#discussions to child abuse

[sovengardeswag]

The Pines Files

Chapter 4: The Haunting of Katherine Stavros

An ex-SCP comes back to the foundation, and Mabel and Dipper learn that the files are even less trustworthy than they thought

Hey quick note, this is where the references to and mentions of child abuse start, it's not explicit, but as I say in the AO3 tags, it's there. There is also a singular mention of miscarriage though no one actually has one. I will also be trigger tagging here on tumblr. Please take care of yourself.

The sun was high and bright in Alaska, the several-hour twilight breaking into proper day. The weather was comfortably in the 70's and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. This really had been an excellent decision, Katherine thought. There was plenty of work to do here, out in this place, but it was good work. No one was out here to tut over her quarterly performance, no one was here to beg to keep their job after some bullshit merger, and there was no one to tell her they were above the rules. There was just the wilderness, her animals, her daughter, and Steve the farmhand. As she finished the last drops of coffee, she went back inside. She saw Steve groggily coming downstairs, the tall blond rubbing his eyes as she told him, "You came in late again, Steve."

"Woah, sorry Mrs. S. I swear I'm not hungover or anything."

"I know, just try to not be so loud. Lacy needs her sleep and I don't want the door slamming late at night."

"You got it." He went to pour himself some coffee as Katherine went up the stairs, knocking on the door and asking, "Lacy, honey, you up?" When there was no answer, Katherine checked the knob, it was unlocked. She couldn't help but smile at that. Lacy finally felt safe in this house. It also told her that all that work she put into looking into Steve paid off. He was a good kid, a little distracted, but respectful. Either way, she headed into Lacy's room. Being careful to not startle the little girl, she turned on the light before approaching the bed. "Come on, sleepy head, it's morning."

Lacy groaned and turned over in her bed before sitting up, holding her fluffy pink blanket close. She wrapped it around herself, not complaining about being woken up, "Ok."

"You sleep good, honey?"

Lacy shook her head, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself, "Uh-uh."

"Oh no, baby, what happened?"

"I had a nightmare, there was a scary man there and he said weird things."

"Was the scary man your father?"

She shook her head.

"Was it Steve?"

She shook her head again.

Katherine sighed, stroking the girl's straight, blonde hair, a stark contrast to her own curly, black hair. Lacy's pale skin was a contrast too, though not as stark, against her olive skin. "Well, either way, your dad can't hurt you anymore, he has no idea where you are. And if Steve says or does something that makes you uncomfortable or unsafe, you come straight to me and I'll deal with him, you got that?"

"Yes, Kathy."

Oh, oh no, back to Kathy. She must have been utterly rattled. She helped her out of bed and told her, "Well, you just get dressed and washed up and I'll show you the calves and we'll feed the chickens and we'll get some ice cream after the tractor supply store and dinner."

"Does that mean I don't have to do summer reading?"

"Don't push it, Lacy."

"The other homeschool kids don't do summer reading."

"The other homeschool kids didn't miss as much as you have," well, more like they hadn't fallen off track like she had. Either way, she told her, "I'm making biscuits, so hop to it."

Lacy finally let her blanket fall and nodded, locking the door once Katherine was out. Once downstairs, Katherine set to making biscuits and asked Steve, "Could you watch the house while I'm gone today? I need to go to the tractor store and I'll also be getting Lacy some dinner."

"You got it," he said, taking the sausage from the fridge to help out. "Mrs. S, did I scare Lacy?"

"Were you eavesdropping, Steve?"

"No, no, you just took a while to get back is all." He started to fry up the sausage, not looking at her.

"Well, no. What you need to understand is that Lacy has been through a lot and what sets her off won't always be predictable. She had a regular bad dream is all. If it was something you did, she'd tell me."

"'S good to know."

"Oh, and Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Please stop calling me Mrs, we've been over this."

"Sorry Mr-" Steve stopped himself, "Sorry Ms. Stavros." He made sure to put emphasis on the Z sound.

"Thank you."

After breakfast, it was time to get to work. Lacy fed the chickens while Steve collected eggs and Katherine made a count of all their supplies. A quick affair if ever there was any, but necessary. When the list was done, the real work started; getting the cows out.

Katherine Stavros was not a dairy baroness by any means. her herd was a grand total of 20 heads of cattle, 10 cows, and just as many calves. They used to have a bull, but he had to be sold off once the job was done, so to speak. Either way, when the barn was opened, the cows and their calves came running out, frolicking in the sun. Steve couldn't help but laugh as he asked, "Have a good night, ladies?"

He was met with contented moos, as if the ladies were answering him, the calves stopping to sniff him as they often did before he went into the barn to check the feed and milk stalls. Katherine made sure the girls were all accounted for in the fields, the calves well fed. As she did, she called out, "Make sure to set some milk aside for us, Steve!"

"Got it, Ms. S!"

And Lacy sat in the truck bed, reading as she watched the cattle go about their business, eating the grass and sunbathing while the calves nursed. She spoke up and asked, "Mom, why can't I pet the calves? They're so cute."

"Because you're small, baby. If one of the cows decides she doesn't want you near, there won't be anything you can do to stop her from trampling you. I'll let you start helping when you're older." She then called to the barn, "Steve! Brady needs his antibiotic shot! Get a lasso!"

"But I won't hurt them."

"They don't know that, honey. For all they know, you might be planning to eat a calf you come up to, and they're good moms, they'll do anything in their power to prevent that."

