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#past abuse (mentioned)
dovewingkinnie · 1 day
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good teacher
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thebad-lydrawn-sanses · 2 months
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Okay wait so dream had a vision of the future kinda like what shattered dream had and tried to change the future is that what happened?
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Dream: my eyelights Nightmare: the villagers are giving us a lot of stuff. it's nice. Dream: my eyelights. Nightmare: i like your new eyelights. Dream: please keep yours. Nightmare: …I'll try?
Villager: Dream, I need to talk to you. Dream: oh! is this about your dislike of my brother or your house burning down? i heard about it. that must've really sucked :) busy lately? Villager: uh- yeah. My sister was terribly injured in the fire, so we need apples for her recovery.
Villager: my mommy told me to give you this Dream: thank you, Charlie. tell your mom i said hi. Villager: it's a pie. Dream: thank you. Villager: she says your brother is a bad person and should be executed. i think i agree, 'cuz he's really scary. Dream: he's really nice. you should be nice to him. Villager: oh. okay! he's still really scary though.
Prophecy Nightmare: HEY. Dream: AAAAAA-
Villagers: "Are you okay?" "Dream, can I get an apple?" "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?" "Can I have an apple?" "Are you okay?" "Are you okay?"
Nightmare: are you gonna sleep tonight? Dream: no Nightmare: did i- do something wrong-? Dream: no Nightmare: are you okay? Dream: no Dream: yes
Prophecy Nightmare: LYING TO YOUR BRO? COLD. Dream: god damn it
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can-u-like-stop · 1 year
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There was a time when Simon broke Price’s heart every day.
It wasn’t his fault, not at all. And Price would hate it if Simon took it as such. Which is probably why Price didn’t say anything for so long.
But he saw.
He saw how Simon would immediately tense and drop what he was doing whenever Price walked in, even if he was on his off time.
He saw how Simon’s jaw clenched when he relayed bad news to Price, almost expecting a berating for something out of his hands.
(Price had growled and banged his hand on the table once, the almost imperceptible jump Simon did because of it was enough for Price to regret it)
And he saw how Simon flinched when Price went to pat him on the back. That one hurt like a bastard.
But one night, when Simon surprised him with a knock on the door to drop off some papers, Price knew he needed to do something, watching as Simon apologised and edged into the room.
“Could I say something, Simon?” Price asks before Simon can turn to leave.
Simon freezes. “Alright, sir?” He holds his hands behind his back. Attentive, obedient, anxious.
Price keeps his movements casual, not knowing how else to ease Simon’s nerves.
“I’m not your father, Simon,”
There’s a tense silence.
Simon huffs a half-hearted laugh. “I’m… aware of that, sir…”
Price shakes his head. He gets up, and reaches out to place a hand on Simon’s shoulder.
Simon tenses, but stays put.
“I mean, son…” Price says, “I’m not like your father.”
Simon’s cautiously confused gaze drops into something fragile for a second. His eyes move away from Price’s and he fiddles with his gloves.
“I know that too, sir,” he says, clearing his throat.
“Good man,” Price says, knowing he’s pushing his luck. “Go on, you’re free from paperwork for one night at least.”
“Thank you, sir,” Simon mutters and legs it out of there.
At the time, Price thought he’d fucked it all up. And maybe he did.
But now, Price swears he sees a different side of Simon. Youthful, vibrant, and free.
And his heart is made full again.
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mortysmith · 5 months
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In theory i like the idea that rick is growing and developing as a person. In practice it ends up falling short though, because no one balances him out. rick is getting better while no one else is getting worse, and it causes the whole thing to end up feeling a bit stale. The biggest draw, at least for me, has always been rick and morty's shitty dynamic, but it barely exists anymore because rick has been so watered down.
The ideal solution is literally just to make morty into a bigger asshole. Essentially flipping the main characters' personalities would offer a wide variety of conflict into the show, and would also help keep it "fresh".
Instead it feels the writers are pretending that they can't possibly do anything with morty's character, that they have to keep him the same anxious idiot he was in season one. I've said this before, but it's incredibly frustrating to watch the show have no problem with expanding rick's character while struggling with keeping morty's heavily stagnated characterization consistent. Where rick has space to develop between multiple seasons, morty is constantly forced into one of two boxes (smart/stupid) depending on the episode.
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xjulixred45x · 5 months
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If Child reader of Platonic Yandere Kenjaku meets Gojo...
Before anything, this is NOT a continuation of THIS one, that is more a scenerio of "What if", this is what i call the Route to the "True Ending" for Say something. NOW lest continue.
Also, this idea was kind of given by @kiracrzy-blog (thanks for that one Sweetie! Hope You enjoy!)
Satoru probably knew about (Child reader) even before the whole disaster, he would know that Geto had a child, but he didn't have much else, Suguru was very careful with them and their mother to prevent them from going after them (Even more if the child have inherited his cursed technique), but Satoru was definitely very curious about the child.
That's why he wouldn't know how he would interact with them if he ever met them, I mean, he LITERALLY killed their father and couldn't stop them from killing their mother, why would they want to see HIM of all people? He also had time to think about it in the containing prison.
A part of him wanted to meet them, see what they were like, were they more like Suguru or more like his mother? Were they extroverted or introverted? What was Suguru like as a father? And their mother? Did they suffer a lot when they died? Did they know that THAT THING was controlling their father's body?
Many of those answers were resolved as soon as he was released.
NOW, Gojo is much calmer and more mature than one would expect in the situation, he can see that (Child reader) has already been through a lot and he doesn't want them to be more afraid of him than they probably already are. He wants them to also get answers to their questions, so he sets up some small outings, nothing too complicated, just going to eat something somewhere safe and Satoru lets them ask them questions in exchange for the same.
Satoru was happy to hear that Suguru was a good father, that (child reader)'s mother was a good mother, that they lived a happy life...until Suguru died and Kenjaku arrived in his place.
Satoru is surprised that they (Child reader) don't resent him, but then he says something he wouldn't have expected at this point.
-"You may have killed my dad...but you were my father's only best friend...we can let things be...get over it...you mean a LOT to My father even...after all..."-
...that was so...wow, (Child reader) has power, they made the strongest sorcerer of today almost cry. He didn't think he needed to hear that SO MUCH...
although of course, not everything is so positive, Satoru has to retain all the anger he feels when hearing how Kenjaku came to treat (Child reader) using the body of their OWN FATHER and he may even have to console them, because well, it's HORRIBLE that distort the image of a person you love like this.
Satoru promises, SWEARS to (child reader) that after winning against Sukuna, he will go directly against Kenjaku and when he kills him, both will give him a dignified burial with the twins, and if the changes are in their favor, the WHOLE family of Geto. and (Child reader) feel light for the first time in God knows how long, they being with Gojo Kenjaku won't be after them. They are safe, they are not alone.
I think that in general, during the entire month of preparation that Gojo does before the battle against Sukuna, he takes advantage of every gap in his schedule to spend time with (child reader) and be a kind of "fun uncle" for them (he may even try to start a conversation with the twins, but it doesn't always work). He shares sweet things with them, tells them stories from when he and their father were young, he may even teach them a couple of useful techniques for hiding and so on.
Gojo carrying (child reader) on his shoulders while they go somewhere fun or while Gojo uses his infinity to float 🥺it would be so healthy..
Meanwhile Kenjaku is pulling his hair and biting his nails because GODDAMED! He can't get (child reader) back if they are not alone!if he get even a little close to Satoru he will kill him! And now (child reader) and Gojo are TOGHETER ALMLOST EVERY DAY!! and at the same time he is soooo jealous that (child reader) is having such a good time with Gojo. He's their DAMN FATHER (in his crazy head at least)! And (child reader) acts more as if his enemy is more worthy of their affection than HIM):< (HE IS, but he will never admit it).
The good thing is that neither Sukuna nor Uraume are interested in helping Kenjaku in this, they already dislike him, but now that he spends his time complaining about a human child and since he wants them back, it is strangely tolerable, they are not going to ruin all returning them to Kenjaku. Part of them are just happy that Kenjaku is suffering for the first time in thousands of years.
Returning to the topic, I also imagine that (Child reader) shares everything that Satoru gives or gives to Choso and the twins, shows them his new clothes, saves candy for them, tells them excitedly about his day with Gojo, etc. .
Choso is so happy to see (Child reader) FINALLY be a child their age, get excited about these kinds of things and I think he would thank Satoru directly for everything he does for them even if he knows what happened in the past ( by not fully understanding humans and partly also because of all the positive feelings that have happened to Child reader)
Mimiko and Nanako are happy for (child reader), very happy, of course, they can't completely forgive Satoru, but damn, this could be the first step to HEALING (child reader), of returning to normal once everything is over , to be a family together again... who knows... maybe Gojo can be part of it... being so important to Geto...
Gojo is fine with just being a friend to (Child reader) in the future or being part of their family, as long as he is PART OF THAT FUTURE, and that future is HAPPY AND SAFE, he is fine with that, even if they don't want to see him more.
a better world is the least they owe to being Geto's child... a world where they should not have gone through all the pain and trauma they had, where he didn't have to kill their father... he wants that ( child reader) TO BE A CHILD.
So when he loses the battle against Sukuna and sees Geto on the other side, he doesn't know what to say, how to ask for forgiveness from him.
He couldn't do it, he couldn't beat him, he couldn't keep his oath, he couldn't bury Suguru with (Child reader), he couldn't see what will happen to him...HE FAILED THEM. NOT ONLY THEM, BUT ALSO SUGURU.
He left his child at the mercy of the world (with that PSYCHO still alive!!). hell, a child that Geto himself should have been able to raise if he had had different circumstances, if Geto had been there, supporting him, along with his child, both happy, safe, alive...
well, (child reader) is.
Suguru would try to console him, it's not his fault he died after all, he gave everything he had, Sukuna plays dirty......Suguru (and his wife) are grateful that at least Satoru spent the time he did with their child, trying to make a better world for them. They are grateful to him.
and (Child reader) will not be alone. Satoru KNOWS that, he can be at Peace, al least a little knowing that.
______
(Child reader) only sees on the screens (while Choso and Nanako try to cover their eyes) the result of the battle, Sukuna has won, Satoru lost.
Kenjaku is still alive.
but nothing stay still too long. then everyone is going to fight, those from Culling Game, the students, special grades, Yuji...
