#child neglect tw

[star-anise]

The thing about "parents' rights" and "protect the children [from hearing that other ways of life than ours are possible and okay]" is that it is literally, in the purest sense of the word, patriarchy.

The word literally means "rule by the fathers". We're generally used to hearing it describe how adult women can be dominated by adult men. However, that's not where patriarchy ends; feminists have been less eager to address how within that system, women can exercise power and domination of their own through the traditional gender roles of motherhood. Their maternal rights to power and dominance may have traditionally been lesser than paternal ones, but they were never less than their minor children's. Even single-mother or female-only families can be, in this sense, patriarchal.

Patriarchal families are a complex system that grants parents complete legal and practical control over nearly every aspect of their children's lives. The patriarchal family controls where the child lives, who takes care of them, what rules they have to follow, how they are educated, who they associate with, what healthcare they receive, what religion they practice, and whether they can work or control any money they earn or that is given to or for them.

Normally discussions of patriarchy are a lot more abstract. But right now it's very concrete and real: we are fighting to limit the family's control over children on issues where we can observe that families sometimes tend to make decisions that are bad for the children's welfare or that disrespect their human rights.

Whether a minor child can get an abortion. Whether they can receive gender-affirming care. Whether it's okay to lie or coerce your child to ensure they follow your religion. Whether they deserve to be educated about factual histories or scientific theories that are necessary to understanding the world around them. Whether they deserve to learn accurate, age-appropriate information about consent, setting boundaries, how their bodies and the bodies of other people work, what a normal range of gender and sexual identities look like, what healthy or unhealthy relationships look like, and what sex is, how it works, what its positives and negatives are, and how they might navigate the world, whether or not they ever want to have it.

Hell, on some levels we're still arguing about whether it's okay to hit your kids, or whether children have the right, similar to the rights adults have, not to be assaulted or abused.

Because there are a LOT of people who say: No. Parents should have 100% control over any or all of those issues. If the parent says no, the child is not allowed to do or have any of those things, and nobody else should be allowed to interfere and provide them to the child without their parents' consent.

Pointing this out often results in parents saying, "Oh, so you want just ANYONE to be able to go up and talk sex with kids? You want kids to be able to decide to jump off cliffs with nobody stopping them???" As though parents are the single protective force in the universe, the only thing standing between their child and the ravages of absolute chaos.

On the contrary: most of the time the argument is for children to receive care and guidance from adults who are monitored to ensure they treat children in safe and appropriate ways, who have spent many years studying the best and most rigorously tested of our collective understanding of how to prepare children for happy, healthy lives.

And we are arguing against people who believe that the only important qualification needed to refuse children that kind of care is to be ranked above them in their family hierarchy.

In conclusion...

Fuck the patriarchy. Children have human rights too.

#child abuse tw #child neglect tw #staranise original #patriarchy #children's rights

[sickiehugs]

When a character is feeling super sick and shitty but they don't have a fever, so they aren't taking it seriously or resting because to them, they aren't really sick unless there's visible proof. Maybe it comes from when they were growing up, and their family never took their illness seriously unless there was a fever. Maybe they would accuse them of lying to get out of things. So now, they worry if that really is the case. They work themselves to the bone and feel like they're going to collapse, but they aren't really sick unless they have a fever.

Bonus points if they have a partner who cares about their well-being, and as soon as they see them in the state they're in, they immediately make a fuss and insist that they rest. The character somehow feels good, even though they don't want their partner worrying, because someone is finally making it a big deal. It's finally real, it's finally serious.

#totally not projecting #sickfic #whump #whumpblr #fever whump #illness whump #fever #sickfic prompts #sickie #sickfic tropes #sick fanfic #promptiehugs #this is secretly a vent post shhhh /hj #turns out i was chronically ill this whole time so fuck you mom #i want a partner who can tuck me into bed #child neglect tw

[tired-fandom-ndn]

I completely agree with gravecest having a breeding kink but I'm so obsessed with an AU where they break into the house and learn that their parents decided to try one more time with having kids and they run into a baby in their parents new place, clearly left to fend for itself while their mom was doing that grocery run. So many mixed emotions about being replaced but also knowing that even with this one they were fucking up, and wanting to prove they were better than their parents by raising the kid together (which also sells them as "Mr. and Mrs. Graves). And also makes them weird dark mirror reflections to A Series of Unfortunate Events :)

ANON YOU GET MEEEEEEEE

But god, the Graves parents completely restarting EVERYTHING. They have new jobs, a new house, new lives, why shouldn't they have a new child too? A perfect, normal child for their new, perfect lives? One that isn't fucked up like their other two, because obviously the problem was that Andrew and Ashley just Weren't Right, the Graves parents would never consider that their own parenting could've played a role in how their children turned out. Everything will be right now.

(They adopt instead of trying to have another on their own; pregnancy sucks and the agency was more than happy to help a pair of grieving parents start over.)

Except babies are loud and they're gross and they're annoying and they're so needy. They can tolerate working from home on alternating days, because they don't have an older child to dump their baby on and a babysitter is just a waste of money, but neither of them like it and the baby is left to cry in its crib more often than not, the monitor turned off because it's just so annoying. And sometimes Mrs. Graves just needs a break. Babies are sturdy, it'll be fine if she just runs out for a quick grocery run, 30 minutes, an hour at the absolute most.

When Andrew and Ashley find the baby, it's obvious that this isn't the first time it's been left alone like that and that the abandonment isn't the only way it's been neglected. The nursery is half-finished and nearly empty compared to the master bedroom and living room, it needs a diaper change badly, and it clearly hasn't been washed or fed as regularly as it needs to be. This baby is an uncomfortable look into their own childhoods but somehow worse and it makes both of them see red.