It was then that Steve arrived with the lasso, swinging it above his head before catching the red calf in question while Katherine got the injection ready. His mother lowed in anger the entire time.

Much of the day passed by doing chores. When those were done, Katherine kept track of the books while Lacy read and Steve knit. As the day became lighter, Katherine and Lacy got ready to head out, Steve still at it with his knitting. As they headed out the door, Katherine asked him, "Do you want anything from Tomato Yard?"

"Just some chicken alfredo."

"You got it."

The trip to the tractor supply wasn't anything special. Just some seaweed feed, and some medical supplies. Once it was loaded up in the truck though, Lacy said, "There's something I didn't tell you about the dream."

Oh no. Katherine stayed parked in the truck, asking Lacy, "What happened, honey?"

"The guy in my dream said weird things. Things that didn't sound like words, but he also called me a weird name, A'tivik. What does that mean?"

Well, Katherine wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't that. She turned the key in the ignition and said, "Well, I don't know, baby. It sounds familiar but I don't know from where or what it means."

"Is it bad?"

Katherine felt uneasy about the name but told Katherine, "I don't think it is. Tell you what, why don't we look it up when we get home? It might just be your brain doing weird things."

"Ok."

But as Katherine drove, she continued to feel uneasy. Why was that bothering her? It didn't sound like anything real. It sounded like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel or something. And sure, Lacy was too young to be reading that, but it shouldn't be inciting that kind of nervousness in Katherine.

However, the thoughts faded as they got to the restaurant, sat down, and ordered spaghetti for Lacy, tortellini for Katherine, and Steve's chicken alfredo to go. Her thoughts drift to the more mundane, Lacy's curriculum, financials on the farm, and Steve. He had been hired seasonally, but he had done well, despite his slightly ditzyness. She could probably extend his contract, as discussed, and keep him as a farmhand in the off-season. It would certainly be helpful when Lacy went to in-person schooling. But there was one person's opinion she needed. "Lacy, honey, what do you think of Steve?"

"He's nice, he showed me how he knits and he lets me read his comic books."

"Oh, which ones?"

"Spider-Man. He keeps some from me, though, some red guy. I want to read them but he says they're too violent."

Katherine thought for a moment, there were a lot of violent, red, comic book characters, "What does he look like?"

"Kind of like Spider-Man, but he's got swords."

"Oh, Deadpool. He's right to do that."

But then Lacy blurted out, "Is Steve in trouble?"

Katherine raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Why would he be in trouble."

"Because we read them when we're supposed to be keeping an eye on the hoof guy, and when we need to keep an eye on the cows when the vet is checking them. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Lacy, no, don't worry, that's fine. I know Steve is just multitasking. Granted, I wish he was a little more subtle about it, but I knew."

"Oh."

"Mmmhmm, now, eat your breadsticks, the doctor says you're still underweight."

Lacy gladly grabbed another breadstick.

Though, now that Katherine thought about it, poor Lacy must have been lonely, if Steve was her one source of comic books and mischief. She needed to see about getting her into mainstream school faster.

They, as promised, stopped for ice cream on the way home. Things were fully calm. There was no need to fear Steve's job security or weird dreams. Katherine felt perfectly fine. That was until they pulled up to the house and the door was open. Normally, she wouldn't think much of it. Attribute it to Steve being Steve and grumble about the electric bill. But something felt different. A feeling in her gut that something was very wrong. Call it a trauma response, call it mother's intuition, she pulled a hunting knife out of the glove compartment and told Lacy, "Wait in the car, honey."

"What's going on?"

"Just stay, Lacy." She got out of the truck, not sure what to expect. Her house ransacked? Her sparse jewelry gone? Lacy's one safe space made unsafe yet again? A bunch of wild animals running amock? As she stepped through the door, she immediately gasped, dropping her knife.

On the floor of her living room, in the middle of the Alaskan countryside, was the body of one Steve Ivanov, naked, and lying in a puddle of his own blood. He had been placed in the fetal position by whoever had done this. Though he had his legs closed, she could tell he had been mutilated from the amount of blood on his thighs. She did not check just how badly, wanting the man to have a modicum of dignity in death. Instead, she looked at what else was done to him. She counted seven stab wounds, his throat had been slit. But then, she saw that the cuts on his chest looked like writing. Shaking, she got down on her knees and gently pushed him onto his back. He went slack, so fresh that rigor mortis hadn't even set in. The writing on his chest read, "Come home, A'habbat."

Flashes of images came to her mind then, making no sense and complete sense. Impossibilities and things she knew to be fact. And she screamed, gripping her head and pulling her hair. For she remembered ALL. Every horrid dream of that horrid figure, the feeling of his hands on her even after she woke up, the agonies and tortures that came after, the false saviors, being just a number for a full year, the electrical shocks, the doctors in white coats, the "treatment administrators" in orange jumpsuits, every single FUCKING pill they gave her so the terror would be fresh, the one time she woke up not to terror anew but to a doctor with a necklace (no, amulet, she knew the difference now) telling her that everything would be ok, lying that it was her first day there and they would keep her safe until they figured out how to help her. It was a hundred lifetimes of horror upon her. And not even just earthly horrors. She was A'habbat. She remebered that. She remembered a time before time when existence was agony. She remembered. And that was the worst torture of all.

When her screaming finally ended, she panted, her throat feeling raw. She had expected the Johnsons, who lived a full mile away, to come running to see what the racket was about. Instead of a kindly older couple though, a scared little voice came from outside, "Kathy? What happened?"