Choso puts a hand on (Child reader's) head, Mimiko and Nanako prepare to fight, they know what it means, they don't know how they feel about it(they already had a LOT of emotions to deal with), but they know what they have in mind.
Kenjaku is going to die. whether he like it or not.
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obsidiancreates · 4 months
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Henry Spencer Is A Bastard (With A Broken Nose)
Shawn and Jules have been living together for two weeks when Jules storms into the precinct, grabs Lassiter by the arm, and drags him into the interrogation room.
“O’Hara, what the hell is-”
“You’ve spent time alone with Henry,” she says, sitting Lassiter in the suspect chair. “What was he like?”
“What?”
“This is important, Carlton.”
Lassiter sighs, looking around the room for a moment before answering. “Unpleasant and judgemental. He had every quality of a great cop but none of an actual person I’d spend time with.”
“Which for you is saying something,” Jules mumbles, looking to the side. “Would-would you say you think he’s capable of intentional child endangerment or neglect?”
Lassiter sits up more. “What? O’Hara, what is this about?”
Jules takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I was helping Shawn get some stuff from his old room, and we found an old journal from when he was a kid.It was mostly just doodles and half-finished homework, and he said to just throw it away, but… I kept it. I thought it was cute, to be able to look at what went through his brain as a kid.”
“O’Hara. If you’re alleging what I think-”
“I read more later while he was out with Gus and one of the pages was a failed writing assignment. He was supposed to write about what he did over the weekend and he wrote that his dad locked him a trunk and made him pretend to be kidnapped.”
Lassiter lets out a breath. “Okay. But you and I both know Spencer’s imagination-”
“Carlton, remember the kicked-out tailight? When he got shot?”
“O’Hara, I was with Henry through that whole investigation, and I don’t think I can say that the man I investigated with would purposefully hurt or neglect his son. He was like a machine through the whole thing.”
“There was more, though, Carlton. One of the assignments was to write about how they spent Easter and Shawn’s said he got cut on some glass trying to dig up his eggs. He drew a picture, it-”
She pulls out her phone and hands it to her partner. Lassiter looks at a crude drawing of a small stick figure on it’s hands and knees, overly-large shards on the ground in front of it, and an egg a good few lines below it. There’s a taller stick figure behind the small one, with a wide-open mouth and the words ‘You can do better, Shawn,’ written beside it.
The teacher’s note on the side says that Shawn needs to stop making up stories for assignments about his real life.
Lassiter hands the phone back. “O’Hara…”
Jules sits back in her chair a bit, the tension giving way to a slumped tiredness. “I know they’ve never had an… easy relationship, but Henry has always been so present, ever since we’ve known Shawn. I thought that was a good thing and Shawn’s discomfort was just Shawn being… Shawn.” She looks down at her hand in guilt. “What if I completely missed that he has reason, Carlton?”
Lassiter grabs one of Jules’s hands. “O’Hara, Henry Spencer is a bitter, unlikeable, and overbearing old man- but I really don’t think he’s capable of child abuse.”
Jules holds his hand back and gives it a squeeze. “I just… don’t know how to ask Shawn if these are real. He’s not exactly forthcoming about messy emotions and memories.”
Lassiter nods, and then blinks. “So let’s ask Guster. They’ve been stuck together like flies on a flytrap forever.”
Jules shakes her head. “If Shawn isn’t going to say anything, I really don’t think Gus will.”
“Well, you can either ask Guster if these are real, or you can worry about it forever and never get any answers.” Lassiter knows his partner well enough to know that’s unacceptable to her.
She gives his hand one more squeeze. “I’m just worried. Henry works here. He’s in charge of Shawn.”
“And I’m sure that when we talk to Guster about all this, we’ll learn that Spencer was just exaggerating like he always does.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gus reads the page with wide eyes. “Wait, he was serious about that?”
Lassiter stifles the urge to shout ‘Come on!’ when he hears Jules suck in a breath.
“You mean you knew about this already?”
“I mean, Shawn told me once that he liked Easter at my house way more because there was no ‘manhunt training’, but I thought he just meant something like when his dad would have him stakeout their porch.”
“He what?”
“It, sounds worse than it is. … I think.” Gus looks down at the old notebook again. “I thought. … I mean, Henry was always a little intense. When Shawn and I were boyscouts he used to set up challenges that were impossible to win, and then make us feel bad for not winning.”
“What do you mean, impossible to win?” Lassiter is starting to get concerned now. Shawn’s incessant need to show everyone up has been a pain in his ass for years, and if Henry reinforced that grating attitude and now acts like he tried to quell it-
“Stuff like telling us to go find a rocket in the middle of the woods and then going and grabbing it himself. He used to promise us ice cream if we won, then say he’d eat it himself if we didn’t win next time.” Gus’s face pinches the more he talks about the memories. “Gosh, I haven’t thought about that in years. I guess I didn’t realize how messed up that is until I said it out loud.”
“It’s horrible,” Jules says.
“But not criminal,” Lassiter reminds her. “And as… weird and dangerous as the eggs thing is, that’s not criminal either. … I think.”
“What about the trunk, Carlton?”
“... Yeah, that part’s looking pretty bad.”
Gus shuts the notebook. “We need to talk to Shawn about this. I don’t know if I’m even remembering right, but I know he will.”
“He’d never open up about something like this,” Jules says, gesturing to the notebook and letting her arms drop back to her sides with a flop. “He barely tells me about his childhood at all.”
“Well I was there for most of it, and I need to make sure I didn’t miss some serious abuse going down for our entire lives. Do you know how many times I’ve defended his dad to him, Juliet? … Oh my god, on that same boyscout trip with the rocket, he told me his dad had never said he loved him!”
Lassiter doesn’t need to look at Jules to know she’s probably seething with the rage of the entire underworld- if he believed in such a thing. 
Henry better hope they find out it’s not as bad as it’s seeming.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Shawn gets home, Jules, Lassiter, and Gus are all sitting on the couch looking somber. Well, Jules and Gus look somber. Lassiter looks mildly offput.
“Guys! What’s all this, are we having some kinda surprise party?” Shawn looks around for decorations, but there’s nothing. He looks back with excitement. “Is it a case? A big one?”
“Shawn, sit down, we need to ask you about something.” Jules gestures for him to take a seat on a different chair.
“Uh-oh. That’s not your happy voice.” Shawn sits down and leans forward. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”
Jules takes a deep breath, and pulls out the notebook. Shawn looks at it. “Oh, that? Please don’t tell me that my drawing skills when I was eight are a dealbreaker.”
“Shawn, did Henry…” Jules falters. Shawn’s expression… 
It doesn’t harden, per say. It just… shifts. Becomes a little closed-off.
“Spencer, did Henry actually make you dig through broken glass to find ridiculous holiday candy?” Lassiter says, offering Jules his hand for support. She takes it.
Shawn’s mouth quirks up in the corner, a huff-laugh escaping him. His eyes aren’t as amused, a dark look in them. “What? How-how’d you know about that?”
“Oh my god.” Gus looks sick.
“Guys, seriously, what is this?” Shawn reaches out and snatches the notebook, flipping through it. Fast at first, and then slower. The slight smirk disappears completely, and Jules and Gus know that habit of sticking his tongue over his teeth means Shawn is not in a good emotional space whatsoever as he reads.
He closes the notebook and tosses it onto the coffee table, sitting back into the chair and sniffling. “It’s uh- it’s nothing.”
“Dude, that is not nothing. I thought you were making that stuff up when we were kids!”
“What? Why would I make that up?” That just seems to confuse Shawn.
“Because you were always making things up!”
“Not about my dad! You were like, the one person I could talk about him with! You thought I was lying about everything the whole time?” Now he looks hurt. 
“Not everything, but crazy stuff like him locking you in a trunk in the middle of a hot day and putting broken glass over your eggs, yeah! Oh my go- this makes me look back on everything I know in a completely different light, Shawn!”
“Okay, you can’t actually be this surprised, Gus. I mean, you were at my house all the time, you know how he was. We couldn’t even play hide-and-seek without me getting a lecture about hunting perps the right way.” The bitterness in his voice is familiar to his friends, the way he keeps from meeting their eyes, the arms crossed over his chest and tense body language. It’s not that they’ve never seen him like this. But they’ve never seen him like this and truly understood it. Even Gus.
Gus, who looks increasingly horrified as he thinks back on more and more memories. “When we were really little and you told me your dad would throw you out for reading comics, were you serious?”
Shawn scoffs a little. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Did he actually ban them?”
“... Yeah. That part he did. He said they made cops look bad.”
“Good god, Spencer, you’re talking like everything in your house was about cops twenty-four-seven.”
“Gee, Lassie, I wonder why. You’ve met my dad, right?”
“But you’re talking like he expected you to be a perfect cop from the second you were born.”
Shawn goes silent. He still won’t look at any of them.
“Oh, my god.” Jules reaches out to put a hand on Shawn’s knee. “Shawn, did he expect that?”
“... Look, guys, it’s… it’s done, alright? It is what it is, and… I’ve accepted that, and I’m working on making things work with my dad. I don’t… I don’t need this. Okay? I don’t want to think about it and get all…” He huffs. “Last time I thought a little too hard about all this stuff I ended up on my motorcycle with nowhere to go, and-and I don’t want to do that again, alright?”
“Shawn, this is important. We’re all working with Henry constantly, watching how he treats you, and this changes how some of that looks.”
“How?” Shawn finally looks at Jules, right in the eyes. “How does this change anything? He’s the same person, Jules. He-he’s controlling, and-and expects way too much, and is disappointed in me. That’s not different now just because you know he went overboard with stuff when I was a kid.”
Lassiter lets out a deep breath. He’d really… really been hoping this wouldn’t be the case. “How overboard, Spencer?”
Shawn looks at Lassie, and then clicks his tongue and looks away again. “Not in that way, man. He never hit me or anything.”
“So what did he do?”
“Why is this an interrogation?” Shawn stands up, pulling away from Jules’s outstretched hand. “This is stuff for me, and my dad to hash out, okay? Just me and him.”
“Did your mom know about this stuff?” Gus asks. 
