#abusive parent mention

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

For the OC meet and greet, I'm going to give you one hell of a challenge >:)

TW | cancer mention, abusive parent mention, past child abuse, brief mention of self harm and suicidal ideation, noncon body modification

I want to know how your characters would handle Luca. They're very small (all of 5'0" and 95lbs on a good day) and are one of the most terrifying whumpers in my cast. White-blond hair, chillingly pale blue eyes. Even though they're pushing 30, they constantly get mistaken as a child by strangers. Their pretty, doll-like features don't help.

They come from my Liliholm and Page universe (superhero whump to anyone unfamiliar), and have the ability to heal almost any wound they themself inflict on another person. Those same powers will heal their own wounds whether they want them to or not. The kicker? All the pain they would go through for their body to heal that wound themself—all those months of aching and misery—still have to be felt in the matter of seconds it takes them to heal. They themself are nigh indestructible. Their employer uses them as a torturer. Not for information, but as punishment for political and social adversaries that step too far out of line. They are very, very good at their job, and very well feared by the people in their circle.

They're abrasive, bitter, and aggressive in just about every sense of the word. They currently only have three people in the world they care about: their partner in crime, Garcia; their "handler", Leon Molinaro, who is responsible for making sure they don't maim anyone their employer wouldn't approve of; and their horribly abusive mother who they're trying to keep alive through her chemo treatments. They can't stand to be touched by anyone, and are VIOLENTLY sex-repulsed. Even the people in their life that they give a shit about are kept at arm's length and then some.

Beneath that surface, you've got someone who has been abused their entire life, is being manipulated by their father-figure employer into believing he actually cares about them, and who has been unsuccessfully suicidal for decades. There's also a particularly nasty little rumor about them—that Luca is actually a eunuch. How that might have happened is anyone's guess, but if it's true, it certainly wasn't voluntary.

In their home universe, the only one brave enough to truly adopt them is Leon. Would anyone in your universe take them on?

Hmmmmm look. Am I on a Hilton kick? Yes I am but ironically enough it’s Hilton’s world that has my healing character (Parker is floating around somewhere). Griffin, Hilton’s Carewhumper, could most likely keep them in line. He’s an undercover agent.

Griffin can read people’s body language and expressions so well it’s practically impossible to lie to him. He also had a shit family so it’s not a world unknown to him.

There’s also Trevor, who is Griffin’s boss (the one griffin is trying to take down). The thing with Trevor is that his touch is addictive. Makes anyone he interacts literally crave his presence and attention. I’m super curious how they would work out if Luca is touch adverse and heals. Would it work? It would not be fun for anyone involved the first time.

Yeah Griffin is Luca’s best bet. He’d likely the be the one with enough personal experience to be able to ignore the agression and get pushed away. He’d have to keep Luca and Hilton COMPLETELY SEPARATED though because holy shit that would be bad. They would hate each other to the bone. Even when they’re older, Hilton “adopts” Parker, my healing OC, and would do everything in his power to keep them away from Luca from fear Parker would end up even more traumatized then they already are. Idk if Luca would even want to interact with them, but Hilton would literally attack if they tried and now there’s a whole new mess lol.

Other than that? I have a weird gut feeling Luca and Tool would get along okay. Can��t put my finger on it but I just feel like they’d find common ground and weirdly get along.

Luca would tear Brody to fucking shreds lmao.

[inkskinned]

having good & true friends will literally save and protect you in a million unfathomable ways. like okay we have written so many times about lovers. but the way a platonic friend laughs and cries with you. the way they hold your hand at 14 years old and at 34. the way they keep a little silver tie to you, touching base over and over and over. how you can go years without talking, only to re-meet and discover: oh shit! you're still cool!

there are people who have been in my life for more than half of it, and i have loved every version of them. do you know how fucking beautiful that is. yeah love will save the world. but the way friends love you is gonna save the you.