"Go back to the car, Lacy!"

"But-"

"Do as I say! Do not come in here!"

Lacy squeaked and got back to the pickup. Katherine would probably regret yelling at her later but she couldn't deal with her parenting mistakes right now, instead, she went to the linen closet and wrapped Steve in a bedsheet. She then rolled him all the way out to the backyard, into the compost pit, and covered it with as much dirt as she could. It was better than leaving him naked in an abandoned house at least.

She then went into Lacy's room and grabbed her go-bag. She checked that it had the essentials and grabbed Katie's blanket and teddy bear for good measure, putting the whole thing in the girl's hamper. She then went to her room and grabbed her own go-bag and hamper before stomping on the loose floorboard at the foot of her bed, pulling out the cash box and shotgun that were there, and putting those in her hamper too. She headed to the truck and dumped it all into the bed, pushing the feed and medical supplies out, taking the shotgun with her as she got into the driver's seat, first making sure the house was locked. Lacy was curled up in the front passenger seat, hiding her face in her knees. She lifted her head a little and asked, "Am I in trouble, Kathy?"

"No, Lacy, you didn't do anything. Just buckle up and stay calm, ok?"

"Does it have to do with me? Do we have to talk to the witness protection lady?"

"No, no, it has nothing to do with you. It has to do with me."

"Huh?"

Katherine ignored the question, just backing the car up and turning before pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and making a call.

"Hello? Katherine?"

"Hi, Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry to call you last minute but I had a family emergency and needed to head South. Can you do me a huge favor and turn off the generator for the main house and bring some supplies into the shed? And make sure all the animals are fed too. Just send me the invoice for their feed if we run out on my property."

"Of course, Katherine. How long do you expect to be gone for? And what about Steve?"

She choked up for a single second, "Steve isn't working for me anymore. As for how long I'll be gone, I have no idea. If I'm not back in a month, there's a key under the welcome mat and the cows' papers are in a cabinet file in my office for you to sell off the animals. Make sure they go somewhere nice."

"Goodness, Katherine. What happened?"

"My father had something come up, something serious. Just promise me."

"I promise."

With that, Katherine hung up and passed the phone to Lacy. "Take the sim card out of this, it's in the little flap on the left, throw it outside, and turn the phone off."

Lacy nodded, starting to do that before quietly asking, "Where are we going, Kathy?"

"Someplace that will keep us safe," or at least, she hoped they would.

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

It had been a week since the project officially started. The turnaround time on the approval for this outing, and the creation of the Delta-Iota-Nu mobile task force, had been incredible, as they were already heading into the mines. Mason felt excited about the whole situation, nostalgic even. He also felt a certain amount of pride, leading the world's nerdiest mobile task force to the old, abandoned church and down the hole. It was almost funny seeing how nervous Katie was to go down into the unknown. Bright noticed and told her, "Hey, it's alright, this rope is the least of your worries," as they climbed down.

She shot back with, "That's exactly the problem!" Which got a laugh out of Dr. Gonzalez. Either way, as soon as everyone was down, they turned on their flashlight and started walking. As they did, Dr. Chen spoke into a tape recorder, "Expedition 1 into SCP-[REDACTED] mines, June 20. The shallowest level of the mines contains living specimens from the Cretaceous period trapped in sap."

Mason went to grab a sap sample while Dr. Chen kept talking, hearing him say, "Some specimens appear to be melting, hypothesized to be a result of global climate change. Melting specimens include a large female Tyrannosaurus Rex. Note: Request that Mu-Alpha-Epsilon monitor this specimen."

Mason looked at the offended Tyrannosaurus Rex and saw that it had its whole leg out now, where once it only had a toe. The beast's limb scratched the ground, attempting to escape its sap prison. He ran back to the group when she turned her eye to look at him.

As they went further, they saw more samples out of time, plants of all things. Dr. Chen spoke into his recorder again. "Despite a lack of sunlight, several Cretaceous era ferns have sprouted along the sap. Note: Test for UV radiation."

Mason took a picture of the ferns. It hadn't really occurred to him how weird it was that there were plants growing down here. Or how much light there was. Then again, he had been frustrated with Soos and worried about Mabel at the time. Not exactly the most observant of moods.

The deeper they went into the mine, the more sparse the sap became, and the more sparse the specimens became. The one sign of life at 100 meters below sea level being the bones of the pterodactyl family that had once been down here. Mason remembered how McGucket said that he had chewed through one of the hatchlings and, indeed, one of the skeletons showed signs of rib collapse. He took a picture as Dr. Chen spoke, "Anomalies appear to cease at this depth. Whether this is due to a lack of available food for living animals or the effects of the barrier are unknown."

Dr. Bright took that as a sign to move to the next part of the expedition, "Who has the drill?"

"I do," Dr. Gonzalez said, producing an electric drill from her messenger bag. However, instead of a regular drillbit, she attached a unicorn horn before handing it to Dr. Bright.

Dr. Bright tested the drill, squeezing the trigger a couple of times to produce a vrrp vrrp noise, and asked, "Are we away from the edge of town?"

Mason answered, "We are."

"Best not waste battery power on the wall, then." He crouched and drilled into the ground, producing a hole with no resistance from the ground. Dr. Chen described this as Katie helpfully sprayed it with red paint, "Marking the evidence, Dr. Bright."

"Love the initiative, Katie."