The mention of his mom seems to make Shawn shut down even more. “Now this is really over.” He walks away, and pauses for just one second to turn around and say, “Don’t- don’t go my dad about all this. I don’t want…”
“... Don’t want what, Shawn?” Jules’s voice is soft and careful.
Shawn doesn’t seem to be able to find the end of the thought. He just shakes his head and walks back out the door.
The three sit in silence for a minute. Jules has tears in her eyes. Gus looks almost shellshocked.
Lassiter stands up. “Alright, I’m officially taking lead on this case.” He looks down at his partner. “O’Hara, find out who in the precinct knew Henry well and still works there. We’ll interview anyone who he might’ve talked to his son about, see if we can dig up any leads there.”
“Whoa, Shawn just said he didn’t want his dad finding out we’re asking about all this, and we just learned he’s way worse than we thought,” Gus says, standing up too. “We can’t start poking around the precinct, because in case you forgot Lassie, he works there!”
“Part-time.”
“He’ll know something is up.”
“Please. I think I know how to run a discreet investigation, Guster.”
“Could you hide something like that from Shawn?”
“... Of course.”
“No, you couldn’t, and if you can’t hide it from Shawn it’s a safe bet that you can’t hide it from his dad.”
Jules stands up. “No, Carlton is right. None of us realized how these pieces fit together until we all talked about it with each other, right? If Shawn won’t… can’t, open up to us about it, the next best thing is getting as many witness statements as possible.”
“Why? It just feels like digging things up to dig them up at this point.”
“Because Henry is currently in charge of Spencer’s livelihood, Guster.”
“I know! He’s in charge of part of mine too!”
“Right.” Jules looks up at Lassiter. “And if we can prove to The Chief that Henry has a negative, unreliable bias against Shawn, we can lessen some of that control!”
“As much as I’d hate to see Spencer off the leash again, I’d hate to be helping enable an abuser even more,” Lassiter agrees. 
“Abuser is a strong word.” Gus doesn’t look like he feels that sentence is 100% true. “He wasn’t all bad a lot of the time. I mean, he loosened up on the comic thing when we were older.”
“We know he cares, Gus,” Jules assures. “But, caring doesn’t mean he didn’t do something wrong. Really, really wrong.”
Gus swallows, and then nods. “I know.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They collect a good few statements over the next week.
One statement claims that Shawn would play poker with some of the officers when Henry brought him to the station- why Henry was bringing a seven year old to an active police station and then not keeping an eye on him was something that went unanswered- and that Henry was obviously upset when he discovered this. Another statement corroborated the story, and added that he caught sight of Henry taking all the money Shawn made from the games and shoving it into the police donation box.
One statement was from an elderly file sorter, who claimed that Shawn was sometimes sent down to grab files for his dad and used to complain to her that henry would only buy Shawn cop car toys, and no others. When she’d asked Shawn if he wanted to be a cop when he grew up, Shawn had reportedly said quote, “Something about not getting a choice.” Other statements claimed, when this was brought up, that Shawn seemed very excited by the idea of being a cop when he grew up- until his arrest.
One statement, given by someone Lassiter vaguely remembers being rookies with back in the day, lends more credibility to the recollections of the elderly woman. The statement claimed that when the rookie would go on ride-alongs with Henry or work under him, Henry would almost always complain about Shawn. Everything from Shawn having an interest that didn’t relate to being a cop, to Shawn ‘acting like a child’ when he would have been under twelve according to the timeline, to Shawn ‘not even trying’ during a specific incident where Henry claimed Shawn forged his signature to go on a field trip and quote “hesitated for a second with his pen or something- I remember it was something really minor, and Henry couldn’t stand it. I thought it was weird that he was teaching his son how to forge signatures and then expecting the kid to never use the skill, but it wasn’t really my place to say.”
By the end of the week, Jules is steaming and Shawn hasn’t come around the precinct at all. Gus keeps dropping by, digging up old journals of his own to use as cross-references when possible. Shawn is quiet with Jules at home, like he’s waiting for something big to happen and he’s worried he could trigger it early.
It makes Jules more upset at Henry, because now her boyfriend’s emotional immaturity seems a lot less like a natural childish nature and a lot more like having genuinely never been taught how to handle anything.
No, according to the information she and Lassiter have gathered, it looks like all Henry taught Shawn was that winning is everything, being the best is non-negotiable, and Shawn was born to be a cop and anything that didn’t align with that idea just… shouldn’t be there.
“Wow.” Lassiter tosses the latest statement onto his desk. “And I thought Henry didn’t discipline Spencer enough as a kid. Some of this stuff makes it sound like Spencer grew up in a boot camp.”
“He basically did,” Jules says bitterly, reading over one of Gus’s old notebooks. “Gus wasn’t even looking for evidence of it, and these journals are full of casual, offhand observations that look worse and worse the more we know. Listen to this one. ‘Today Shawn was in a bad mood, and when I asked him why he said his dad stole his mood ring after showing him to turn the box upside-down. I said that’s cheating, and Shawn said it can’t be if his dad said to do it.’ Who the hell steals a mood ring from a kid?”
“You’re getting caught on the small stuff again, O’Hara.”
“I know, I know. I just- now that we know some of the major things, even the small stuff is making me just unbelievably angry.”
“Yeah, it’s rough to read. At least you and I wanted to be cops.”
“Right? No wonder Shawn ended up a psychic detective, how do you just do something else after being raised so specifically like that? And no wonder he-he buys EasyBake Ovens and goofs off all the time, he had it so strict as a kid…”
“Mmmmm… let’s not excuse every antic, O’Hara. A lot fo it is still just him being a jackass.”
“I won’t get into this with you again, Carlton.”
“Good, I don’t want to get into it again either. … Heads up.”
Jules closes the notebook and tucks it into a desk drawer as swiftly and inconspicuously as possible, Lassie doing the same for his file. Henry walks past them, barley sparing a glance as he makes his way somewhere else.
Jules stares daggers at him so intensely that if dropped to the ground covered with enough puncture wounds to imitate Julias Caesar, Lassiter would think it was a mild scene all things considered.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s three weeks since Jules found the notebook when Shawn rolls over in bed, puts his arm around, and mumbles “I have an eidetic memory.”
Jules puts her book down and looks at Shawn with furrowed brows. “What?”
Shawn sighs and sits up properly. “I have an eidetic memory,” he says again, “And… I don’t like looking back, because I remember everything perfectly. Which means I usually remember what I felt perfectly too, and it usually wasn’t great feelings.” He can’t look her in the eyes this time, either, but instead of the tense, protective body language of before, he’s holding a pillow close to his chest and slightly burying his face into it, almost sagging around it.
Jules starts to rub his back. She knows how hard this kind of… difficult emotional discussion, is for him. Now she even knows why- suspects why, really, because not all of it is proven in full, but still she thinks she can cout is as knowing. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“About the memory?”
“Yeah. That sounds… really difficult to deal with, Shawn. Does Gus know?”
“Yeah, he knows. I think other than my dad, and… and you, he’s the only person who knows.”
“Shawn…”
“I just, I just want you to know… that I’m not asking you to drop it for no reason,” Shawn says, “Or-or because I don’t feel like it’s important. I know it is, I do. I just…”
“Don’t want to relive a lot of it,” Jules says softly. “... Shawn, does this mean you remember everything perfectly? All the time?”
“Eh… fifty-fifty. The ADHD gets in the way sometimes.”
“... But when it doesn’t?”
“I just try not to think about a lot of it.” Shawn moves again, to look her in the eyes, He takes a deep breath, and he looks a little pained. This kind of thing is painful for him, he’s so unsure how to navigate it. “I have to keep moving forward, Jules. It’d be so… so easy to just get stuck, forever, in all the stuff stored in my head. And I’m really, really trying to, I mean that. It’s difficult, and I’m not… always great at it, but I’m trying.”
“And you’re worried we’ll set you back?”
“No! No, I… I don’t know.” Shawn lets Jules pull him close to her chest and begin running her hand through his hair. “My dad and I don’t solve stuff, Jules. We just… argue over it. I’m getting tired of it.”
“... I understand.” She kisses the top of his head. “But I don’t like him being in charge of you when you’re a grown man anymore.”
“You think I do? … But it’s making him a lot happier than he’s been in a long time.”
“You should be happy too, Shawn.”
“Hey. Hey, I am happy.” He looks up into her eyes. “Look at me right now. I’m being cradled like a sweet little baby seal by the most beautiful, badass woman in the entire world. Of course I’m happy.”
Jules laughs a little and contorts a bit to kiss him on the mouth. “I’m glad you told me that, Shawn. And I promise, I won’t ask you to relive anything else for me.”
“... But you’re not going to stop investigating my dad, are you?”
“Did you stop with mine?”
“... Fair enough.” Shawn lays his head back down, and soon enough Jules hears soft snoring from him and mumbled phrases in his sleep.
An eidetic memory. Perfect recall.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Jules goes over everything they have so far knowing Shawn has a perfect memory, it makes her angry to such a degree that she thinks it might kill her. Not literally, but it feels strong enough.
She has some of Shawn’s old report cards, some statements she got from former teachers via social media contact, and some copies of pages of one of Gus’s old journals laid out in front of her, and she sees a pattern.
Shawn didn’t do good in school. His report cards are less than average, and are packed with notes about how he doesn’t pay attention, doesn’t seem to absorb any information, and doesn’t remember anything he’s taught. The statements from the teachers describe Shawn as hyperactive, passionate about everything but his schoolwork, and having difficulty with staying observant in class.
Gus’s old journals are full of the same, but also the opposite. Shawn didn’t pay attention in school, but sometimes he could pull something the teacher said from his memory word for word without even trying, and then a few entries later Gus would mention Shawn failed a test on that exact subject. Shawn got beat up because he told a bully he memorized the pattern of answers used in the math tests, but his dad told the teacher and let Shawn know he was doing it. And most of all, Gus writes about how freaky his friend’s ability to look at people and figure them out is. How Shawn notices almost everything almost all the time, and usually makes some dramatic conclusion that isn’t right, but he still notices things and Gus can’t figure out how Shawn fingers things out.
Detective training, and an eidetic memory, and psychic visions. Jules is now pretty sure that Shawn covers up some of his deductions using his visions- he’s known enough impossible information that they can’t possibly all be deductions in disguise, but when she thinks back there’s a few times where it’s obvious in hindsight he used his abilities to cover up the fact that he’s an incredible, highly-trained detective.