Keeping that baby is so fucking stupid, they both know it would be smarter to leave it at a hospital or on a neighbor's doorstep, but. . . they want so badly to be better than their parents. They want to prove that they're capable of the love and kindness that their parents refused to give them, and it'll sell their story better! People are always more sympathetic to a young couple with a baby, even if it'll be more expensive and make them more vulnerable. Their parents had enough basic supplies, formula and a car seat and a baby carrier and all that crap, that they won't have to spend too much of the money on baby stuff right away at least.

(Andrew is frantically googling infant care and trying to figure out the logistics of raising that baby, meanwhile Ashley has a dozen tabs about inducing lactation and thinking about how the more like a "real" family they seem, the harder it would be for Andrew to abandon them.)

At dinner, Ashley gives the baby a few tiny sips of broth from the soup, wanting it to experience something it wouldn't get a chance to later, consuming their shitty parents like its older siblings and new parents get to. Andrew just sighs and reminds her to cool the broth first and not too much, damn it Ashley, it's not old enough!

#Anonymous #tcoaal #coffincest #gravecest #child neglect tw #child abuse tw #ask to tag #shipcest

[with-my-murder-flute]

Gideon Nav and the motherless child

(A post I promised at Wiscon in May that I'd write, and am finally getting around to.)

Gideon does not come off as a severely abused and neglected child, and I think there's a reason for that.

Both she and Harrow have full on The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog-calibre childhoods. Harrow acts more like it, from her extremely low thresholds for sensory overstimulation to her entire social... everything. Those are all things kids raised in neglect are way more likely to deal with.

When I first read GtN I was in my habitual "Look self, not everyone works in your field, SFF authors give their characters these kinds of horrible childhoods all the time, nobody else cares about the realistic consequences of bringing a child up that way" mode. Like, it was nice that Muir seemed aware that the Ninth House's children generally would be more sickly and have higher fatality rates, but I also didn't want Gideon to be one speck less herself, so I could live with the slight implausibility.

And then we got Harrow the Ninth. We got the slow revelation of the Sleeper. The revenant. Wake's immense rage.

"I hated that damned sword for years. I don’t know why; it just felt strange—rancorous."

"Where the hell have you been hiding for nineteen years?” “Where—you—fucking—left—me. In my bones. Then a blade. In—that—fucking—hole.”

I immediately remembered: Gideon loved her sword so much she could frigging marry it.

Here's my theory: Gideon is Gideon in part because her mother has been haunting her for years.

Children need love if they're going to grow up. I don't mean that metaphorically. Babies that aren't held, rocked, touched, and soothed don't release the same mix of hormones that tell their bones it's time to move outwards. The steady attachment of baby to the adult who takes care of them is the central pillar around which children construct everything from control of their faculties to their senses of self. When babies are not cared for and able to attach to loving, reliable caretakers, they struggle in so many ways. I know this sounds really vague and ~vibes~-y, but I mean it in the sense of, "here is a curated reading list of scientific research on the topic, which I provide because I can't condense it while also shouting about Griddlehark on Tumblr"

So in GtN, Gideon just seemed like this ridiculously optimistic outcome for a severely maltreated child. She's optimistic and self-confident, brazen but moral, outgoing but centred. She's smart enough to hold her own against Harrow, to make complicated plans for the future, and to cope when her plans encounter hiccups. She knows that she wants to leave the Ninth House, and when she finally manages it, she doesn't panic or find some new miserable hole to shove herself into; she gleefully steps out and stretches her wings. And yet, her less-than-stellar relationships with people back home don't prevent her (in any way other than a little shyness) from forming new, varied, complicated connections with all the different people at Canaan House.

That's all... like, it is wildly optimistic to think that a child whose closest adult attachment figure from twelve months old was as distant and limited as Aiglamene would be like. That is winning the child development lottery.

That, or...

Maybe when she was seven, and her biggest emotional attachment (besides Harrow) was to the imaginary skeleton mother in her head, Aiglamene broke it to her that her mother wasn't out in rotation yet. Maybe Aiglamene led her to the niche where Wake's bones lay. Maybe when Aiglamene left, Gideon sat down there and said, Hello, mother. I love you.

Maybe it was then? Or maybe it was before? As a revenant, Wake's closest link to the living world was her own body, her own bones. But she also had thanergetic links with things like her murder weapon. Her murderer. The baby she'd died delivering to the Tomb. That made it possible before, certainly, but physical proximity counts for something, so maybe it was then, that Wake first tried possessing a living soul.

Wake whispering tiny inaudible suggestions into her daughter's ear like: Fuck this place. Fuck these bones. Light this place on fire. They don't own you. You don't owe them shit. Get up, get out, escape. Blow this place apart. Fight, defy them, make them pay, and remember that ten thousand years of history brought you here to stand against them. Here is what it's like to be a human being, to throw your shoulders back, to fight with people you trust, to gauge your enemies clearly, to know the power you punch with. And if there are no other standing orders: Live. Live. Live.

You cannot tell me Gideon's first act upon receiving a real sword, a soldier's sword, was not to take it down to her mother's niche and show it off. It was probably like offering her an open backpack to hop into.

Maybe all Wake's "mothering" was just her trying with singleminded rage to program instructions for detonation into her bomb. Even still: At least Gideon had a mum who wanted her to be as explosive as she was, and backed her up for every step of it.

Harrow didn't even get that much.