[mossiestpiglet]

Connor gets to expose his greatest wound which has always been absence and that he was never the child that mattered to his father, he can address his fear that the isolation and obscurity will only get worse as he gets older. Even Tom is given his moment to fall apart, to feel the shock of being around death, the sadness of losing someone he had revolved so much of his life around, and to grieve the reality that he was never going to get the relationship with him that he wanted no matter how long Logan lived.

its truly moving how much grace in this episode was given to the reality of losing a parent who was abusive and how none of the Roys reactions is cut and dry. A huge part of their grief is not just for Logan, but that there is never going to be reconciliation. the possibility of their father apologising, being the dad they needed, has died with him. ken's"i can't forgive you, but i love you" encapsulates so much of that conflict, the cognitive dissonance of loving your parent and being their victim who is never going to get closure. roman tells Logan he's "a monster" so, of course, he'll be okay wherein his frame of reference for his father's strength is his own fear of it. shiv's childish insistence that she can't allow this, as if asserting herself hoping her father will admonish her for it as he always has. it's one thing to know your parent harmed you irrevocably and wish them suffering for that - but it's another thing, "a material event", to lose them and lose the chance, the hope once and for all, that the one person who hurt you more than anyone will make it okay. obviously, it's okay if you lose your abusive parent and feel nothing or feel glad, but i felt so relieved to see this episode give space to the tedious, complicated and painful reality that, even if you don't want to, you can feel grief your abusive parent and the loss of hope that leaves with them.

[grapefruitpeelz]

coool cool cool cool. so my dad let my abusive mom know the exact second I got home so she could come and force me to say hello and happy birthday . very sick very fun . anyway this is me encouraging all of u out there to go out and traumatize your abusive parents back by growing as a person

[the-meme-monarch]

hi i think im redoing my headcanon backstory for scc. last one was too wish fulfillment not enough nuance. their parents do still suck though don’t get it twisted. just not cartoonishly evil anymore. i don’t think I’ve ever posted/drawn them here before now

@artificialpomogranite came up with kermie’s name !

if you ship scc go. Away ,👍

[incognitopolls]

"Abusive" includes forms of abuse like physical, mental, emotional, or any other form.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

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

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

[wilwheaton]

if you know this secret handshake some of us use today, i see you and i’m so sorry.

I don't celebrate Father's Day (or any other Hallmark holiday) for reasons that will not surprise you if you know anything about my life.

But I do celebrate all the other children of fuckers and pieces of shit who survived like I did, who broke the cycle of generational trauma like I and my sister did, whose mothers forced them to praise and worship their abuser "because it's father's day" like mine did, who fucking hate the endless reminders to celebrate the dad we never had (in my case, because he chose not to be a dad to me like he chose to be a dad for my brother. I guess being a bully was more satisfying to him).

I see you, friends. I see you, and I know you see me, and I am both grateful and sad. We know this secret handshake we wish we didn't know. We know a very specific kind of loss that only we know, a type of lingering pain that never really goes away entirely, that can only be reduced to part of the background noise, but can crank itself up to 11 without warning.

I just want you all to know that I see you, and I love you. I know how tough it is, how much it hurts.

I want to specifically make meaningful eye contact with all of my fellow survivors who are also dads, who show up for our kids in spite of the pain and loss. It's such a challenge, and it means so much. We broke the cycle and that is massive. I'm so proud of us.

[furiousgoldfish]

I have an update about this situation, which if you didn't read it, was about me finding out that my parents are searching for me, going door to door and asking people on the street if they know me, even asking with my fake name. They found someone who did know me, and they chatted, and this person later called me and told me what had happened, to which I freaked out, asked them not to share any details about me, and explained that I had ran away due to violence and that I'm terrified of these people.

Now knowing that my parents are out there looking for me, I spent the next few weeks locked in, afraid to go out, only going to work and back, and sometimes disguised so I wouldn't be recognized. I didn't run into anyone on the street, nobody came to my door, I didn't get any other phone calls, so I eventually relaxed and decided that it was okay to be outside, even if they are looking, unless they find me directly where I live, I could easily escape on bike, and they wouldn't know where I went.

The other day I got the phone call from the person who talked to my parents, and they asked me to come over, to be gifted some extra clothing. I was scared, worried that it was a trap, that my parents somehow got this person to cooperate and to bring me to them, but I decided to be brave and go anyway, since the chance of this was very low, and on the phone they reassured me that I could forget that last situation. Still, when I got there I startedly looked around to see if anyone was in there, but it was all empty.