Maybe she’s jumping to a conclusion, but she finds herself thinking ‘Because Henry made him hate that he can do it so well,’ as she pieces it all together.
Gus’s journals lend a lot of credit to that theory. Shawn is smart, and Gus knows it, but Shawn acts dumb sometimes and Gus doesn’t understand why, and then Gus mentions that it’s weird that Henry kept Shawn up all night before to stakeout their porch and now Shawn is tired during Little League and Henry tells him to get his head in the game because Henry is the coach.
Henry is the coach, Henry is the chaperone on the field trip, Henry is their Scout Master- he’s in charge of every part of Shawn’s life except for school. And Maddie is rarely brought up, even when Gus writes about spending all day or night or even weekend at the Spencer house. Jules hasn’t seen Shawn’s Mom since Yang almost blew her up, and she just figured that Maddie wanted to stay out of Santa Barbara after that, understandably. She’s getting a different feeling about Maddie staying away now. It seems a lack of presence was her main impression in Shawn’s life, or at least, Shawn’s life through the lens of Child Gus.
So it was basically just Henry. And her heart aches for the thought of someone being stuck in a bad marriage, basically raising a kid alone, and that kid being as hyper and curious and chaotic as Shawn. But the ache is smothered in the sense of righteous rage when she reads other entries about things like a girl throwing a ball at Shawn and missing, and an ostrich choking on the ball, and Henry dragging Shawn away. The entry goes on to say that Shawn told Gus that Henry didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t do it, even after then-superior officer Captain Connors came in and tried to vouch for Shawn.
Henry always assumed the worst. Assumes, the worst, still.
Shawn tries so hard, sometimes, with his dad, and Jules is starting to realize that Henry doesn’t put the same effort in. He tries some, she knows it, she’s seen it, but she also sees him constantly berate, put down, and insult Shawn, publicly and privately. 
Suddenly she remembers something from when Shawn went undercover on the dating show, something she’d been too upset over about Shawn being there at all to really take in in the moment.
“I’m sorry, this woman is way too good for my son. If it was me, I’d vote no.”
She doesn’t have Shawn’s memory, so without rewatching the clip she can’t be totally sure those are Henry’s exact words, but she’s certain that it’s the exact sentiment.
First of all, she takes a little offense to that for herself. But secondly and more strongly, she takes offense for Shawn. As she thinks about it she can remember the way Shawn tried to cover up the awkwardness in the clip, the way the girl on the show whispered “Is this a joke?” and the way it absolutely was not. The way Henry said that on TV, to Shawn’s face, with no hint of shame.
“O’Hara.” She looks up to see Lassiter holding a cup of coffee and a bagel for her. She takes them and Lassiter says, “There’s more steam coming out of your ears than there is that cup.”
“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just… I don’t know if I can control myself tomorrow when Henry comes back in. The more I dig into this, the more I want to just- go back in time and pick little Shawn up and take him somewhere better.”
“Well as much as we don’t like it, O’Hara, Spencer is who he is because he was raised the way he was raised.”
“I know. And I like, who Shawn is!”
“Inexplicably.”
“Carlton.”
“Mmm.”
“Anyway… I love Shawn, and who he is, all of him, but I still wish he could’ve been who he is without going through all of this. It’s not okay.”
“No. No, it’s not.” Lassiter sighs. “Look, O’Hara, put the case down for a while. At this point we’ve got enough to at least make The Chief doubt some of Henry’s intentions and judgements when it comes to Spencer and, well, that was the goal.”
“... Yeah. Yes, okay, I will… I will put this down for a few days.” Jules closes up the file and puts it back into her drawer. “Shawn is still less than happy I’m working on this, anyway. He understands why, but I know he wishes he didn’t.” He probably understands a lot of things he wishes he didn’t. Jules has had to grapple with the realization that she actually doesn’t know as much about how Shawn’s mind works as she thought she knew, and that it’s possible she’ll never know a lot of it. There’s more than just psychic visions to the mystery of his mind, and some of those mysteries are locked up with a key cast out of self-resentments and resentments of his dad.
God, she hopes she can keep up a poker face when Henry comes in.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her file is missing from her desk the next day, and so is Lassiter’s. They both know why.
They march over to Henry’s desk just as Gus comes in to collect a check, and all three end up standing over Henry as he openly and unashamedly reads through the Spencer Upbringing Case File. Gus takes a step back when he realizes that’s what’s happening, as does Lassiter.
But not because of Henry.
Jules looks murderous.
Henry purses his mouth in a frown and nods, raising up the file and then closing it and tossing it onto his desk in one smooth movement. “It’s comprehensive,” he says, like he’s grading a paper. “But it’s a bunch of biased bull.”
“Give them back.” Jule’s voice is ice-cold. 
Henry shrugs, moving his head side to side for a second, still frowning, and then says, “Nah.” He takes the files, and drops them in the trash. “I think you owe me an explanation for why the head detective and his partner are investigating the way I raised my son. Why’d Shawn put you up to this?”
“He didn’t.”
Henry scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
Jules slams one hand onto Henry’s desk. The whole bullpen goes quiet.
“I was helping Shawn get something from your house, and I found a notebook,” she says. 
“Oh, so, you found one of Shawn’s little projects where he exaggerated things to make himself look like a victim of the world?”
“I found the writings of a little kid who didn’t seem to realize at the time of writing that being locked in a hot car trunk and digging through broken glass for Easter Eggs wasn’t normal.”
Henry laughs, crossing his arms. “That’s what you have a problem with? It’s called training, detective. You went through it yourself.”
“When I was an adult, by my choice, and I sure as hell never had to dig through glass.”
“You’re really hung up on that.”
“Because it’s genuinely evil!”
Henry’s smug look melts into a scowl. “How dare you.”
“How dare I?! Do you understand how much all of this is still affecting Shawn, even right now?! He can barely talk about all of this!” “Oh, well, he sure seem capable of reminding me of it.”
“Because you did it! You’re the only other person in the entire world who understood what was done to him in the name of training because you did it!”
“Done to h- you’re overreacting, detective!”
“I, agree, what is going on out here?” Chief Vick hurries over to Henry’s desk from her own. “Detectives, there had better be a damn good reason-”
“There is, Chief.” Lassiter reaches into the trashcan and pulls out the files.
“Karen, Detective O’Hara has allowed her romantic entanglement with my son to-”
“Henry was borderline abusive during Shawn’s childhood,” Jules interrupts, facing her Chief. Chief Vick’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open, a disbelieving laugh escaping her even as she accepts the files and flips them open. “You understand what it is you’re alleging, O’Hara, and against who?”
“I do, Chief, and I think our case file speaks for itself.” All eyes are on them now. Jules doesn’t back down. “I’m well aware of my emotional ties to this case, but I assure you I’m not allowing it to cloud my judgment. If I was, I wouldn’t have used the word borderline to describe the conclusions I’ve come to.”
“Karen, this is ridiculous.”
But Chief Vick is focused on the files in her hands. Her eyes flick up to Henry. “Is it?” She looks over to Gus, who’s been watching with the quiet tension of a prey animal waiting to make a run for it. “Mister Guster, can you genuinely testify to the validity and accuracy of the claims in these files?”
“Oh, um, well, most of those are from my own journals.” Gus’s eyes flick between Henry and Jules. “I’d say that’s even more reliable than just plain memory.”
“It certainly is.” Chief Vick turns her eyes back to the file. “Henry, I think after I’m done going through these we’re going to have a chat about some of your current responsibilities and extent of authority over consultants.”
“Oh, come on, Karen!” Henry looks around at the entire precinct staring, and judging. “This is completely unfounded, and-and blown way out of propor-!”
Henry doesn’t finish the sentence because Juliet O’Hara punches him in the nose.
There’s gasps from everyone in the room. Jules’s fist is bloodied. Henry’s nose went CRUNCH! when her fist made contact.For a long moment it’s like the whole room has collectively stopped breathing. 
“I don’t make unfounded accusations, Henry,” Jules breathes. “Especially not when I have been building a case for over a month, and have watched Shawn completely close off whenever I asked him about this.”
Henry holds his nose, looking at Jules with fear that Lassiter and Gus don’t think is nearly intense enough. “Juliet,” Henry pants, blood streaming out from between his fingers. “This is insane.”
“Quiet, Spencer.” Lassiter moves Jules a little farther away. Her fist is still raised. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting my partner, especially not in the same way you do your son.”
“What?! You can’t believe all this too, Lassiter.”
“You know I’m not Shawn’s biggest fan, but if you think what O’Hara has done over the last month is anything less than the best damn investigation possible then I have to seriously reconsider some of our shared opinions of your son’s work.”
Gus glances at a box of tissues on Henry’s desk- and then subtly moves to knock them on the floor and kicks them away.
“Herny, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the precinct for a few days while this gets handled. O’Hara, I’m going to need to speak with you in my office.”
Jules lowers her fist, and nods. She knows she can’t just punch Henry and get away with it scot-free, and she accepts that.
No-one moves to help Henry. Not a single soul. He grumbles as he makes his way past Gus to grab a different box of tissues.
“It’s like he just sucks the respect out of people,” Henry grumbles. 
CRACK!
No-one is more surprised than Gus when his fist slams into Henry’s jaw. Gus reels away immediately, shrinking and cradling his hand, as Henry goes down.
“Mister Guster!” Chief Vick moves forward to try and catch Henry.
“Uuuuh!” Guss whines, shaking his hand. “I-I mean, you don’t get to say that about Shawn! He asked us not to keep doing this! You gotta stop assuming the worst of him all the time!”
“When he earns it!” Henry barks out, then groans and spits. It’s mostly blood.
“You won’t let him earn it!” Jules is furious again. “How many killers does he have to catch for you to see that your son is an amazing man?!”
“It’s not about catching killers,” Henry says, spitting again. “It’s about growing up.”
“Says the grown man who can’t even tell his son ‘I love you’.”
“He doesn’t say it either.”
“That’s not helping your case, Spencer.” Lassiter has his eyes on Jules and Gus. “And considering I’m the only one on said case who hasn’t taken a shot at you yet, I’d say keep your mouth shut.”