Dr. Pines then took a picture of the marker and all the ones that came after. Every 100 meters, they would drill at the bottom of the cave floor and find that the unicorn horn, tough as it was, went through the earth easily. The process became so mundane that Mason's mind started to wander. He thought of his and Mabel's D,D&MoreD "game" a few days ago. They had worked out a rather simple method over the years, he and Mabel. They had used a Mindflayer as the session's BBEG, and it used a globe of invincibility, to stop Mabel's Tabaxi from from learning its secrets. She got the gist of it pretty quickly, though she had griped about mindflayers in general. "It's literally just an alien," she had said. "Why does this game have aliens?"

When they got to the bottom of the mine, about UFO depth, Mason had half a mind to think that there was no bottom of the barrier, with absolutely no resistance so far. That it was just a bowl and that he was wrong. That was until he heard a snap and saw what happened when Dr. Bright tried to drill. He quickly took a picture before the shimmering ripples of arcane energy dissipated. That was a floor. That was definitely a floor. Dr. Gonzalez and Katie both immediately pulled tools out of their bags and started taking measurements. There were bits of unicorn horn all over the floor and Dr. Chen frantically took audio notes. Dr. Pines also dug through his bag, testing more materials. Shrink crystal, gnome hair, multi-bear claw shed, they all caused ripples. And he laughed, "Oh, what the hell? My first thought was right."

Katie wondered though, "How do you explain the lack of anomalies?"

"There's no food down here," explained Dr. Bright. "Living anomalies would have no reason to be down here and the mine was stripped a long time ago. Any anomalous minerals are top side already. Well, except the UFO." He looked at Mason as he adjusted his glasses, "Your hypothesis was right, Dr. Pines. How's it feel to be the man of the hour?"

"It, uh, feels pretty great to know I was right, actually."

"You know it does. It's a little early in our investigation but this is progress, how about we go for drinks?"

Mason smiled even more than he was before. His coworkers were inviting him somewhere. His boss was inviting him out for drinks. "Y-yeah! That sounds like a great idea."

They had to head to headquarters first, though, to clock out and decontaminate and write up reports, but after? They would have fun.

However, upon arrival at the base, there was a buzz in the lobby, a clamoring, and some yelling. Dr. Bright brushed past, since he had some authority, and the others followed out of curiosity. There, at the desk, speaking to security, was a woman in her 30s. She was holding a little girl's hand. Her daughter, most likely, but Mason noted that they looked nothing alike. There were some MTF agents, including Mabel, with tranq at the ready. If they were here, this couldn't just be a civilian.

Mason finally heard her speak, being so close to her, "Look, you have to believe me! No, I know you believe me, because you have the peanut gallery here instead of your no-good security staff! I know the "protect" part of your name is a sick joke but-"

Dr. Bright froze up as the woman, still holding the little girl's hand, went up to him, "You! I remember you! Tell them!"

Bright backed up, tucking his amulet into his shirt, "Ma'am, I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes, you do. I know you people took those mind wipe pills or whatever you call them, but I know you're a smart man, too, Dr. Bright! You were there for a year. Where do you think that time went?"

Dr. Clef, one of the doctors standing around, looked to Bright, "What is she talking about, Jack?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes, you do!"

The little girl tugged at her mother's sleeve and said, "Mom, I'm tired."

Mabel lowered her tranq gun and lifted her vizor, looking at the girl with sympathy. She then asked the mother, "Hey, Ms., is it ok if I get your kid a soda?"

Looking between her daughter and Mabel, the woman said, "Fine, but you better stay in my sight."

Mabel nodded and told the little girl, "Come on, a soda will perk you right up. How about a Cherry Pitt Cola?"

"Is it good?"

"Sister, it's so good that I make energy drinks out of it."

With the little girl away from the people pointing guns, the mother took a breath and started from the beginning, "My name is Katherine Stavros. You were there when I was SCP-231-7. I woke up again from those pills and you were there. You lied and said it was my first day there. And you were there the day I left. You made sure to lie to my parents too. That I was at an in-patient care facility for years. That I miscarried. You have to believe me."

Dr. Bright asked her, "When were you in our facility?"

"I was there for three years, from 2010 to 2012. I was a captive of The Children of The Scarlet King throughout 2009."

"Shit," Dr. Bright took off his glasses and rubbed his face as he thought very hard. It wasn't unusual for him to forget small stretches of time, being immortal and over 100 but, "I don't remember anything from 2011 to 2012. The last thing I remember before that was some sort of assignment change for something in the cult division and that's it." Definitely a possibility then.

There were whispers then. This was all way too suspicious and accurate to be a coincidence. Or at least, it was highly unlikely.

Clef went up to her and Katherine recoiled from him, a regular reaction even if she hadn't been through what she claimed. "Look, if you are who you say you are, and I'm not saying you are, you still can't stay here. You may have been through something anomalous, but you're not anomalous yourself. Not unless you had something happen to you again."

"I found a man dead in my home and a name carved in his chest made every memory of my torture and captivity come back. Don't go telling me that's nothing."

"I'm not saying it's nothing, what I'm saying is that unless you have evidence it was The Children and that you need our protection, then there isn't much I can do. And even then, we need to confirm your intentions with the ethics board."

"Ethics board?" Added Mason as he looked to Dr. Bright.

"Not many people know this, but SCP-231 is almost entirely under the purview of the ethics board. It's not classified, it's just not usually relevant."

Mason nodded as Ms. Stavros looked defeated, "So I'm just supposed to stay in a motel and hope they haven't caught up with me? So I'm just supposed to hope they don't take an eight-year-old and put her through everything they put me through? They called me by my past life's name, Doctor."