#the locked tomb #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #gideon nav #htn spoilers #commander wake

[nerves-nebula]

ok, good talk everyone 👍

#tmnt #tmnt au #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt splinter #teenage mutant neglected turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #nnstuff #nnart #child neglect tw #child abuse tw #neglected art #tmnt comic

[charlataninred]

Quick question:

#I’m trying to figure out if this was a normal experience or Very Fucked Up Actually #aegis talks to the void #child neglect tw #< adding that bc apparently my experiences are not universal

[compassionatereminders]

i guess you could call this a vent or whatever but im going to tell you about something that has been making me crazy lately

so when i was like 3 i took a serious blunt force blow to the forehead. our house had hardwood floors and my brother had left a sock on the floor and i slipped on it and hit my head on the rounded corner of our oak coffee table. it left an inch long open wound and i was completely dazed and unresponsive, but conscious.

here is where i start getting frustrated. my mom didnt call 911 or take me to the ER, she took me to our family pediatrician. already really questionable imo but it gets worse. so ive got this gaping hole in my forehead and im unresponsive right? so what do they do? sew my forehead shut right there in the pediatricians office while i watched. didnt give me any anaesthetic or anything because i was, again, completely unresponsive.

then my mom was like "okay you arent bleeding anymore, can i leave now so i can go see the play i wanted to see?" but at this point im screaming and crying because im a toddler with fucking brain damage and a stitched wound that still hurts.

so she just took me home and that was that. and then for months afterwords she couldnt get me to wake up in the morning so she stuffed my limp body into my school clothes herself and took me to preschool half asleep. and then nobody ever spoke about it again except to make jokes.

its been two decades and i am only now realizing that ive had serious brain damage the whole time. my mom and brother have been shaming and belittling me for years for displaying symptoms of the brain damage that they gave me. my mom calls me a fucking spaz and my brother is pissed because he thinks i get "special treatment" instead of realizing that i need more help because he gave me brain damage. its like the final puzzle piece that explains why my life is such a mess.

and im just so overwhelmed by the fact that my mom and brother are directly responsible for the immense suffering ive endured over the past 20 years. all my health problems, the mental illness, the inability to avoid being abused, its all because of the brain damage. and they keep making fun of me for it. im not even mad im just. horrified. the sheer negligence of it all makes me sick. how many people like me are out there suffering from old brain injuries they didnt realize they had?

its like my brain cant even comprehend how fucked up the whole situation is. which is why im here telling it to you in the hopes that you will agree that its very bad 🙃

This is abuse and neglect on a level that no one and nothing could ever justify and I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. You deserved SO much better! ❤️

#chat with kat #abuse tw #child abuse tw #neglect tw #child neglect tw #medical neglect tw #medical abuse tw #trauma tw #injury tw #ableism tw #danger tw

[aita-blorbos]

aita for being glad my brothers dead

i (16 m) was raised by my older brother (adult m) for the first 13 years of my life. didnt really go to school or anything, lookin back im pretty sure i didnt legally exist, only contact i had outside of him was with a few other kids my age through this messaging program we all used. didnt think much of it at the time, figured thats how it was for everyone

thing is, as far back as i can remember he would take me to the roof of our apartment complex and make me fight him with like, swords and shit. said it was to make me stronger, more of a man, prepare me for somethin big but i was a scrawny underfed kid so you can probably imagine how prepared i was feelin. couldnt even let my guard down in the apartment, he was always settin up stupid pranks with these puppets of his. i looked up to him though, thought he was the coolest guy on earth, wanted to be just like him

when i was 13 my friends and i played this wack ass game that ended the world and did other shit, idk how to really explain it, our houses were dropped on these weird planets and we had to solve puzzles. just dumb game shit. our guardians came with us though and ended up dying one way or another. spent the last three years playin that game, so ive had a lot of time to reflect, and ive kind of landed on just being relieved hes gone, but he didnt do anything all that bad so i feel kinda guilty thinkin shit like that. so, idk, aita i guess

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #hey if this is your submission i want to let you know that this isnt an official rule or anything but personally if you submit something- #-thats like 'i ([age] trans [m/f])' i re-send it on anon to just say 'i ([age] [m/f])] bc the other way makes me uncomfortable #so thats why a word has been omitted here

[lovenpeace-pkmn]

☽ - a memory of their father

[Lord Ghetsis leaves N’s room, his long coat swishing behind him. Anthea watches him go with her hands folded in her lap. He’d forgotten they were there, she’s certain–not even sparing her or Concordia a glance as he’d spoken to N and left. He must have. Surely if he’d remembered they were watching, he wouldn’t have… 

She needs to talk to Concordia about this.

Gathering her resolve, she dusts off her skirts and stands up. “We are going out too, alright? I must speak with Concordia for a moment.”

Concordia looks up at Anthea, startled. N’s face falls. “Can’t you do it here?”

Anthea’s heart twists, and she almost reconsiders, but this isn’t something she can say in front of her eight-year-old prince. (Nor in front of his Pokémon friends–she and Concordia had learned quickly that any secret overheard by Pokémon would soon find it’s way back to N’s ears.) “No, I’m–I am sorry, my lord,” she says. “We will return soon. Why don’t you keep helping Woobat with that trick she was practicing earlier?”

N sighs dejectedly. “Alright… Come on, Zorua.”

Concordia narrows her eyes at Anthea, but she doesn’t say anything until they’re across the hall to their own rooms. She leans against the kitchen counter. “Alright, A, what’s up?”

“Um.” She takes a deep breath and forces the words out before she can hesitate. “This might sound crazy, but I don’t think Lord Ghetsis likes N very much.”