“Oh, what do you know.” Henry spits a third time. The Chief looks about ready to punch him herself. “Father-son relationships are complicated, especially when the father wants what’s best for the son and the son just wants to throw everything away and get himself killed!”
“You wanted him to be a cop, Spencer, you didn’t exactly put him on a path to a peaceful and easy life.”
“I put him on the right path, and he never appreciated it, and that is what your case file should say!”
“You know what, Spencer?” Lassiter takes a step closer to the bleeding man. “I’ve put up with a lot of crap from both you and your son over the years, and you two are a lot more similar than you think. But one thing I can say that Shawn has over you is that he doesn’t mean it when he says stupid crap like that.”
“He looks up to you, you ass,” Jules adds. “And he is willing to put aside all of the things you say and do to him to have a good relationship with you. Do you understand how incredible that is? That you don’t even have to work to have him in your life? That he comes to you no matter how many times you tear into him for it?”
“He comes to me because he never listens when he needs to.” Henry’s face is starting to become very purple as the bruises set in. “I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but he needs, my help.”
“Exactly! And he feels like you’re reliable enough to give it to him, and you do! So why do you treat that as though it’s a fault? Do you have any idea what I would have given as a kid, and even now, to be able to just-just go up to my dad and say ‘I need help,’ and have him be there to help me? That means the world!”
“Not to Shawn.” Henry looks pained beyond just the broken nose and possible broken jaw. “The kid is too focused on himself.”
“You don’t know your son at all, then.” Jules turns and walks with The Chief to her office.
Gus shakes his head, grabs the check out of Henry’s paperwork pile, checks that it’s signed, and leaves. 
“Oh, really? It’s up to me to take him to the hospital?” Lassiter looks around and then huffs. “Alright, Spencer. Don’t bleed on my seats, or my dashboard, or anything but yourself.”
“I’m not a bad father,” Henry says, still holding his nose. “I care about my son.”
“Yeah, and somehow Shawn knows that even though you act the way you do.” Lassie buckles Henry in for him so that the nose remains pinched. “But here’s the thing, Spencer. Your son is an arrogant, attention-hogging, impulsive, completely absurd person, and he didn’t just become like that out of a vacuum.”
“Yes he did. I did everything I could. I did everything right as much as possible.”
Lassiter sighs as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You seriously think that? You’d be okay with your grandkid being raised that way?”
“If they had Shawn’s potential, yes.”
“... Dammit.” Lassiter turns to Henry, and punches him in the gut. Henry coughs, and then chokes on his own blood, and then coughs again.
“What the hell?!” Henry gets out between hacks.
“O’Hara would’ve done it. I feel like I owed it to her. … And honestly, Spencer, after compiling that damn case, I’ve been wanting to do it for myself anyway. I already knew you were an overbearing perfectionist with a control issue, but you wishing your son was more like that than he is is even worse.”
“Shawn’s no perfectionist,” Henry wheezes. 
“But he is overbearing with a control issue more often than not. Like I said inside, you two are a lot more similar than you think, and frankly I blame you for the parts of Shawn that go past mild annoyance and into infuriating obstacle.”
“I’d never just hand a collar over to save someone’s ego,” Henry coughs out.
“See, that’s where I wish Shawn wasn’t like you.”
“He’s handed you a collar twice.”
“What? He has not.”
And Henry must be a little delirious from the repeated blows, because Lassiter is pretty sure his next words of “See, this is why Shawn should’ve been head detective,” wouldn’t come out of him otherwise.
Lassiter grips the steering wheel tighter and makes a sharp turn into the hospital parking lot. “Well he’s not, and from the sound of things he never would’ve been anyway.”
“He could’ve been a perfect cop.”
“He’d have been miserable and you know it.”
“He’d be doing things right.”
“You’re hopeless.” Lassiter isn’t any gentler helping Henry out of the car than he was helping him in. “I’m not picking you back up when they’re done with you.”
“I’ll call Shawn.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” And Shawn will come, and probably be mad on his dad’s behalf, and will definitely be mad at all three of the punchers, because he loves his dad enough to overlook years and years of mistreatment that most people would probably consider ground for cutting contact. “And Spencer? If you ever insult O’Hara’s work again, or say anything that gets her that angry, I will help her cover up your disappearance.”
“You don’t mean that,” Henry scoffs.
“Try me.” Lassiter gets back in his car. “And if I hear from her that you’re still badmouthing your son to his face, I’ll make you disappear myself.”
And then he drives away. 
And Henry walks into the hospital alone.
96 notes · View notes
charliemwrites · 5 months
Note
(if this topic is uncomfortable pls ignore!!)
How would Simon react/adapt if he found out feral had an abusive s/o or family in the past? If he didn't know already. Maybe it was a contributing factor to him taking her?
I’m alright with this topic for the most part, but thank you for being thoughtful. I’ll put my answer below the cut just for safety but there will not be any explicit discussion.
Abusive people in Feral’s past would absolutely be a deciding factor in taking her away to keep her safe. Especially if those people are still in Feral’s life, bothering her, when he’s ready to rescue her.
As far as handling her goes though, I think the au is set up really well for him to accommodate a survivor of abuse/DV. He’s always patient and gentle and understanding, never raises his voice or loses his temper, and lets her initiate most physical contact and all spicy times.
He would be much more aware of her triggers though. Would meticulously learn and catalogue each one. If it’s something she wanted to work on desensitizing to, he’d help, but fret over it constantly and keep her from pushing herself too fast. When she’s triggered he absolutely gives her all the space she needs to hide away or calm down and waits for her to seek him out again.
The fact that she is so feral is a huge victory! She’s comfortable acting out and reacting without fear of retaliation.
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doe-eyed-fool · 24 days
Text
Fallen {Chapter Twenty Two}
Alastor x (fem)Reader
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Warning(s): Mentions Of Past Abuse, Abusive Ex, Confrontation, Drug Overdose Mention
Knocking at my door caused me to stir out of my sleep, I groan and sit up in bed. "Yes?" I call. "Morning, Y/n! Hurry can get dress please. We have a new guest staying at the hotel!" I could hear Charlie from the other side of my door, voice filled with excitement.
I raise an eyebrow. A new guest? Huh...Well, alright. I tell her I'll be down in a second before getting dressed. I leave my room and make my way through the halls. Angel had caught up with me, and joined me on the way down.
"What do you think of the new guest?" I ask him as we step into the elevator. He shrugs. "No idea, haven't met em' yet. But, I hope it's a new hottie." He says with a smirk, I laugh lightly.
We get out of the elevator after a few seconds and walk into the lobby. Everyone was gather to greet the new sinner looking for redemption. I didn't get a good look at them, as they were being blocked by Charlie. Who, by the way, was over the moon to see them.
"Alright, who's the new guy?" Angel asks, crossing his arms. Charlie looks back at us with a wide smile. "Guys, I want you to meet Liam, our newest addition to the hotel! Yay!" She cheers as she steps aside, given us a better view of him.
Liam was a average sized wolf demon, his jet black fur looked an almost deep blue under the lights of the hotel, his red eyes scanned the room, ears flicking slightly. When his eyes landed on me, he grinned. But, for some reason...
His grin was not a friendly one.
I furrow my eyes in confusion, and then, he spoke.
"Thanks for having me. It's a pleasure to be here."
My heart sank into the pit of my stomach.
That voice...I may have lost a bit of my memory, but I could never forget that voice. The voice that one minute, would be so loud it'd send me into a frozen shock.
Then the next, be so soothing and loving, that it'd make me forgive everything he's done for a while. I could never forget. Never ever forget that voice, his voice.
Angel seemed to be the only one who noticed my distress, he placed a hand on my shoulder. Only to take it away when I flinched under his touch. "Y/n?" He says quietly, voice filled with concern. I open my mouth to speak, but I couldn't find the words.
There was nothing I could say, even if I wanted to. My mind raced, everything became so loud so fast. My heart was beating like crazy, and I felt sick. "Y/n-" Angel didn't get my name out before I took off back to my room.
He watched me for a second before turning back to look at Liam, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 'Something ain't right...' He thought.
And he wasn't the only one who thought it. Alastor had thought anyone who'd come to this hotel for redemption, wasn't all the way there in the head. But...Liam seemed to be a whole new case. But, he kept his false welcoming persona as he spoke to Liam.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, my good man. But, I have important matters to attend to, so, you'll have to excuse me." Alastor says to him. Liam nods. "Sure thing." Alastor excuses himself from the group and walks away. Angel said nothing as he passed him by, but secretly hoped Alastor could help...
I paced in my room, arms clutched and wrapped around my body in a weak attempt of comfort. What the hell was going on!? Why was he here!? I mean, I'm not surprised he went to hell, but. Why here of all places!? Tears pooled in my eyes, my heart beating so fast it hurt. What am I going to do now?
I let out a sharp gasp as my door was open, I quickly turned to see Alastor. A wave a of relief washed over me at the sigh of him. "Alastor..." My voice cracked.
Alastor shut the door behind him and approached me, he didn't touch me right away, which I was grateful for. For now at least. "I take it, that was your ex?" He asked gently. I nod my head, tears streaming down my face. "W-What is he doing here? How the fuck did he find me?" I sob.
"I'm wondering the same thing." Alastor muttered. "Y/n, just give me the word, I'll go down there right now and have him taken care of."
"No!" I quickly say. "N-No...I...I don't want anyone to know by drawing attention."
"I can do it discreetly, it'll look like a bloody accident." Alastor tells me. "But...Charlie was so happy that there's someone new." I sigh. "Does that matter? Out there in that lobby is the reason your life was misery and why it was cut short." Said Alastor, almost in disbelief that I wouldn't let him get rid of that man.
"It doesn't...But, I think..." I exhale shakily. "I think I need to say my peace before I agree to anything." Alastor raises an eyebrow. "You want to speak to him?" He asks.
I nod my head. "There is so much I want to say to him...I want him to answer for all the pain he's caused me." Alastor was silent for a moment before speaking. "If that's what you want." He says softly. "Would you like me to come with you?"
"I think I should do this on my own. I might not get the answers I want, if it's not just the two of us." I tell him. "If you insist...But, the moment you feel that you're unsafe, just call for me. I will hear you." Alastor says firmly. "Understand?"
"I will, I promise."