Mabel spoke up, "Well, what if they stayed with me?"

Both Bright and Clef looked at her in surprise. Neither of them knew her like Dipper did. Even after all these years, Mabel was still thinking of others. However, Dr. Cef said, "I appreciate your initiative, Agent Pines, but then we're back at the same problem. We can't approve protection right this second."

"I'm not offering as an agent, I'm offering as a concerned citizen. I'm seeing a poor lady in a new place with nowhere to stay and a little kid and I just want to help out. I just happen to have a lot of guns too."

"She's got a point Clef, she's not owned by the foundation, she can do things in her own house."

Both Mabel and Dipper cringed at the phrasing, but Ms. Stavros didn't notice, "Alright, that works." She then looked to the chairs where the little girl was drinking her Cherry Pitt, "Lacy, honey, come on, we're going."

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

The ride to Mabel's place was utterly uneventful. They had fone in Katherine's pickup, the woman stoic as she drove. Lacy had been buckled up in the front seat, Mabel next to her and Dipper awkwardly sitting in the backseat as he accompanied them. He had promised to fill his reports from home, it was fine.

Upon arrival toMabel's house, Dipper went to help the ladies with their bags, but Katherine stopped him, "Don't, Lacy doesn't like her things touched and neither do I."

"Alright, alright."

Honestly, he had only come here to make sure these two weren't cultists or from some other organization or something. Either way, both he and Mbael watched the two bring their stuff down. As Mabel led them inside, Katherine told her, "Thank you, by the way, for offering to help us. You're one of the few kind people I've met in that place."

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just leave you there."

Dipper walked in with them, still suspicious. He hadn't read every report, of course, but everyone read the censored version of the SCP-231 file as part of desensitization. If this woman was telling the truth, then that meant either that horrible document was fake or it was outdated. But he still had to check if she was lying. Sure she knew a lot, but that didn't necessarily mean she was telling the truth. That was why he asked, "So, uh, is Lacy the, you know," he struggled to find the words and settled on making a belly gesture.

"No, she's not," Katherine said in an annoyed voice like Dipper was stupid. "She's adopted. I'm not entirely sure I can have kids and she sure as hell isn't that one."

"You've had a baby, Kathy?"

Katherine glared at Dipper for a moment for exposing her like that before she told Lacy, "Yes, honey, but it was a long time ago."

"What happened to them?"

"They couldn't live with me because I was too young to take care of them and I didn't really want them anyways. So those people at the buildings are taking care of them."

"Oh."

Mabel took the opportunity to distract the child then, telling her, "Come on, Lacy, let me show you to your room."

"Ok!" Lacy followed Mabel happily, already trusting her, certainly more than Dipper.

Katherine seemed a bit uncomfortable. "So, uh, how about I show you where everything is? Unless you wanna unpack first?"

"Somme guidance would help, yes."

Now, there wasn't a lot to show. There was Mabel's yard, a linen closet, a supply closet for Baby's stuff, a pullout couch, a bathroom, and Mabel's office/craft room. That whole time, the tense feeling was there. And it was when he was showing her the yard that he said, "Look, I'm sorry for saying that in front of your kid. I'm sure that if you wanted to tell her about her older brother someday-"

"That thing isn't her older brother."

"Come again?"

"That thing is not her older brother. Lacy has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. If it wasn't for what happened back home, she wouldn't know about any of this, and neither would I. I know you don't believe me, I don't expect you to, but don't involve my daughter in this again." She went quiet for a couple of moments before asking, "So, they were a boy?"

"I actually wouldn't know. I just took a guess."

"Oh." Another moment of silence. "Honestly, I don't even know what they are. They had to put me under and operate on me. Said they didn't want me to suffer more than I already had. When I woke up, I was completely fine, completely healed like nothing happened. The trauma responses didn't even kick in for a month. The foundation should really share that medicine with the rest of the world."

"I'll look into it."

"No, you won't. I appreciate your help, but please don't make false promises stop asking questions, for now at least. Lacy might overhear."

"And I get that, but you have to understand that this is a lot to go through. Breaking through foundation amnestics is rare, it's not exactly a memory gun made in a garage. Plus, for you to be that girl? It's a lot. And, well, your daughter clearly already knew; being scared of scientists is instinctual."

"It's not because you're a scientist, it's because you're a man."

"What?"

"Lacy's been through a lot and the only man in her life to treat her with respect or decency was just brutally murdered in her own home. You and the Scarlet King are not the only monsters that exist. It would do you good to remember that."

"Right."

Lacy then came out of the house and into the yard, telling Katherine, "Mom! Ms. Pines said we can go to the pet store tomorrow if it's ok with you! Please, can we go?" She was holding Baby in her arms, the 15-pound sow piglet slipping from her arms as it snuffled. "

"Yeah, we can, honey-pie. Let me help you with that first though."

Dipper ended up walking back home. It wasn't far but it gave him time to think. Something about this didn't feel right. Everything seemed to add up, she wasn't some operative from the Chaos Insurgency or Serpent's Hand operative. But what was bothering him? It was when he was pondering why a seemingly neutralized SCP had a need for secrecy that he realized. Bill. Bill had mocked him with the implication that 231-7 was still some little girl being tortured at some black site day after day, not a full-grown woman who was living a normal life and making a normal family. She had been that little girl at one point, clearly, but that had changed. Was he seriously trusting Bill's word over what was right in front of him? Was he seriously falling for an ex-triangle's tricks?