Concordia blinks at her, then glances at the door like she’s worried someone might be listening. “Don’t say that. Lord Ghetsis is a good guy, he took us in and he wants to help the Pokémon…”

“The way he looked at him when his back was turned, didn’t you see it?” He’s looked at N like that before, nose slightly wrinkled and lips pressed in a tight frown, when N mixed barks and growls in with his speech. Anthea had thought perhaps he was displeased with the progress of N’s Galarian lessons–he always had been insistent that N learn to speak like a human and not “like a freak.” But N’s speech had been perfectly fine today. He hadn’t done anything wrong at all. And yet Ghetsis had still… “He does that same thing when he doesn’t like something.”

Concordia frowns, and Anthea knows she saw it too. “That doesn’t–it was a trick of the light. He didn’t mean it. Of course he likes Lord N. What kind of father–” She cuts off and frowns uneasily at the floor, because they both know what kind of father. They’d come from an orphanage. Lots of fathers didn’t love their children, or didn’t love them enough not to treat them in ways that got CPS called on them.

And also: “The same kind who doesn’t love his daughters.”

Concordia’s eyes widen. “Shut up! Of course he loves us! Just because he never says it, or calls us his daughters, or treats us like family, or–or–”

“Or looks at us without yelling at us?”

“Stop it! He loves us! All of us!”

“He doesn’t care about us, and he doesn’t like N!” Anthea doesn’t know why she’s pushing back–why she can’t just agree with Concordia. It would be easier to pretend. But really she’s known for ages now that Lord Ghetsis didn’t love the two of them, and she knows Concordia knows too, and why can’t she just admit the truth–

(If she can just be angry about that, then she doesn’t have to be scared of what it might mean that Ghetsis brought them all here and doesn’t love any of them, even N. Of what else he might be lying about, if he lied about that.)

(If she’s yelling about it, then she’s not crying. She’s too old to cry.)

...

(Days later, she’ll admit to herself, and then hate herself for it: it’s almost a relief that Ghetsis hates N too.)]

#writing tag #memory ask game #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokeblog rp #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #//they are like. 14 here

[thatadhdfeel]

my therapist sent me an adhd and trauma related podcast so i’m gonna listen to it later and see if there’s anything useful to share with you guys! we also talked about emotional dysregulation and rejection sensitive dysphoria and she confirmed that she sees that a lot. she’s great, and pretty up to date when it comes to revelations/research about adhd. interestingly, and i think this is a very discussion provoking take, though IMO not necessarily correct, she believes adhd could have to do with trauma as a baby. in her opinion when there’s chaos/neglect/etc an infant will dissociate as a coping mechanism, and that mechanism follows them as they grow, so even though it’s maladaptive, it’s ingrained in them — hence the being unfocused, i don’t think i reallyyyyy agree with this opinion though? she also believes it has more to do with generational trauma than genetics. i think it’s an interesting theory, but i don’t really believe that’s the case for everyone because not everyone with adhd had a bad childhood/infancy. but i could maybe see it at least being linked for some? what do you guys think about this?

edit; to be clear i don’t think it’s really accurate even though she’s right with other things i’m not sold on it (universally at least). i think it’s more of like … it’s not a symptom of it, but could be a contributing factor for some people. but adhd itself shouldn’t cause dissociation. i think this could spawn an interesting discussion tho even if i don’t agree

#not feels #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #dw tho she’s a wonderful therapist she just isn’t exactly on the mark with this in my opinion

[star-anise]

reading supercut: disability, body image, and trauma

A glimpse into the clothes thrashing around in the washing machine of my mind, with apologies that it is still a wet lump and not an actual synthesis of ideas.

From Easy Beauty: A Memoir by Chloé Cooper Jones:

[This event] embedded a damaging idea in me, one I’d recognize deeply when I read Scarry years later: beauty was a matter of particulars aligning correctly. My body put me in a bracketed, undercredited sense of beauty. But if I could get the particulars lined up just right, I could be re-seen, discovered like the palm tree is discovered. To be deserving of the whole range of human desires, I had to be extraordinary in all other aspects. In this new light, I started to see my work, my intellect, my skills, my moments of humor or goodness, not as valuable in themselves, but as ways of easing the impact of my ugliness. If only I could pile up enough good qualities, they could obscure my unacceptable body. [...] accepting the argument that beauty was malleable came, for me, with a cost. The Platonian view rejected me cleanly, but Hume and Scarry left a door ajar and I’ve spent a lifetime trying to contort my form to see if I could pass through it.

From Til We Have Faces: A Myth Retold by CS Lewis:

I now determined that I would go always veiled. I have kept this rule, within doors and without, ever since. It is a sort of treaty made with my ugliness. There had been a time in childhood when I didn't yet know I was ugly. Then there was a time (for in this book I must hide none of my shames or follies) when I believed, as girls do — and as Batta was always telling me — that I could make it more tolerable by this or that done to my clothes or my hair. Now, I chose to be veiled.

From Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy of Borderline Personality Disorder by Marsha Linehan:

Inhibited grieving is understandable among borderline patients. People can only stay with a very painful process or experience if they are confident that it will end some day, some time—that they can "work through it," so to speak. It is not uncommon to hear borderline patients say they feel that if they ever do cry, they will never stop Indeed, that is their common experience—the experience of not being able to control or modulate their own emotional experiences. [...] In the face of such helplessness and lack of control, inhibition and avoidance of cues associated with grieving are not only understandable, bur perhaps wise at times. Inhibition, however, has its costs. [...] Volkan (1983) describes an interesting phenomenon, "established pathological mourning", which is similar to the pattern I am describing. In established pathological mourning, the individual wishes to complete mourning, but at the same time persistently attempts to undo the reality of the loss.