I got some extra details of what happened; it was my mother and a friend looking for me, my father was not present. This person admitted to actually knowing me, and where I live, so my parents know someone who is in contact with me right now. However the person didn't share my address with them, which is why I was still safe.

Then the person revealed they actually got a call from my mother later that day, and they had an argument over the phone. The person repeated what I had told them – that I ran because of violence, because I was forced to work to deserve to eat and sleep there, because of death threats, torture, neglect, and my mother responded angrily 'You don't know what kind of trouble they were causing me!'. Then my mother still tried to convince this person that she cares about me and is worried about me, but the person rebutted with 'you should have cared when they were younger', and when my mother wouldn't stop asking for information, the person said that if she calls again, the police will be called and hung up.

Now this was very interesting to me, firstly my mother getting a police threat upon trying to find me, that is extremely good, satisfying, reassuring, positive, made me so happy. I was in a good mood for the rest of the day just thinking about what kind of reality-check that must have been, to have other people threaten with police and stand in their way of getting to me. I feel it was the first time someone actively protected me and it feels like I've been waiting my whole life for that to happen, and I never thought it would.

Second thing is her 'you don't know what kind of trouble they were causing', because she wasn't even denying the accusations of violence and torture! She blatantly did admit that yes, I had to work to deserve to live as a child, I was beaten, neglected, I was threatened death, I was kept in sub-human conditions, but she just felt it was justified! Because I was 'causing trouble', which is a lie, I did everything she asked me when I was a kid. It's like she still thinks me standing up to her violent abusive husband was 'me causing trouble' excuse me why did you marry that thing, and then never stood up to it? I had more backbone as a child than she has as an adult and this was 'me causing trouble'. I stood up to him because it was the right thing to do, because he was attacking me and my siblings, what do you mean I was causing trouble defending rest of the family from violence and absorbing it so the rest of you wouldn't have to. Ungrateful lying coward.

And also her saying I was the awful troublemaker doesn't check out with the rest of her story; if I was such a menace why is she out there looking for me? Why is she not blessed that I am gone and she can finally enjoy your life? Would you actively seek out someone you have to control with death threats from how much trouble they're causing to you? The lie is falling apart.

This has me very calmed down and grateful that not all people are cowards and unwilling to stand up to abusers. I've never seen this before, in my experience, people were always ready to bow down to my parents and see me as an ungrateful horrid creature who needs to be put into their place. This person has known me enough to see that I'm honest, fair, hardworking, kind, accommodating, they even told me that they can see there's nothing twisted about me. They understood that my situation is one of a struggle and that I have to work hard to survive, and often expressed that I struggle too much compared to others. And this isn't someone I'm on constant contact with, we talk once a year. I was surprised they picked up on this much.

I'm feeling better about the situation now I understand I was defended, I'm not that afraid anymore. I did get upset that my mother is trying to convince people that I was just so bad I deserved all, but at least not everyone believes it. I mean, it's ridiculous for anyone to believe a child could possibly deserve this, but I know a lot of people who do believe that. I thought everyone would side with my parents forever. Feeling better knowing there's one person who sided with me, when it was crucial for my safety.

[hajihiko]

Family Business

[schnuffel-danny]

trying to do an infographic of my headcanons of Jack/Vlad pre-college 😅

it was Them VS The World for years and then Vlad had to go on and die in a freak accident and ruin everything smh 😒

oops they really are just OCs at this point aren't they....

[neurodivergentaf]

it's so wild when your parent changes when you become an adult. my dad is very cordial and non confrontational - he regularly helps me with adult stuff like changing the oil or providing insurance tips. he's always smiling when i call him on video and providing jokes when i complain about college

when i was a kid, i would have to tiptoe around his anger issues often, sometimes running quietly past his work table until he got his own place completely separate from our family, locked away for days. every so often he would start screaming in the car and trying to hit me or my brother for talking too loud while my mom attempted to calm him down as he swerved on the road. and now he, smiling, helps me with car insurance.

like oh, this is just who you are when you have power over someone, and this is who you are when you dont have power over someone. no wonder you can have a normal life, friends, work while scaring the shit out of your kids and wife. i see it now. i see why no one would have believed me. that, i think, is one of the core fears of trauma - seeing the outside of it from the perspective of other adults that brushed you aside, and understanding. of course, that understanding gives the opposite of solace; it just gives you more grief with nowhere for it to go

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial III

the prosecution makes its argument

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past trauma, referenced child abuse, referenced caning, past emotional abuse, war, guilt, parental death mention, child death mention, emotional whump, crying, angst, comfort)

In the Emperor’s quarters, the dead far outnumbered the living. Delta knelt upon the bearskin run and ran his fingers through its thick white fur. He wanted to reach for the mouth of it, to feel the teeth, but he dared not move without permission. The fresh cane marks along his calves made sure of that.