With a single-minded determination, he went into the apartment building, rode up the elevator, and slammed his door open. "Bill!"

"What? I was napping." Bill swam out of his hide and looked at Dipper, "What is so important that I can't even sleep?"

He kicked the door closed and said "You're going to tell me everything you know about SCP-231-7."

"Kid, you're smart, you have context clues, you don't want to hear about that."

"Not the containment procedures. You're going to tell me everything about the entity that either inhabited or currently inhabits Katherine Stavros. You're going to tell me everything you know about the seventh daughter of the Scarlet King."

Bill stared at him with a true blank axolotl stare before responding only with, "Shit."

previous

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Part two of this. There may be one more part.

Slight content warning for vague but there child abuse

———————————-

Eddie doesn’t chase after Steve. To say what he does after he sits there blinking as the love of his life, his mate in all but bite, races out of their home would imply some sort of romantic grace. Nothing in what he does is graceful. The Beta bounces off walls, trips over shoes and fights for an agonizingly long time with the door knob. It’s the most nerve wracking thing Eddie has ever done, including but not limited to giving the lich king himself the middle finger before bashing his skull in with the Upside Down version of his warlock. He doesn’t even stop to apologize to Mrs Kendrick, the sweetest neighbor Eddie has ever had, when he nearly flattens her in his mad dash.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or terrified when he sees that Steve hasn’t left. That this frantic, terrible energy caught in his throat and gut won’t be released on the road. He slips into the passenger seat, whines low and mournful at the smell of sadness, of that broken snow globe smell that is thick as a hot box fog.

“Stevie, baby, sweetheart?”

Steve’s hands are still shaking. Brown eyes clenched closed. Eddie’s done this. Brought Steve to this point. He’s lucky Robin or Erica isn’t here. That Max and Eleven are clear across town. That Lucas and Will and Dustin are gods knows where enjoying the summer.

He reaches out, stops when Steve flinches away from him. Brings back his hand to his lap.

“I’m scared shitless, Stevie. Absolutely fucking terrified.”

Leather seats crinkle.

“That’s why I said what I did. And it’s not because of you. Well some of it is,” he’s trying not to ramble. Twisting his rings and talking. Wayne says that ooen communication is the key to any relationship. Eddie’s never been too good at that outside of sex.

“I had a shitty dad, and I know you had one too. I know you’re so goddamn confident that you can have those six nuggets and not become him. I know you know that loving your kid is unconditional. You do it for eight of them now.”

And it was eight. Because despite Holly managing to avoid the sheer terror that was Vecna round two she still fell into Steve’s orbit. Still wound up wrapping the gentle Alpha that is Steve around her finger. He loves his munchkins so goddamn much and they aren’t even his. It drives the traditionalist stereotypers up a wall and Eddie loves it. He loves how effortless Steve loves.

“But I’m not. He’s always in my head, Steve. When our pups do something, when Henderson says something. He’ll speak up. I think for a moment of the punishments that would have earned me. And I can see myself doing them. See myself turning on you when you try to stop me just like my mom.”

His mother was a mousy, sickly Beta woman that didn’t know what she was getting into marrying his angry Beta father.

“I don’t want to be him.”

Steve tentatively reaches out. Grabs one of Eddie’s hands.

“I’m not you know.”

“What?”

“Confident I won’t be like him. Like my dad. I’m terrified every time I look in the mirror that I’ll be like him. That I’ll be worse.”

He’s brought Eddie’s hand up to his face. He’s nuzzling it in a way that would make Frank Munson absolutely furious.

“I’m scared of so many things, Eds. But you turning out anything like your father isn’t one of them.”

Somehow, Eddie manages to coax Steve out of the car. To agree to calling in sick. It’s not fixed. Not yet. But they’re working on it and that’s what matters.

———————————-

Hoping this works

Tagging:

@xxbottlecapx

Now has a part three

[erinwantstowrite]

the sneak pics have me wondering why peter feel the need to keep apologizing all the time ? is it because adults used to get mad at him all the time ?

yeah he has a LOTTT of unpacking to do with that. he still thinks that because he did things like this, it gave the adults around him the excuse to yell at/say nasty things to him. peter goes into a lot of detail with Dick about his previous foster homes in chapter 15, and this time Dick knows he has to ask because Peter's response to Dick and Wally realizing he knew about the "glitches" in some way and didn't tell Dick is absolutely heartbreaking

[teapetal44]

TW: ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE

“He wants to air this dirty laundry to the world does he…? Dabi, you fiend…you’ve been waiting for this moment…when they couldn’t prevent mass destruction…and faith in heroes is wavering.” - chapter 292

I truly, wholeheartedly, believe that MHA as a story upholds the myth of the perfect victim. I do not want to discuss if Horikoshi did that on purpose, or subconsciously because of inner bias – I find no meaning in doing so. For me the execution of an idea, in the grand scheme of the narrative, holds more value than the intention of the author. I’ve also had my fair share of people infantilizing Asian authors in the anime community for their poor writing decisions for one lifetime. It’s patronizing to both the author and the people reading it. Whether or not Horikoshi intended for his themes of abuse to paint the picture they did does not matter, because that’s how it reads as.

MHA puts victims of abuse in narrow boxes and softly dictates what’s an acceptable reaction to said abuse. Victims are continuously walking a tightrope between being deserving of compassion and sympathy and being unredeemable monsters who are too far gone and are only good for martyrdom after being put down.  