Hours later, after Liam had gotten accustomed to the hotel, and when I was sure he'd be alone, was when I decided to finally speak with him. Wave after wave of anxiety washed over me, though I tried to stay calm. It would do me no good to run away. I've endured so much of his shit for so long, he will answer for it.
I will say what needs to be said, what should have been said a very long time ago. I found him right outside of the hotel, cigarette in hand. A puff of smoke left his lips, along with a deep exhale. His ears flickered towards my direction as I closed the hotel doors behind me.
He turned, and another rush of anxiety shot through me. "Hey there." He greets me. "Liam, can we speak?" Liam stares at me for a moment. "Do I know you?" He asks with a grin. "You do." I mutter. "I may not look like I use to, but I'm still the same. And I know it's you under that new form as well. Let's not pretend."
Liam's grin remained the same. "Yeah. I figured it was you, based on your reaction when you first saw me." He says before taking another drag.
He exhaled the smoke and casually asks me. "How have you been?" I clench my fists tightly at my side. "I'm surprised to see you here." He continues. "You were always so nice. What did you do? Hm? You do some terrible things I didn't know about or something?"
"Why did you do it?" I ask, ignoring his questions. "Hm? Do what?" He asks. "Don't act like you don't know! Why!? How could you do that to me!?" My emotions began to take over. And his stupid fucking grin was only upsetting me further.
Liam flicks the cigarette away before taking a step towards me. "I was good to you." I kept on. "I tried to be a good girlfriend, a good fiancé. I would have been a good wife. But you...all you've ever done was hurt me. You never appreciated me, you lied to me, you made me feel like less than a person. And for what? I would blame myself, but I've done nothing wrong. I stayed with you because it meant so much to my family, as well as yours. I did it for their sake, but most of all, I did it for you."
I continue. "I know how your family was. They were so insistent that we marry, or else you'd get the shit end of the stick for it. And I loved you...so why wouldn't I agree?"
"Why Liam? Just why?" Tears filled my eyes. "Why did you kill me?"
Liam was but a step away from me. "I didn't want to kill you." He starts. "You know how much shit, I went through because you died? My parents had to pull so many strings, get through to the right people, just to make sure no one found out. They hated me for it...Said I was a fucking disappointment. Didn't want me to get the shit end of the stick, huh? If only you didn't fucking mouth off to me that day. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten so angry. But you always had to test me, even now...you don't know when to quit."
"You have no one to blame but yourself Liam." I said firmly. "I didn't make you push me down those stairs. God, I feel so stupid. I don't know why I couldn't see it sooner. You were a bad person then, and I see nothing has changed now. Liam, I wanted to stay with you because I really did love you. At one point I did. I wish things could have been different, but, I see now that we were doomed from the start. I can't help you, I don't know how to, and I can't suffer by trying. I wish I were brave enough to say all this while I was still alive. But better late than never, I guess."
I turn to leave. "That's all I wanted to say. I don't think you're serious about this hotel, so I don't expect you to stay long. But while you're here...I hope you'll stay away from me. Because, I want nothing to do with you ever again."
"I don't think you really understand, Y/n."
I stop walking. "You ruined my life when you died. My parents pretty much disowned me. Cut me off, and I was left on my own. I struggled to keep employment, I turned to drugs, and I eventually died trying to forget that fucking night when you died. It's your fault you died, it's your fault I became an addict, and it's your fault I died. I'm suffering, and I will continue to suffer forever, because of you!"
I couldn't believe what he was saying. I was right, he really isn't capable of change. I turn to give him a piece of my mind, but it was then in that moment, he lunged at me...
And everything went dark...
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nerdpoe · 9 months
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In the Shadow of Speculation Part 2
Part 1, Ao3
Heavy chapter, please heed the following; Blood tw vivisection tw descriptions of a flashback descriptions of a night terror descriptions of recovery abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way)
Danny took a deep breath and used the Ring of Rage.
A glowing portal formed in the air before him, perfectly stable. Cold, bitter wind blew through it, along with the smell of antiseptic.
Wrinkling his nose, Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.
“Oh, greetings Mr. High King! Are you ready for your check-up?” a nurse Yeti said, looking up from her clipboard enthusiastically.
Danny attempted a smile.
“I’m prepared for it, yeah.”
“Wonderful! Your friends are already in the room for moral support!”
Danny paused.
“Who-?”
“The Lady of the Green and the Lord of Innovation, of course!”
Oh thank the Ancients.
Danny nodded his thanks at the nurse and started for his assigned rooms.
Every inch of the hallways, unfamiliar before the Accident, were ingrained in his memories now.
He’d finally walked from his door to that window without help four months after waking up, and he’d been so fucking proud about it too. He’d hid behind that potted plant during his first flashback. He’d climbed out of that window and crawled on the roof just so he could feel the snow on his skin two months into Physical Therapy.
That was the yeti that had taken the brunt of his anger and hurt on his worst days, nodding at him as Danny passed. That was the room he’d pleaded with Dan to take him away from the hospital, that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he just wanted to go home-that was also the room Dan had set his foot down and said that he’d play the bad guy for Danny one last time.
And oh, how Danny had despised him for it.
But it had worked. Danny, with someone who was there for the sole purpose of taking the verbal assaults meant for his Physical Therapists and himself, who was only there to snipe back and deliberately egg Danny on, helped Danny find the energy to push forward.
And Danny still felt awful about that.
Danny passed the table he had eaten his first solid meal at, one month after waking up, and took a left.
There it was.
The door to the rooms that had been his sanctuary and his prison, right up until they hadn’t been needed anymore. The first place he’d seen when he’d woken up, and then been amazed that he’d woken up at all.
With a deep breath, Danny pushed it open.
“Hey man!”
“Danny!”
Danny’s smile was weak, and he was holding back tears in the face of so many memories he hated and adored in equal measure.
“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”
~~~~~~
Dan knew he was asleep. Dan knew he was awake. Dan knew he was somewhere in that awful inbetween.
He was in his parents basement. No, wait. They weren’t his parents. They’d never deserved the title.
He was in the Fenton’s basement.
The world kept glitching out, the colors kept melding together, and the only thing that stood out was the overwhelming feeling of disbelief and terror.
Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was-
Stop.
Assess.
What was going on?
Little him was strapped to a table; he was locked in place. He was in his Core form. It was…damaged. It was damaged.
Why?
Who would…?
There was a sliver missing. They’d torn a piece of him off. They’d tried to peel him open. They’d-Little him would be crippled.
If he survived.
But he had survived, hadn’t he?
Little him’s core was strapped to a table, damaged, and there was no resonance coming from it. There were vials upon vials of ecto-blood on the tables.
That was a kidney.
That was a stomach.
There was blood on the floor.
There…there was blood on his shoes.
Dan floated off of it, listening to the dripping sounds it made as it rolled off his soles.
The door opened.
Two monsters walked through, all giant bug eyes and sharp metal knives.
Dan had two options.
He could kill the things that had done this.
Or.
He darted forward to break the straps and shoved Little him’s core next to his own, where it would be safe, where it could recover as it leeched his excess energy off of him.
The world glitched again.
Dan was standing in Jazz’s living room, hand digging into his own chest. Searching.
With a shaking breath, he pulled it out.
He’d only carried Danny’s core next to his own for two years, but he still found himself searching for it in moments of weakness.
He hadn’t been the best Spirit to host Danny’s core, but he’d fought tooth and nail to do it. Vengeance Spirits could not normally house Protective Spirits.
It was why he’d done the whole hero thing after; it would help Little him heal if he did. And when he scared the people he was saving away?
He’d opted to train the little fledgling heroes. He’d make sure they grew up safe, protected from actual villains and, if needed, their own personal ones.
Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see another kid so close to completely shattering into Nothing, he never wanted to see that shit again-
Dan forced himself to move away from the couch and towards the kitchen.
It was pointless to dwell on the past. He did everything he could; if the Twerp wanted to be next to those monsters, that was on him.
So what if he’d fucked up their relationship? At least the kid was alive.
Dan’s hands still shook as he made himself a cup of coffee.
Maybe he’d just check in. Just for a bit.
~~~~~~
Dan may have failed steps one through ten.
It had probably started when he’d played surrogate for the Runt, if he was completely honest. There was no way Dan hadn’t absorbed a little bit of his Protective nature.
Point was; Dan genuinely could not remember going to Arkham.
He just sort of…came back to himself while floating ominously above it.
He could see the alarm lights flashing below him. The humans running for their battle-stations.
The inmates being herded deeper into the complex.
Dan felt his eyes grow hotter, felt his claws dig into the flesh of his palms.
They were right there. Right fucking there. All he had to do was phase through the compound and just reach into their chests.
It would be so. Fucking. Easy.
In fact, he even caught a glimpse of Maddie through one of the windows.
Dan snarled, lifting a hand, the ectoplasm pooling in it hotter than anything he’d made before-
-and he was in the kitchen. Mom was trying to make hot dogs, but they kept fighting back. She was laughing at a dumb meme he’d shown her. His homework was covered in mustard from the fight with their food.
“I guess you can tell Mr. Lancer that you ‘mustard’ up every resource you had!” Dad called out as he walked by, and Dan felt so loved-
-Dan dropped the hand.
Maddie was hauled past the window and to safety.
Fuck.
Fuck this place.
Fuck this city.
Fuck everything about this situation.
~~~~~~
Batman grappled his way to the tallest watchtower in Arkham, keeping an eye on Phantom the entire time.
The guard that was already in the tower-a new hire, if he recalled-nervously stepped up to fall in line beside him.
Batman waved him off.
He knew Phantom. He knew that the man wasn’t actually a villain.
A Training Villain wasn’t something Batman had seen younger heroes needing, but when the Ghost in front of him had started play-fighting with the younger heroes to teach them through safe combat, the Bat had been mentally kicking himself.
It was a perfect job to train younger heroes, and Batman couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed the previous iterations by not realizing that.
Robin was still angry that he’d fallen for it, of course he was, but Batman could not deny that Phantom’s strange method of training had been instrumental in helping his youngest work through his rage.
Just like he could not deny that he and Phantom had something in common with Arkham.
It wasn’t hard to assume that the walls held a person responsible for the death of someone in the man’s life.
Phantom had only shown up to Arkham a total of three times.
The first time, he’d just hovered outside of it, holding his hand to his chest. He’d done nothing, and left in an hour.
