) I started a little aggressive. But tables turned, I now have my own and he gave me a number to start texting. Ung isa sa tropa ko mejo may kaya and nauna na sya magkaroon ng cp saming lahat, nakikibasa lang kami sa mga katextmate nya. Suddenly nagkaroon ng hope ung mga kagaya namin na loser sa school. Then it started, the amazing Sun of unlimited text. Nung una pang porma lang, para feeling 'in' ka sa school pero wala naman load. Mybeloved Nokia5110 (3310 pag mejo angkat sa buhay) a hand me down phone from my cousin did serve me good. (well ngayon din naman) I was not part of the 'cool kids' pero I do have small group of friends na mas prefer maginom ng gin-pomelo kesa maghatid sundo or manligaw ng mga babae. I attended public school, so expected ung mga students varies from class A - eto ung mga pwede, class B - pwede na konti ayos lang, pero ung mga class S - eto ung mga iniinvite sa palaro ni Taguro. Even better pag ung bra nila is black or red (the best)! you can see it through the thin white uniform blouse. I was in 2nd-year high school and we always wait in corridors for 3rd and 4th years walking just to stare at their well develop breasts. (ohh the nostalgia is real!! haha).Īs a normal high school boy, ung kalibugan ko is unlimited din. I was in high school back then, it was the hype of 'clan' and unlitext of Sun cellular. You will never know the feeling and suspense of meeting your textmate or sexmate for the first time. Yes for those who don't know, that was blind tinder for you self-entitled young generations! haha. Like everyone else who is 'batang 90's' all of us have been to the era of textmate, which then turns to sexmate. So, after a few deep inhale, hold, exhale - fck it, let's go. I had a severe case of anxiety and my therapist suggested thatI should try to look at myself from the outside and the best way is to tell my story, to myself.

#TEXTMATE CELL PHONE HOW TO#

I honestly have no idea how to write and do not aspire to be one.I do emails, documentation, andpresentations as part of my work, that is as far as my writing skills go.

#Textmate cell phone