“Here, boy.”

The Emperor had taken to calling him boy, which he found strange and overfamiliar. To his handlers, he had always been One-Oh-Seven. More and more, it has simply been Delta. There was no need for numeration when there were no others.

He rose up off of the carpet, taking silent steps until he stood in front of the weary form of the old man. 

The doctor was nowhere to be seen. For this, he was grateful.

A hand heavy with time and with rings pressed against his forehead. Did he look sick? He didn’t mean to. The Emperor would find no fever there, at any rate. Delta ran cold.

“Are the stars all in alignment tonight, poppet?” He withdrew his hand. “Will today be a good day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was no gap in between their words. There was no hesitation. He would be punished for lying just as quickly as for failing, so he was careful not to lie. Of course today would be a good day. 

Delta was excellent.

But the Emperor still searched him. It was not illness he had sensed. 

“Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice only made the sting worse. Delta looked down in shame.

It was sullenness. That was all. He was cold all over, soaked with shame. It was bad, he knew. He was supposed to take all punishment without complaint, but Delta so seldom needed correction. It hurt all the more when it did come. He couldn’t get the chill of it to leave him. He’d been torn into. 

Unfit, the doctor had said. Unworthy of the privilege. Disgraceful.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Delta responded, the shame of it deepening. He hadn’t meant to sulk about it. He was only proving their point.

There was nothing wrong with his ability to perform, which is all the Emperor had really been asking. A little emotional hurt had never impacted his powers before — thank god for that. Today would be no exception.

With that, the Emperor rose up. Delta followed a half-step behind him. He was getting on in age. It was never hard to keep up.

They walked all the way past the war room, out onto the deck of the ship. The air was thin in the upper atmosphere, but it was getting more bearable upon the descent. There were a collection of advisors and generals gathered about by the railing. Delta kept his head bowed respectfully, careful not to look them dead on. With the Emperor there, he knew they wouldn’t dare touch him. But it was a deeply ingrained habit and one he saw no reason to break.

There was a pressure at his shoulder. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only scared him worse. He could see the target below. Its perimeter was painted in a pale orange color.

They wanted showy this time.

Space was made around him as they clicked the collar off of his neck. He closed his eyes. The light was painful. All the hearts beating so close were distracting. 

Disgraceful. He felt the sting of fear in his chest and prickling at his eyes. It was going to hurt. He was getting frigid in a way he hadn’t before. He didn’t want to be hurt.

He zeroed in on the target anyway, visualizing its delimitation among the pale. He wished they’d given him something to hold onto. All he had now were his own hands and his nails cutting indents into the palms. Showy. The world snapped as the target was turned to dust.

The collar clicked back on. Blood was already pooling in his throat and in his sinuses. The migraine aura descended. He swayed, but not fall. The Emperor’s hand steadied him there. It moved calming circles into his back. He heard the applause, but to him it sounded miles away.

“Incredible.” The Emperor had whispered into his ear. “You were wonderful.”