The second time, two years later, he’d broken two walls and shattered a watchtower, screaming for someone to come out and face him. Robin had been on scene before Batman had time to distract him, convinced it was the same Phantom he was used to dealing with.
Surprisingly, the sight of Robin had been enough to still the beast Phantom had become. He’d toned down, forced Robin into a surprise hug, and then disappeared. Robin had been livid, but Batman had learned something about the Training Villain he didn’t think he wanted to know.
The man knew loss, and Batman was pretty sure he knew it on the same scale Bruce did.
From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out the most likely objects of his wrath.
Phantom was a Ghost. Ghosts had a very, very bad history with the American Government. The Anti-ecto acts had just been revealed to the public by Lois Lane, and the country was tearing itself apart.
The people who had been the most avid supporters had been, currently were, the Dr.s Fenton.
Who were housed in Arkham.
Batman had said nothing. He had gone back to the cave and quietly updated Phantom’s file, and left it at that.
The third time was the present.
Phantom had almost lost his temper. Almost.
But he’d reigned it in.
“Phantom,” Batman started, staring at the figure above him, “I know you can hear me. What’s happened?”
The Ghost stayed where he was for one hundred and twenty seconds, before slowly gliding down to the Bat.
Phantom did not say anything.
He did not have to.
His eyes were anywhere, everywhere, but where he actually was. When he actually was.
Batman quietly hissed through his teeth.
Alright then.
“I’m here if you want to talk, otherwise we can be silent. Just know that at this moment, you are not alone.”
Phantom chose silence for a good seventeen minutes.
Then Phantom opened his mouth.
“I should hate them,” the voice was halting, tired, “I should, I really should. They loved me so much, but they…they tore him apar-“ Phantom’s voice failed him.
Batman said nothing, and gave the Ghost time to collect himself.
While he waited, he compartmentalized what he’d learned. The Fentons had torn apart someone very, very important to Phantom.
And Bruce had an awful feeling that he meant that literally.
“I can’t be here,” Phantom said instead of finishing his previous thought.
Batman nodded.
“You didn’t hurt anyone this time, so go; I see no reason to stop you.”
Phantom didn’t grace Batman with a goodbye, but the Bat swore he felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder after the Ghost vanished from sight.
~~~~~~
Danny laid on the examination bed, one hand being held by Sam while Tucker lounged on the bed at Danny’s feet. They were talking about their new companies, how the world was changing, and distracted Danny while Frostbite examined his vivisection scarring.
Danny looked everywhere but Frostbite as the yeti pushed and prodded. He didn’t want to look at his chest if he didn’t have to, but he also didn’t want the embarrassment that was accidentally meeting his doctor’s eyes in the middle of a physical.
“Fantastic news, Young Savior,” Frostbite said, interrupting their idle chatter, “Your core, while still healing, is recovering at a phenomenal rate. Truly, Lady Gotham is good on her word! At this pace, your core should be fully healed in a mere century!”
Danny hated that. He hated that it needed to heal, and he hated that he was going to outlive his friends.
Sam and Tucker leaned a little closer, offering comfort for something that they knew the Ancient before them wouldn’t understand.
“Better news, the physical damage appears to be almost completely healed. The regrown kidney and stomach are showing no signs of failing, and the scarring should be the only nuisance. I recommend the afore-mentioned stretches and lotion to help the scar tissue conform with your movements.”
Danny nodded, sitting up as Frostbite stepped back and removed his hand from inside Danny’s torso.
“I also see no issue with your residual limb, although it does appear you’ve been forgetting to remove the prosthetic often enough to cause some light bruising. Can’t say I don’t understand, but perhaps write a reminder and pin it on your bedroom wall.”
Danny avoided Sam’s flat look.
Tucker just flashed his phone screen at Danny, the words ‘I can make you something really cool with rockets it you let me’ sprawled across the screen.
Danny absorbed Sam’s flat look and mirrored it towards Tucker.
Tucker threw up his hands.
“Ancients forbid I do anything, I guess,” the techie sighed dramatically.
Once Danny pulled himself together and got ready to leave, Tucker threaded an arm around his own.
“So, wanna go ding-dong-ditch Walker?”
Danny paused, then grinned; and for the first time in two weeks, it wasn’t a lie.
~~~~~~
Danny waved back at Sam and Tucker as they went through their own portals. They would definitely have to get together and hit the town on Earth.
Danny walked through his own portal and ran face-first into a mass of muscle.
Dan steadied him as he bounced back.
Danny was immediately hit with conflicting, very confusing emotions.
He was looking at Dan, his enemy. He was looking at his father? No, it was Dan. Wasn’t that the same-?
Danny shook his head. He’d never gotten a straight answer about why his Ghost self’s view on Dan had changed so dramatically; everyone always shied away from the question.
“Can I ask what you’re doing in my apartment?” He asked instead, stepping back and closing the portal.
“Just making sure you’re settling in, Tiny.”
“We’re the same height?”
“Nah, we’re not.”
Danny shoved the absurdity of their interaction in the back of his head and made for his couch.
“Well, whatever you’re doing here, here’s to hoping it involved making dinner,” he groaned, sinking into the cushion and pulling up his left leg to start the tediously cumbersome process of pulling it off, “because per the doctor, I’m supposed to keep the prosthetic off for the rest of today.”
“I was gonna order out. Move, we’re watching Sailor Moon.”
Danny whined pitifully when Dan physically picked him up and moved him to the side.
He fought his instincts, and his instincts won.
He leaned back and allowed Dan to take the prosthetic off, clawed fingers delicate for all that the man snarled under his breath.
He also allowed the man to commandeer the TV; not something he would even allow Jazz to do.
“Why do I let you do these things?” Danny muttered, eyeballing the quasi-villain on his couch as said villain massaged the stump just below his knee.
Dan snorted.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“Ugh, no one tells me anything.”
“We’re pacing you,” Dan corrected, blunt for all that the words were careful, “when you’re back on your feet, you’ll get the non-vital details we skimmed.”
Danny didn’t bother arguing; he’d already tried for the better part of the previous year. For some reason, the yetis took Dan’s side, too.
Instead, they fell into a companionable silence, appreciating Sailor Moon. Which was fine by Danny, since he never knew how to behave around Dan. It was only interrupted by the delivery of the Greek food Dan had ordered out.
Danny was on his second Gyro when Dan finally broke the silence.
“So I heard there was a rogue attack outside your apartment,” he said idly, and Danny could feel his eyes on him.
“Yeah.”
“So you got to see the Bats in action?”
“…Yeah.”
Dan leaned in, eyes going critical.
“What needs improvement? Don’t lie; that ‘yeah’ was one that means you weren’t impressed.”
Danny shrugged.
“I dunno, just…they didn’t have someone who’s only job it was was to evacuate the people, or help the injured. It was just offense, no defense.”
Dan snorted and leaned away.
“Kept telling that to Robin, but no; ‘Father this’ and ‘Father that’.” Dan shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on his rack of lamb. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”
Danny blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve seen what they need, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of the game forever. What are you gonna do about it?”
Danny looked down at his Gyro, frowning.
What was he gonna do about it?
He couldn’t fight, not like he used to, not really. But if the Bats were tanking, then…he probably wouldn’t really have to.
“I’ve been in medical facilities for almost a year,” Danny said slowly, ignoring how Dan stiffened next to him, “I think I’ve picked up a few things. Frostbite would probably be thrilled if I asked him to teach me, honestly.”
Dan relaxed, humming thoughtfully around the bone he was chewing on.
“I think…I’ll be a medic.”
@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix I do not suffer PTSD, and I've never had a life-altering injury. That said, I know people who have, for both of those. I apologize if my descriptions are off. Here's some notes to piece together what this chapter outlines, for those that want the sparknotes as to what Dan is alluding to. From my notes; "Ghosts can carry another ghosts core if that core is injured, to protect and promote healing. Typically, the father or mother figure does it. In this particular instance, Dan did it. We will see in a bit, but for Dan their relationship went from enemies-warden-person I gotta apologize to-person I’ve got to save-the core housed next to mine-son. For Danny, it randomly went from enemies to ‘why do I think dan is my dad more than I think my dad is my dad’." This is where the "forced parenthood" tw comes into play, because Dan felt like he had to do it, and due to instinct Danny subconsciously got dragged along for the ride. Also, if it wasn't clear from the age list on the first chapter and the timeline presented, I'm playing around with Lian and Roy's timeline; Dan's first year he babysat her, and then she died. She came back only four weeks prior to Danny re-entering the human world.
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sharptoothed-gaze · 2 months
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Hello fandom. I understand that very few of you will care about my personal opinion, and that's fine, but I find it important enough to how I run my blog to share anyway.
In the future, all of my posts will simply be avoiding any mention of Wilbur wherever possible. His character is a major part of Tallulah's story, but I will be keeping him away from my blog as much as I can.
Typically, I would go with a "death of the author" approach and keep mentions of the character and cc more separate. However, the cc's alleged quest for money and fame changes that entirely. I will not be contributing to that. That's just my personal choice, so there should be no shame to anyone who chooses to separate the two, obviously.
I watched Shubble's video and I saw his response. In my opinion, it was terrible. The way he centralized his own "growth," minimized the pain he caused, and left the actual apology on the second page is revealing. His statement reminds me of some of the past emotional abuse I've experienced, so his content will no longer be welcome on my blog. I believe in the merit of archiving, so I will not be deleting any past posts, but he will no longer have any place in my death family related tags.
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andtheyreonfire · 3 months
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goro akechi has been dead for 7 slutty, slutty years
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thebad-lydrawn-sanses · 2 months
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Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dream: at least come out and talk to me
Villager: you need to stop talking to your brother. Prophecy Nightmare: WHAT? Dream: …excuse you? Villager: See? There's your attitude. Prophecy Nightmare: I Prophecy Nightmare: . . . Villager: He's corrupting you with his demonic powers. Prophecy Nightmare: KILL THIS MAN.
Prophecy Nightmare: HEY Dream: DON'T EVEN START.
Villager: his skull broke! can you believe that? all i did was throw his book at him and it CRACKED! like an egg! Dream: ??