From How to Respond to Criticism by Danny Lavery:

Apologize, but don’t really mean it, and plant a seed of secret resentment so deep in your own heart that years later you can’t even remember that you’re the one who nurtured it and made it grow, it seems that much like a native part of you.

From Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed:

[After learning that state child protective services had made a budgetary decision to only intervene with children under 12, to one of the teenagers that regularly shared stories of abuse at home] I told her it was not okay, that it was unacceptable, that it was illegal and that I would call and report this latest, horrible thing. But I did not tell her it would stop. I did not promise that anyone would intervene. I told her it would likely go on and she’d have to survive it. That she’d have to find a way within herself to not only escape the shit, but to transcend it [...] I told her that escaping the shit would be hard, but that if she wanted to not make her mother’s life her destiny, she had to be the one to make it happen. She had to do more than hold on. She had to reach. She had to want it more than she’d ever wanted anything. She had to grab like a drowning girl for every good thing that came her way and she had to swim like fuck away from every bad thing. She had to count the years and let them roll by, to grow up and then run as far as she could in the direction of her best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by her own desire to heal.

From Essays in Aesthetics by Jean-Paul Sartre:

Freedom is what you do with what's been done to you.

From "I Know What You Think of Me" by Tim Kreider:

if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

#mental health tw #trauma tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #staranise original #kinda #there's also a lot I've been reading about avoidant personality disorder that DEFINITELY needs a lot more baking #before it's ready to be unleashed onto the public

[journeysfable]

I can't believe I decided to take a break from writing a script for the qsmp recap video. I stopped at the weird "the feds say the eggs have only 2 lives but can seemingly bring them back whenever they feel like so do they really only have 2 lives???" only to learn about Shion/Aster/Memories/Hope/The Abandoned Egg. Lol...? It's kinda funny but that was also one of the saddest things I've ever read and I don't really feel like laughing rn

#qsmp #liveblogging #child death tw #child neglect tw

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A community just outside of Winnipeg will soon be home to a safe place for people to surrender their infants anonymously.

The Landmark Fire Hall is the second location in Canada to install what's known as a Hope's Cradle, an initiative started a few years ago by Gems for Gems, a Calgary-based organization that works with survivors of domestic abuse.

Allan Rau, fire chief for the Rural Municipality of Taché, said the support from people working at the fire hall has been huge.

"Everybody within the fire department has embraced it. They all look for updates," Rau said Friday.

"They're very, very happy that it has been put in place. But also, they don't want to see it used."

The installation was completed this week, and the cradle is going through a two-week testing phase to make sure all its components — including heating, a camera, an alarm system and door locking mechanisms — are working properly.

Gems for Gems founder Jordan Guildford said the Hope's Cradle initiative was a response to cases of infants being found abandoned in places like garbage bins. The first location opened in Alberta in 2021.

"We don't know what it's like to be in anyone else's shoes.… All we can do is try to understand what we see and try to be there for the people that are in need," Guildford said. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#cdnpoli #child neglect tw #child abuse tw #infant surrendering #Manitoba #Taché

[memesomething]

for adult muses with a bad childhood, rb this post & put in the tags some of the subtle “signs” there are that signal their childhood wasn’t so great. do they flinch easily? assume they’re at fault if something goes wrong? does it ache, to feel wanted? 

#abuse tw #child abuse tw #neglect tw #child neglect tw #ask to tag #rb tags game

[nerves-nebula]

Raphael’s Amputation Saga:

Warning, I had absolutely no idea how to end this one

——

He shouldn’t have been playing alone. He knew that, in the back of his mind. If any of the others tried to do what he was doing he would chase them down and drag them back home.

But Raph was different. He was bigger and smarter and stronger. He could find his way back because he was older and he knew how to not get lost. Plus, Leo had gotten Mikey and Donnie to play a game of knights and dragons with him and Raph hated that game. Leo always made him be the dragon. He didn’t like being the dragon. The dragon was the *bad guy*.

He also knew which sewer grate usually dropped all the coolest toys. From above he could hear human kids yelling and laughing, but he knew not to look. Looking meant someone could see him.

So he waited, holding onto his tail as he splashed in the water. It was getting really long, just like Dad’s. He liked using his tail to copy what Dad’s did, practicing to make it move the way Dad moved his when he taught them their ninja stuff.

He could swear he was getting better with it every day. He didn’t trip on it as much and he was good about making sure it wasn’t dragging where Mikey could step on it (even if Mikey thought it was funny). He could move it around easier, too! Donnie and Leo played a game to see who could jump over his tail longest while he was wagging it and it was the funnest most greatest game ever.

But now he was waiting.

He held his tail in his mouth as he bounced in the water of the drain pipe, giggling as he went. Maybe no one would drop a toy today. That would be sad, but at least he had some time to play by himself!

If he didn’t get any new toys today maybe he could come back and sneak up when it was dark. Sometimes kids forgot toys on the playground itself and he could take them to share with his brothers. Donnie was really good at fixing anything broken, too, so he could just grab anything!

Maybe he could convince them to play superheroes again and they could-

Something terribly loud happened up top. It was sharp and painful, banging multiple times. Something smashed against the grate of the drain and Raph froze, terrified.

He bit down.

He didn’t know why he bit down, but he did.

Raph knew he had sharp teeth. He’d bit Leo once when he was mad and Dad had had to give him stitches. Leo had been angry and scared for days after.