And like that, he was glowing. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t supposed to feel a thing, but the warmth of the praise made itself at home in him. It was the only time he let himself feel anything close to pride — and he could have lived in its light. It was almost worth it. He felt sick enough to die and it was almost worth it.

~~~~~~

Silas placed the blank sheet of paper down onto the desk and slid it towards him. His expression was grim.

“I want you to write down every target you can remember hitting. Names and dates. It doesn’t have to be exact.”

The room was small and dark, not much bigger than a broom closet. Maryam sat beside him at the table. He had a legal right to keep her there — and thought he had not asked her to, she volunteered to accompany him. 

Delta rocked his leg a little as he felt at the rough graphite of the pencil.

He took the order for what it was. He had a good sense for it. There were some things he struggled to remember, but in general, his memory was better than most. He had been allowed no distractions. He’d had no choice but to focus in.

He started with the earlier days of his imperial career — the battleship he’d crushed on the water, the first show of strength before the purchase was made. And then there was all that came after. He was never told until the day of what he would be after, but he remembered them all the same.

Marisol

Pyrha

Holliday

Basalt

Clover

Killian

Versus

He wrote mechanically, appending the dates as best as he could. He’d already made up this list in his mind several times. He’d have offered it to Levon if things had gone differently, but as it stood, he’d never been given the chance.

Regina

Ursa

Deidra

Anatol

Timber

Jocobe

Weissan

He soon ran out of space on the page. He write in a smaller script around the margins.

“That’s enough,” Maryam said, eyeing the prosecutor nervously. Delta kept writing.

“You can stop now,” Silas agreed, reaching to take the paper back.

“I’m not done,” Delta snapped. 

He recoiled just as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t know where he’d gotten the nerve to speak like that, to talk back at all, and especially not to them. He dropped the pencil and drew back into the chair, fully expecting to get smacked in the mouth, bare minimum. 

The hit didn’t come. Silas took the paper and examined it without much reaction. It was a long list — and that was only with the Emperor. He hadn’t even gotten to Paris yet.

“Can I ask you something? For my own curiosity?” Silas said.

Delta looked up at him.

“About how far away from the target are you when activated?”

“…A mile, sir.” Delta tapped at the chair.

He nodded. “What’s the closest you’ve ever been to someone you’ve killed?”

He heard Maryam scoff beside him, but he thought it was a fair question, if an abrupt one. He had to think about it for a second. As the answer came to him, he felt the shock of ocean water, stealing just as much breath from him as it had the first time.

He held his hands up to demonstrate, having no other way to quantify the distance. Right up against his body. He’d garroted him, wrapped the chains around his neck and held him there. The water had done the rest. He hadn’t even used his powers.

“Daniel Martino,” he answered quietly, “The same night I got picked up.”

It was his most recent kill  — and if Levon’s word was anything to believe in, it would be the last. 

He hadn’t told anyone about it until now.

“Your handler?” Silas asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Silas and Maryam exchanged a look he could not read.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t fault you for that.” Silas folded the paper into his pocket.

The clemency caught him off guard. Delta looked down, embarrassed all the same.

~

The shades were drawn in the conference room. It was a stormy day outside — Delta could imagine how the static might’ve felt on his skin had he been out there. For now, all he could do was imagine it.

“Delta,” the prosecutor drew his attention back, “I asked you a question.”

Silas was sharper with him when there was a crowd. He was familiar with this tactic. It didn’t register to him as a surprise, only as a kind of dull pain.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Delta said weakly, but sincerely. “…Could you repeat it, please?”

He usually would not have been bold enough to make requests, but then he usually wouldn’t have zoned out in the first place.

“Were the accounts of lateral violence within the Institute true?” He asked, then clarified: “Were the students there encouraged to hurt one another?” 

“Yes, sir.” Delta closed his eyes. He did not need to guess the next question.

“Did you ever use your powers to injure the other students?”

Not because he wanted to. He didn’t know if he was allowed to answer with that. It had been a yes-or-no question — and his handlers had gotten mad whenever he tried to explain himself around it. He didn’t know if the same rules would apply here.

“Yes, sir.”

He caught the concerned looks of the others at the conference table. The council members had shown him no scorn so far, in spite of everything. He dreaded losing it. But in his mind, it was an inevitability. He couldn’t make himself look back.

“Did you ever kill any of them?”

It wasn’t the same as injuring. The administration had loved to use him as a threat long before he was in the imperial service. He’d always be the first they brought out they sent to scare the others into submission. After the first few times — cracked ribs, broken arms, and painful shocks — any actual violence wasn’t needed. The threat alone was enough.

That wasn’t the same as killing. While the punishment had been painful, the kills were quick. Those were for safety alone. Nobody ever died as a punishment. They died because they were about to kill everyone else.

It’d been a yes-or-no question. The answer was yes, obviously.