Eri fits the clean cut depiction of abuse victims that media usually gears towards. She is untouched by the cruelty around her - she preserves her innocence and kindness. She isn't assertive, but rather meek and passive. She doesn't fight back with force. And when offered help, she is receptive to it. That is not to say that Eri's depiction doesn't have a place in fiction, or that her portrayal can't be representative of the experiences of some - as we all deal with trauma and the inhumanity people throw at us differently. We see the same thing in the portrayal of Fuyumi, who shares many of the qualities discussed above. The same thing applies to her - i personally love the idea of all the siblings having different reaction to their childhood trauma and abuse. It shows that victims are not some type of monolith.

But the narrative treats the "forgiving" or "receptive to help/support" victims of abuse with more grace and with much more kindness. if you are willing to forgive, or the very least be quietly tolerant, the story grants you a happy ending. Forgiveness isn't a bad thing, it is an individual choice - but an abuse victim shouldn't have to do it for them to have a happy ending.

In a vacuum Eri and Fuyumi's character arcs and depictions of abuse are good but it becomes a problem when that's the only experience and type of victim we ever hold in high value or recognize as valid and deserving of compassion. Which the story reinforces.

Touya and Tenko's backstories aren't pretty nor comfortable or easy to sit through. Their responses to abuse aren't either. Reactive abuse is very much real.

[bonefall]

Bones someone did a "Worst Parents" poll over on Twitter and it's going about as well as you'd expect.

"God people will do anything to hate on mentally ill male characters" and it's the guy who hits and yells at his son.

"Crowfeather's only crime was being a bit mean" hitting and humiliating your son= bit mean.

Yes these are things I've actually read

I'm not saying Curlfeather (who was pitted against him in the poll) is better or worse than Crowfeather, but I've seen a lot of people downplaying his abuse towards Breezepaw and acting like people are crazy for thinking Curlfeather was better

It's really wild to see it in action, isn't it? When a dad manipulates (Po3 book 2) and smacks his son (Po3 book 3) for absolutely no benefit besides his own ego, it's "mental illness" and ergo not a big deal. As if they think mental illness is a get-out-of-jail free card for child abuse.

The "Crowfeather Mental Illness" Crowd couldn't HANDLE the kind of mentally ill characters that I stan. They are weak and will not survive the winter.

When they say "stop being mean to boys with a disorder" they mean "stop holding an abusive father accountable for teaching his son slurs so he could get back at the ex-girlfriend who dumped him." When I say "stop being mean to boys with a disorder" I mean that I want to give Breezepelt a gun so he can enforce it himself. We are not the same.

[frownyalfred]

What if bruce had an abusive childhood ( i love thomas and martha but WHAT IF) and the batkids and clark just find out

I actually have lots of thoughts about this, anon. Not abusive in the sense of like, really overt hidden physical abuse, but the abusive-adjacent childhood of someone growing up into a ultra-wealthy family and all of the emotional distance and insane boundary crossing that happens in those kinds of situations.

Some initial thoughts (not that this is canon or even something I hc, but still pop up in my mind):

Distant parents (Bruce never saw them, except for when they were going to events together)

Bruce was raised by nannies and Alfred (first steps, diapers changed, fed and bathed, etc only by servants)

Strict behavioral expectations even in early childhood (language and music lessons, various etiquette courses for dinners, events, etc. Sitting still for long periods of time without moving or speaking)

Being ignored and/or referred to but not allowed to speak. Paraded out for events as a toy, essentially.

Missing out on childhood experiences like playing outside, getting dirty, playing with other children.

Being sent away from home at an early age to various boarding and preparatory schools, year-round.

The pathway to college, a job, a career was purchased for Bruce before he was even born, and there is no room to deviate from that path.

Punished for normal reactions (getting clothes dirty, making a mistake with cutlery, forgetting to ask permission for something)

Approval from his parents, when he does see them, is contingent upon how he performs for them while they are in public.

An absolute lack of almost any physical contact/affection.

If this was Bruce's childhood (I'm glad it wasn't in canon, it sounds awful) then his parents' deaths must be such a mindfuck. Because those memories are so tainted by his childhood upbringing, but at the same time -- were they good people? Beloved by the public? Was the show they put on in public convincing enough for people not to peek behind the curtain? Did Gotham society treat all ultra-wealthy children like this? Were the Waynes special because of their status?

How did Alfred feel about seeing this happen? Was there an awful feeling of relief when Martha and Thomas died, and he became Bruce's custodian? Maybe he snuck Bruce hugs over the years, here and there -- small cookies or permission to run outside once or twice.

Now, there are far fewer rules. But the damage from those rules is hard to undo, even at such a young age. And the first time Bruce asks him for a hug is the day that nearly breaks Alfred.