He didn’t realize just how much his bite hurt.

He kept his teeth clenched, though. Why wasn’t he letting go? Why couldn’t he let go?

His teeth sunk deeper into his own flesh.

The noises up top were still loud. He could hear some people screaming. He couldn’t understand their words but they were loud and there were so many and everything smelled like blood- so much blood.

—

He didn’t remember getting home. He must’ve let go of his tail at some point, but his mouth still tasted like blood.

He looked down at his tail. He must’ve dragged it through the water because it was less gross than he thought it would be, but it was still bleeding.

He had to hide it. Dad hated when they got hurt. He’d been in big trouble when he bit Leo and Dad would be so mad that he’d hurt himself. How could he do that? Why did he do that? Why didn’t he just *let go*?

He ran to the bathroom and tore into the first aid kit. They had to keep lots of stuff in it because Mikey was really good at getting scraped up and Donnie got sick a lot, so it wasn’t hard to find some bandaids to cover the bites.

He whimpered as he stuck the first bandage, the fabric soaking through with blood almost immediately.

He was gonna need a lot of bandages.

—

His tail wasn’t getting better. The bleeding had stopped but now it was turning gross colors and it was turning black. It hurt really bad, too.

Thankfully, Dad hadn’t noticed yet. He had been a lot more cagey lately, determined they didn’t leave the lair. Apparently whatever that loud thing was the other day was actually really bad and dangerous. He pretended to be scared to hide in his room but his tail hurt so bad he couldn’t help but cry.

The gross colored bit was spreading too. At first it was just in the scab, but by now it was spread almost halfway up his tail, making it hard to move it at all without hurting really bad. Worst of all, the bite started smelling bad and was oozing some gross stuff that he knew was bad.

He cried, hating himself for running away. He should’ve just listened to Leo and played the dragon. If he was a dragon he wouldn’t be hurting. He wouldn’t be hiding from everyone under his bed, sobbing, wishing he could curl his tail around him for comfort.

Donnie had already come in to check on him, but Raph had been able to get him to go away. Mikey and Leo wouldn’t be as easy to convince, and if Mikey or Leo found out he was hurt then they’d tell Dad and Dad would yell at him.

He was already in pain, he didn’t want to be yelled at.

He clutched his teddy bear close, burying his beak it its matted fur, staining it with more tears.

—

“Red! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Raph wailed, clinging to Draxum’s neck hard enough to start choking him.

“Why the hell did you let it get this bad?” Draxum hissed, trying to pull Raph’s arms looser around his neck while not dropping the already injured child, “This is terribly infected! Spirits alive, the end of it is practically already dead.”

In the end, Mikey or Leo didn’t have to find him. Draxum stopped by for a random visit and came looking for him. Now Mikey was crying and Leo and Donnie were holding him, looking at him like he was dying.

“What the hell do we do?”

“Well first we need to clean it and see how bad it is. Fuck, this is *not* what I meant when I said I had a doctorate, rat.”

The tub’s water was cold. He cried as the water touched his burning hot tail, painful and so shocking his vision went white.

Dad and Draxum continued to argue.

One of them grabbed his tail and pain laced through his body, ripping up through his spine, and he passed out.

—

When he woke up he was cold. He had a blanket placed over him and he was laid on the couch. He carefully moved to look at his tail.

It wasn’t better.

Someone had wrapped it in some white bandages, but he could see the gross ooze seeping through, and it still hurt.

He whimpered, pulling the blanket over his head, trying to hide.

“You have to consider that it will have to be removed.”

That was Draxum. He was using the voice he used just before him and Dad started yelling.

“Removed? And who will do that, Draxum? You?”

Dad was also using his going-to-yell-soon voice.

“Would you prefer the infection spread?” Draxum snapped, “It’s no wonder that it got infected in the first place, you’ve made your home in a den of filth.”

“Yes, let’s change the subject from you wanting to mutilate my child to the state of the home I’ve struggled to build for said children.” Dad hissed and something smacked against the stone.

“They are my children too!” Draxum finally yelled, “You think I want to remove his tail? I’m not the one who let him play in disgusting waters!”

Raph sobbed, quiet and muffled beneath the blanket.

They wanted to cut his tail off?

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, sliding off the couch, whimpering when his tail slid down onto the floor.

It hurt, but he didn’t want to lose his tail.

He could fix it.

He always fixed it.

Whenever Mikey got infections they cleaned them with cold water.

He knew where to get really cold water.

He could fix his tail and come back and show Dad and Draxum and they’d stop yelling and be so proud of him for fixing the problem all alone.

Maybe they’d even give him a reward for being brave and smart.

He stumbled across the lair, heading towards the east, where the coldest water was.

He could fix this.

—

Raphael was gone.

Splinter had lost the kids before, usually while they were playing, and he’d had his fair share of heart attacks from searching for the missing turtle.

This was different.

Raphael was ill. Not like Donnie, who got sick practically every other week, but actually ill. His tail was severely infected and the fever resulting from it had him delirious. He talked in his sleep and cried more in the past day than he ever had in his little life. The sound was both grating and heartbreaking.

He didn’t understand how this happened. Or, even worse, when. As much as he was loathe to admit, Draxum’s words stung and he was overly aware of all the unclean spaces of their lair. He would have to have the boys help him clean from now on. Their little hands would be able to clean the harder to reach spaces easier.

“This way.”

Draxum held some mystic compass in his hand. They’d had to dig one of the filthy bandages out of the trash for the magic to connect to Raphael, guiding them through the sewer tunnels to find where the boy had wandered off.