“Yes, sir.” 

He kept his eyes down. Kitty shifted a bit to his left. He didn’t want to see the way her face changed when she found out.

Silas ended his line of questioning. The lights dimmed further as the video began to play.

PYRHA 08

SOL 07

The caption showed against the grainy white backdrop. He could see the town in his mind before it was shown on the screen. It was before the disaster. Jade was pushed up into the edges of the home. All their streets were still cobblestone. From above, as he had seen it, the town looked to be built into a crescent moon shape. The blue tops of buildings stood out against the pale sand.

“…There was this burning, endless light…”

The voiceover played over still frames of the cloud. The images clipped together in animation. He saw the tip of the airship approaching the edge of the sky.

Whoever had produced the documentary had no knowledge of the cause. How could they? It was a superweapon, they were sure, but how could they have known what? 

All they could do was to quantify it. The ground temperature had reached the same peak as the sun. The duration lasted ten to fifteen seconds — 12.945 seconds, Delta corrected in his mind. There’d been no warning. 2,031 people had died. About five hundred families.

The focus was the math — and more than that, the footage. Few of his attacks had ever been so well documented. But almost as an aside, they had spoken to some of the eye witnesses.

A girl with chestnut brown hair smiled sadly into the camera as she held up the picture. The image quality changed again as a video from inside her house began to play. He could not tell if she was the infant or the child holding onto it inside the cedar living room. The camera shifted angles to capture their mother grinning on the couch, clapping along to the silent song. 

There was some primordial ache in him that would not sleep. It’d always burned too hot. After the first few times, he’d learned not to touch it.

He felt it burning now, pressed up against his skin with no escape.

“And my friends always made fun of me for being such a townie, because I had to ride the bus two hours just to get to school,” the girl chirped softly, “And I remember that morning, my mom telling me not to stay too long after classes. She wanted me to come straight home that day because-“

Her voice broke. 

“Because we were going to go out as a family.”

The clip cut away to the moment the sky tore open.

Delta stood up before he knew what he was doing. He stumbled blindly away from the table, pushing out into the hall.

He’d taken her parents from her. Ripped her away from them, the same way he’d been ripped away from his own. The loss cut through him sharper than he could ever remember. 

He was crying. He couldn’t stop it. The sorrow and fear enveloped him in equal measures. He’d walked out. He hadn’t been dismissed, he’d never walked out like that in all his life. But he couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

He wanted his mom. It was silly. He didn’t even know what she looked like. She clearly hadn’t wanted him.

“Delta?” Levon called after him. He stopped dead. He was recall trained — he wouldn’t dare move farther. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He didn’t think he could.

He sank to the floor instead. He tried to hide his tears, but his body shook from the effort. He was still good about being quiet when he was hurt. He was trying very hard to be good about it.

A soft sob escaped him anyway. Levon bent down onto the floor beside him.

“That was too far. I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” Levon placed one hand lightly onto his shoulderblade. His thumb worked over the knots that had formed there, so bound up and painful.

“I’m sorry,” Delta said. It was always the first thing to come out of his mouth these days, no matter how much they tried to correct it. 

He remembered how young he was at the time. He remembered how proud he’d been.

“I didn’t know,” Delta said through tears, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know, baby,” Levon’s voice got quiet. It didn’t echo. No one else could have heard. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Then, even quieter, the admission: “It’s not your fault.”

Delta sobbed into his sleeve, leaning over so that his face almost touched the ground. He wished he could stop it. It was taking everything out of him.

He felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. It was an invitation. He accepted it before he could stop himself, too desperate for any semblance of comfort. Levon pulled him into the hug. His cries grew muffled as he hid his face in the fabric of the shirt.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Levon said, the pain audible in his voice. He carded his hands through the boy’s hair, doing all he could to soothe him.

“I didn’t mean to,” came the soft whine in response.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

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@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

[punkstylerecovery]

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

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

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

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

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

[ozzo-the-wozzo]

Trying to explain Adrien’s subplot in miraculous to anyone but it’s literally just this:

[furiousgoldfish]

my parents: punishing and humiliating me under duress and torture for having any kind of reaction, for crying, for complaining, for getting angry, trying to fight back, breaking down or showing any kind of pain and fear

also my parents: increasingly annoyed when they can't easily get a reaction out of me and stooping to worse and more horrid provocations and violence to still be able to get a reaction