Nightmare: uh. m Nightmare: hi! brother. i Nightmare: i fell out of the tree. again Nightmare: sorry Dream: oh! that's okay, i can patch you up :)
Dream: ARE YOU SULKING
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queermentaldisaster · 3 months
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“There's a Revolution Coming”, part three of “The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To”.
First thing's first. If you read this on AO3, please, please, please pay attention to the tags. I will add sufficient warnings for each chapter here as well, but this is very much a Dead Dove fic. What you see is what you get. So please, proceed with caution when you see the tws/tags.
Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @axelaxolotl09 @im-here-and-im-confused @bringinsexybackk69 @rainerestored @8-rae-rae-8 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please inform me)
(Possible) tw: Children in captivity, mental breakdown, mentions of torture and mind control, discrimination towards demons, and implied child abuse. Proceed with caution.
Chapter 1 under the cut.
The helo landed, and Mirror grabbed Soap's bound wrists and began dragging him towards the military base. Soap's eyes trailed upwards, and his eyes narrowed. With the amount of security around this place, it reminded him of a castle. He looked back down, taking a deep breath. ‘Och, poor Si…he's probably terrified right now and masking it with anger…’ he thought. His thoughts were on Ghost, even as Mirror dragged him through the base. Then, he looked up, and saw just how many demons were here. More than a thousand. The rest must've come from all over the world, then. ‘How many demons did Meister break?’ Soap thought, as his mind drifted back to a conversation Ghost and him had while he was still recovering.
“You know, Meister tortured us to make us weak to mind control.” Ghost murmured. Soap's head snapped up from his sketchbook. “Mind control?” He asked. Ghost nodded. “Affirmative.” He brought his hand up to his neck. “He’d collar us, then attack us. He saw us as nothing more than tools.” Ghost's wings tightened around himself. Soap's eyes softened and he touched Ghost's hand. “Yer so much more than a tool to me, Simon. Yer as alive as the rest of us.” he murmured. Ghost looked back at Soap and his eyes spoke volumes. “Thanks, Johnny.”
A tear rolled down Soap's cheek. God, he hoped Ghost was looking for him. He was scared.
Mirror dragged him into a room, shoving him in and locking the door behind him. Soap fell to the floor, and knelt there, his hands clenched into fists. He let the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, as he tried not to sob. He was in the lion's den and all alone. Too weak to fight against demons and vampires and…whatever Shepard was. God, he'd never wished for anything, not even to be a monster…but now, he was cursing his human heritage. ‘Ah’m useless. Cannae even save maself, much less love Simon how he wants.’ He bit his tongue. ‘Ah’m pathetic. Fought tooth ‘n nail ta get where ah was, and now ah'm here. In an empty room, captured, unable to save maself.’ A sob escaped from the gag, and the dam broke. He curled up, sobbing.
•✧-----------------------------------✧•
He didn't know how long had passed, and he didn't care. He'd managed to get the gag out at some point, and he was now staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-” He was interrupted by the door flying open. Graves was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Do you ever shut up!?” He snapped. Soap sat up, placing his bound wrists on his knees. “Ya ken, Graves, ye have a really bad track record with kidnapping. Twice in two months. Ghost isnae goin’ tae be happy with this.”
Graves's eyes narrowed. “I do not care what that beast thinks. He's nothing more than an animal, a tool to use as we see fit. He doesn't have feelings, he can't.” Soap's eyes narrowed. “...” He lunged at Graves, only to be tackled by one of the other demon guards. Graves's eyes narrowed. “Take him to the little room.” The demon nodded and dragged Soap off as Soap screamed his head off at Graves, in pure rage.
The demon threw Soap in another room, this one with three beds, and paper strewn around the room. He hit the ground roughly, and he let out a groan. He felt hands grab his binds and he almost struck the person…until he looked ahead…and saw a child with pale tannish skin, her right eye being a purple color, her left eye being a pink color, blonde hair, and tiny red horns. “Evelyn! He could be a threat!” came a voice. He turned his head and saw a girl, no older than fourteen, shielding a smaller boy. The girl had light grayish pinkish-purple hair, her right eye being orange and her left eye being a dark grayish magenta color. She had a burn scar by her right eye, and she had horns of a dull gold color that curved like a ram's. Soap looked around, spotting two other kids. His heart sank.
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imfinereallyy · 11 months
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when you said I scared you, well I guess you scared me too
Steve looks over the pamphlet in his hands. The smooth surface shouldn’t feel so rough on his hands. He supposes that’s because of the scars and callouses over his fingers. Nothing is able to be soft for him anymore.
Steve moves his gaze from the pamphlet to the door, to the pamphlet and the door once again. It shouldn’t be so scary. It is a community center door, similar to the ones they have in Hawkins. It’s made of beat-up wood and foggy glass. Steve’s sure if—no when, he pushes the door open, it’ll squeak. Rusting hinges that need replacing long ago, reminding him of his worn-out limbs.
Steve knows he shouldn’t feel so achy at 25, but when facing his own mortality year after year for so long, he knows a few aches is probably the bottom of the barrel of problems he has.
Steve lets out a breath. Circles his thumb around the edge of the pages and gives himself a paper cut. He doesn’t flinch; he knows it will happen. He isn’t sure if he could look someone in the eye and tell them he didn’t do it on purpose. He probably would tell the truth instead; he has many vices, but lying isn’t one of them. The truth being he just wants a reminder that he is alive.
That this is real.
“Okay.” Steve breathes again. He can do this. He promised Robin he is going to try. Even after all this time, he can’t say no to her. Can’t break her heart. So even though they move to a new city, even though Steve has already been sober for two months, she thinks this will be good for him.
Narcotics Anonymous: 6pm-8pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Fucking N.A. Steve thinks. He doesn’t want to do it. It is already hard enough trying to avoid all of the Upside Down stuff, a major contributor to his problem. But the other big part, the abuse part, the queer part, isn’t always safe to talk about. No matter how anonymous it says, it is. Steve isn’t stupid. Sure, there were other things he could talk about. His neglectful parents. His struggles with depression. The countless head injuries. How one of his best friends hasn’t spoken to him in over five years. How he is pretty sure he is dead. How the other friends of his he met when they were 13, and he is nearly 18.
All really good stuff to work out.
But Steve knows he won’t be able to move on unless he can talk about everything honestly. Well, everything that isn’t signed away in an NDA.
“Isn’t the point to be able to heal?” Steve tells Robin when they are unpacking boxes. “It’s either this or therapy dingus, and this is free,” Robin says while wrapping bubble wrap around his head.
She does the research, of course, because she’s Robin. She finds the one group in all of Chicago that is considered “friendly to all groups around.” She even admits to having Dustin help her, and Robin doesn’t ask anyone outside of Steve for help, let alone admit it. So Steve knows she is serious.
Steve groans loudly. His voice echoing throughout the hallway. Using the pamphlet as a barrier between the wood and his palm, Steve pushes through the door.
As usual, Steve underestimates himself, and the door slams against the wall, echoing throughout the room. Everyone in the room turns away from the podium to look behind their seats at Steve.
Steve glances at his watch. 6:04 pm. Shit. He supposes punctuality is supposed to help with recovery. “Sorry,” Steve says to the room with a grimace and a little finger wave.
“It’s okay.” The man at the podium states. He has salt-and-pepper hair and round-frame glasses. He isn’t particularly old, though. He’s handsome, and well-aged. Like a fine wine that Steve knows he can’t touch anymore. “You actually arrived a little early for a first-timer. Please have a seat; we just started.” The man laughs lightly, waving to the empty back row.
Steve rushes to his seat. Thankful that most people here have the humanity to face back to the front. He brings a little relief to Steve, knowing these people can sense when not to push.
Well most people.
See, while everyone else turns back around, one head stays perfectly on Steve. He can feel the eyes boring into him so furiously that Steve can’t help but turn in their direction.
Steve expects an older gentleman who is fed up with young people's disrespect of punctuality. Or a younger person, wanting to move addictions from drugs to sex. Which Steve isn’t looking for right now. He even thinks that maybe it’s a family member someone brought with them today who doesn’t understand the etiquette of N.A.
What Steve doesn’t expect is to turn and see the very best friend he hasn’t seen in five years. A man he thought to be dead. A man whose last words to Steve were that he rather would be.
Because there, staring at Steve with wide eye curiosity and sorrow is Eddie Munson.
And he is even more beautiful than the last time Steve saw him.
***
just an idea I had bouncing around….
part 2? Maybe if people are interested, cause I have so much I could write on this. Either way I think this interesting on its own. Also I’ve dealt with addiction close hand with loved ones, but I am not an addict myself so if I get anything wrong please feel free to correct me. I want to handle this with care.
The title is from “Joey” by concrete blonde. An amazing song, everyone should listen to.
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navysealt4t · 25 days
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first official day of napowrimo!!! april 1st prompt is: poem that recounts the plot of a novel you haven't read in a while. (warning for themes of war, bombing, & past abuse)
overnight in a bomb shelter
if the world ends this week  please brush my hair  i won’t ask you to be gentle  let me walk barefoot  farther away than the eye can see  in weather cold or warm  i may bite you  sting and curse you  don’t come too close  feed me and bathe me  that’s all i ask   but bombs scream overhead  planes shriek with their engines  sirens blare from the streets  in a murky shelter  buried beneath the mud  of your childhood home  your calloused hands are soft  dropping a blanket ‘round my shoulders  reading a book in the dark  my ears ring and my hands shake  you shield me with your palms  you promise to teach me to sew  to read and write  to run and climb  in moments in the dark  where the world might end  where all i smell is mold  you treat me like a child  who has never known love  i treat you like a woman  who has never known love  and for a moment  the world feels right  as the bombs scream overhead  ‘cause the world might end tonight
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nowimhaunted · 4 months
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i don't know if anyone is awake yet but please keep midnight in your thoughts, i am so worried about her because she hasn't eaten in a few days so i took her to the vet and spend like $400 on tests and fluids and they still can't figure out what's wrong with her :( they gave me something to stimulate her appetite, but she still isn't eating. they told me if she doesn't eat at all today then my options are to take her to emergency or considering putting her down because she turns 17 years old this year and she's diabetic. I want to continue to fight for her, but I literally spent all of my money on her tests yesterday and I have nothing else left to take her to emergency. so my options are to either take out a predatory loan or just check myself into the mental hospital if she dies <3
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