He couldn’t quite tell if he was furious at his son for wandering or terrified that perhaps he was having another delirious episode induced by the fever. Perhaps it was both.

Draxum lead them down a tunnel, his leggings pulled up and cinched tight around his thighs so they wouldn’t get soaked in the frigid autumn waters. They moved as quickly as they could, only communication through directions and an occasional grab of the hand.

(He did not enjoy holding Draxum’s hand through this. It was not comforting and did not help him through his panic.)

He swore they would never find him. They had been running through the sewers for what felt like hours. Would Raphael even be alive at this point? Would they be able to revive him? Would he lose one of his children? Would he have to explain to the others why they would never see Raphael again?

“He’s here.”

Splinter’s breath stuck in his throat and he dropped Draxum’s hand, hurrying forward into the tunnel. He could smell his boy, his nose twitching as he hurried forward, almost falling onto his hands as he forced himself to keep moving, to find his baby, his little boy-

Raphael was curled in on himself, half submerged in the frigid water. His face was under the water, oh fuck, what if he’d drowned?

He grabbed him, dragging him out of the water and off to the side of the tunnel, unable to hear anything but the blood in his ears and the frantic pounding of his own heart. He checked for a pulse, for signs of life, anything to tell him that his child was alive.

Raphael coughed.

Splinter nearly sobbed.

—

Raph wasn’t allowed to play for a long time.

Dad tried to explain to the boys as best be could, but Mikey didn’t understand. Donnie got sick all the time and he was able to keep playing after a few days. Leo got hurt constantly and he never had to stop playing. Why couldn’t Raph play with them?

“Raphael is very hurt and needs to heal. Playing could make it worse. Leave him alone.”

Playing never made anything worse, though! And Raph was the best to play with because he was so big and his shell was super easy to climb and his tail was the best jump rope ever.

Leo listened to Dad, but he clearly wasn’t happy about it. Mikey had found him sitting in front of Raph’s door a few times, claiming to be “guarding” him. Mikey knew he was just waiting for an excuse to go in.

Donnie locked himself in his room. Whenever Mikey snuck in he found Donnie on his computer, looking at things with way too many words for him to care. A few times he managed to get Donnie to take a break and play with him, but that usually didn’t last long.

Mikey missed Raph.

So obviously the only logical conclusion was that he had to go see Raph.

From an outside perspective, it wasn’t actually that hard. But to Mikey it was a super dangerous stealth and infiltration mission with probably dire consequences. His obstacles: Leo and Dad. He’d have to distract them both if he wanted to get into Raph’s room.

He hurried to the kitchen, digging through the pantry until he pulled out Leo’s favorite cereal. With a mischievous giggle, he upended the box, dumping it onto the floor in a big mess, leaving the box aside before running off again to hide.

Sure enough, eventually, Mikey heard Splinter shout for Leo, sounding very upset. Leo hurried off from his spot in front of Raph’s door. Mikey dashed over, sliding in without a sound. He flapped his hands, grinning as he tiptoed over to Raph’s bed.

“Raphie?”

Raph didn’t respond.

He circled around so he could see his brother’s face, and frowned when he found he was asleep. It was the middle of the day!

“Raphie.” He pushed his hand against Raph’s nose, “Raphie, wake up.”

He grinned when his brother’s eyes finally slid open and landed on him. His pupils were HUGE, but he looked at Mikey with familiarity. He trilled, soft and sad, his hands moving slow to reach out for Mikey’s.

“What’s wrong?” Mikey climbed up onto the bed, laying down next to him, “Are you hurt?”

Raph chirped an affirmative. He wrapped his arms around Mikey, resting his head against Mikey’s plastron, churring sleepily.

“You can’t play?”

Raph shook his head.

“Oh. Can I stay and nap with you?”

He nodded.

“Okay lemme get comfy.”

They adjusted a bit, laying down together so Raph could hold onto Mikey like a big teddy bear, and Raph quickly fell back asleep.

Mikey didn’t. His mind was going way too fast, so instead he imagined cars racing on the back of Raph’s shell, humming their engine sounds as Raph snored on his chest.

He didn’t understand why Raph couldn’t play, but it was easier to accept after seeing him himself.

Mission successful!

Draxum watched Michelangelo sneak into Raphael’s room from his spot in the corner. He went completely unnoticed, glancing up from his book as the children spoke for just a moment before curling up together. Splinter would want him to chase Michelangelo off, to let Raphael rest after his amputation, but it seemed the usually overly-excited child was willing to be calm and so he saw no harm.

Plus he really didn’t want to deal with any crying.

Later he would chide Michelangelo for breaking the rules, but for now he supposed it was okay.

——

I loved writing Splinter being scared for Raph’s well-being. Dude’s just trying to keep four kids he never asked for alive and now one of them is sick and missing???? Shit fuck fuck shit oh fuck oh shit

Featuring half-decent Dad(?) Draxum.

-Monster Anon

FUCK I FORGOT TO POST THIS when i first read it SOBB

no but i fuckin !!! LOVE THIS!!! I love the way Mikey's little kid brain doesnt really understand until he sees raph SSOBBBb Raph leaving to try to fix it and cause he's scared of draxum & splinter shoutinggg, guhhhghasgdhsdf

and LEOOOO keeping GUARDDD aUAGHAUDG

#nnstuff #ask #neglected fic #teenage mutant neglected turtles #medical neglect tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #amputation tw #medical malpractice #<- i feel like thats applicable since neither of them are doctors oops #child endangerment #tmnt raph #tmnt splinter #baron draxum

[slytherinlesbians]

Whumptober 2023, Day 2: "They don't care about you."

fandom: succession | characters: roman roy (centric), shiv roy, kendall roy | ship: none | trigger warnings: mentions of child abuse, neglect, drug use | content: childhood fic, sibling relationships | word count: 1k.

Roman is bored. 

He’s been wandering around the grounds of this year’s summer house for a half hour like he’s his mother, trying to get 10,000 steps in each day. He wonders, briefly, if he should call her, but shakes his head at himself for thinking that she’d want to hear from him. If Mom had wanted them - him, Shiv and Ken - she would have tried for custody. 

The divorce was finalized when he was still away at school and no one had even bothered to fucking mention it to him. Not a shred of communication from anyone. He’d arrived back from his first year at St Andrews Military School in the early stages of age fourteen with a buzzcut, a habit of jumping at loud noises, and a 70% increase of the word ‘fuck’ in his vocabulary. 

At first he’d been thrilled to get away from home, but within hours of his first day at military school, he’d locked himself in a bathroom, stifling sobs against a hand towel so no one would hear him, desperate to come back. The new routine had stressed him out, made his chest feel tight. He was terrified to sleep for fear of yelling out in the night or pissing himself like he was a little kid again, so he became a walking zombie, functioning off of as little sleep as possible. He never flinched when he was screamed at or whacked around the head, but as soon as it happened for the first time, some masochistic sickness rose up in him where he decided the only person he wanted to hit him was his father. Which is fucking insane, because when Dad hits him he feels like he’s going to die for hours after - his chest and throat close up and he can barely breathe - but at least it’s familiar. At least it’s home. 

He’d jumped out of the car expecting to be greeted by someone at least, but no one had been at the gates. Affronted, he’d gone searching for his mother, only to meet Kendall, who was back from his first semester at college and gave him an awkward hug before explaining that Mom had finally packed up and fucked off. It stung that no one had told him, and it stung even worse that Mom hadn’t said goodbye. He resolved to find Shiv, who loved to bitch about Mom and would know all of the details due to her habit of listening at doors, and was valiantly disappointed when his twin sister shut her bedroom door in his face. 

And so it had been, for the last three days in which he’d been home: Ken doesn’t mind Roman hanging around him these days, but he listens to shitty rap and checks his computer constantly with too-bright eyes and complains about how the weed in Boston is way better than here. Shiv stays in her room or lies on the grass, sipping lemonade and reading books about politics that she barely understands. He hasn’t even seen his Dad since he got back. He’s at a conference somewhere. 

“Why’s Shiv no fun anymore?” Roman says, spinning on Kendall’s desk chair. 

“I dunno man,” Kendall says, lying on the ground and rolling a careful joint. “Once you left, she got real quiet. It was probably pretty lonely for her, being the only one around.” 

Roman shrugs. “It’s not my fault I had to go to St Fuckyou’s.” 

Kendall snorts, not looking up. “It kinda is. Maybe if you weren’t such a weirdo you’d have gotten to stay home.” 

“It’s not fair,” Roman whines. “You didn’t have to go to boarding school, Con didn’t, Shiv didn’t. It’s messed up. Dad hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Kendall says, but his voice sounds far away. “He probably just wants the best for you, or something.” 

“Yeah,” Roman says. “Or something.” He watches Kendall lick the paper and give the joint a final roll. “Hey, can I have some?” 

“Fuck no,” Kendall says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, which is longer than Roman remembers it being. “Get your own. Actually, don’t. You’re too young.” 

“Fuck you,” Roman says, but he didn’t really want it anyway. He wonders, vaguely, how old his brother had been the first time he’d done drugs. Speaking of brothers, he’s surprised Connor isn’t here. He’s always mixed up one strange new scheme or the other, but generally makes a point of spending summers with his younger siblings. It’s not that Roman’s desperate to see him or anything - his eldest brother is a bit of a freak - but it’d be nice to have something to do this summer. 

“Have you heard from Con?” he asks his sister later that afternoon. He hangs upside down on a sun lounger. She’s sitting by the pool in a new swimsuit, sipping a virgin daiquiri and reading To Kill a Mockingbird, mostly ignoring him. 

“He sent us an email,” she says, sounding bored, not looking up from her book. “Something about spending the summer building habitats for endangered snails or - some bullshit like that. Said he’s sorry he can’t see us, blah blah. No big loss. Didn’t you see it?” 

“No,” says Roman, who never gets emails, therefore hasn’t bothered to sign into his account at all in the last few months. “Do you know when dad’s coming back?”

Shiv shrugs and finally looks up at him, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes. “No.”

“Neither.” 

“So? Since when has Dad told you where he’s going and when? He doesn’t care about you.” 

“Bitch,” Roman says, pulling himself upright and sticks his tongue out at her, pretending the words don’t sting. “He doesn’t give a shit about you either.” 

“Oh, boo hoo. Mom doesn’t care, dad doesn’t care, big brothers are too busy doing drugs and saving the planet,” she says sardonically. “No one pays attention to us anymore, so we can do whatever we want. Life is so terrible.”

“You used to be more fun,” he snaps, not sure why her words are getting to him so much. 

“I’ve grown up,” is all she says, then looks back down. 

“Fuck you too,” he mutters, standing up to resume wandering around the grounds. 

He spends the summer wandering, pretending not to care that no one cares. 

Roman is bored. 

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #“they don't care about you.” #succession #fanfiction #mention of child abuse tw #child neglect tw #mention of drugs tw #roman roy #shiv roy #kendall roy #connor roy