[weebsinstash]

(bnha/mha spoilers) i've still got attachments to the characters and still think of certain concepts and stuff for them and all that but like, are any of you feeling like BNHA is just going the exact same route as Naruto did where they spent the entire series talking about how cool heroes/ninjas are, then started discussing "but wait, not everything is as it seems! There's evil afoot, and not just any evil, SOCIALLY SYSTEMIC evil!" and then just completely shelved those discussions so the Hero could punch the Bad Guy in the face and then the series ends with everything being fundamentally exactly the same if not in some ways objectively worse

Like im sorry but looking at things thematically, if you told me Endeavor got off completely scott-free and his family still talks to him and he never even went to prison and still gets to keep his job as hero, but Shigaraki who was failed by society and literally poached and groomed as a child to become a villain while still forming bonds with his found family of other abused people and minorities is just KILLED AND DIES SMILING, I would say something like "oh is Horikoshi trying to make satirical commentary on how the broken corrupt system will fight like hell to uphold itself and this is actually metaphorical?" but nah it's just legitimately presented as a good thing and a good outcome

Genuinely? The way the series is ending is making me agree with Overhaul. If you think of Heroes and Quirks as a service or product, then tools can be invented to serve those same purposes. The way that Quirks developed in the universe of MHA is that they became used almost exclusively for combat based purposes, and to even use your quirk, which is also a part of your body or identity, you need special permissions and a license which I bet you costs money to apply for, so now you have the government regulating integral parts of people's identities, and also Quirks that change people's appearances are discriminated against and there aren't really any laws protecting against that

In a way, Overhaul was and still is entirely justified for thinking Quirks should be disposed of because the series is literally ending showing that Quirks are just being used to uphold government and corporate interests rather than actually do what's right? Quirks are literally increasing the severity with which humans can harm each other to the point it completely overshadows the good? Oh yeah I'm really glad we have a hero with super speed to help stop robberies, meanwhile the government has like a secret agent who is creating like nuke strikes on foreign countries, like... the good that Heroes can do? Can be easily done by humanity with tools

Like the way BNHA is ending is in my opinion, extremely dark? Deku was kind of just a clueless foot soldier upholding the dark government of his country and now All Might has no powers, Deku is gonna be Quirkless again, and everything is exactly the same? You could argue the only "win" that's coming out of the ending is that AFO is dead, but like.... someone with AFOs exact same powers could just be born again? Except maybe this time he can be, like, a government employee or a cop or something to really fit in with the core themes of the series :)

[antimony-medusa]

So what kind of a dad is q!Phil anyways?

So, Phil getting Tallulah and Chayanne to wear armour and learn how to fight. Also Bad doing this with Dapper, and the Brazilians trying to do this with Richas, and the french with Pomme, but when it gets discussed, it's mostly focusing on Phil because of the contrast of Wilbur not wanting his kids to have to fight. There's some really fun discussion that comes up with that!

And the interesting thing is that when we're trying to pull up other cultural touchpoints to compare phil-and-fighting-and-the-kids to, a lot of the other characters have very specific vibes, so to speak. I was in a discussion the other day where someone compared Phil in this with the dad in Supernatural, and him getting his sons to follow him on hunts. Cause he's a dad training his kids to fight, right? From a very young age? However, I don't think this is a perfect comparison, and I wanted to share the one that comes to mind for me, despite the fact that it deals with some pretty dark topics. This whole post deals with some dark topics, you might want to check the tags, just so you know.

Anyways, I never watched Supernatural, so I didn't do much more than think emoji in the moment when this comparison came up. But I checked in with friends who have watched it, and I think Phil QSMP and John Winchester Supernatural are acting from some pretty different places. John Supernatural is teaching his kids to fight because they have a duty and a lineage and have to help save the world, but at the same time there's this tragedy there that implies that he's so focused on his duty as a hunter that he's not seeing that maybe you don't need the kids for that. They could start when they were older—or maybe they could not start this! He essentially conscripts them into a battle that shapes the course of their lives, as little warriors, and they never have a choice in it. And he's not above using them as bait, because they're warriors, right? The battle is so important? They want to be involved, they want this (of course they want this, you're their dad, and they believe you that this is important). He's a true believer.

Whereas Phil is faced with a world that actively and constantly wants to kill his kids, and he's trying to train them to defend themselves. He's trying to say that there's danger out there, you take care of yourself, I'm going to put myself on the line for you, but if I fail, if I'm not there, you won't be defenseless if it comes down to it. I have had my beef with fics that take on this topic, in fact, because I've seen people write Phil as using his kids as bait to get to the codes or forgetting his kids in his code battle, and that's not how I interpret the character motivattion and actions. For me, the way I see it, Phil is always thinking of how best to defend the eggs, and everything else is in service to this. He's a man with anxiety on an island that wants to kill his kids, not a warrior in an epic battle.

Does this mean that the eggs are gonna grow up and go to therapy about their childhood full of danger? Hell yeah they wll. This is not an ideal childhood. But�� and this is the crucial thing— they're going to grow up. Same with Dapper, same with Richas, same with Pomme— living your life under constant need to teleport out to safety is bad, objectively, but when the alternative is living in the moment until you die, I think the teleporting out is better, actually.

And the comparison that comes to mind for me, because of my personal experience, is not examples in media of parents training their kids to fight, but examples in media or in real life of parents dealing with serious and or terminal illness in kids. Cause that's what my family did. And boy is there resonance there.

I don't know of any parent of a kid with cancer who likes putting their kid through treatment. Chemotherapy sucks, radiation sucks, surgery sucks, immunotherapy sucks, none of this is good. I have seen this tear up parents (and siblings) inside. But it's better than letting their kids DIE, isn't it? And before you say well, obviously everyone is on the same page when it comes to things like chemotherapy, I have *seen* people go out there and post at cancer families about how they can't believe they're putting poison in their children's bodies when they should just eat better, etc. (This take reminds me strongly of the "she shoudln't wear armour cause she shouldn't have to fight" take about Tallulah.) Serious illness in kids forces you into terrible situations, but the only saving grace is that they're better than the alternative, you hope.

The only thing that makes me go ehhhhh maybe with Phil and the Mr Supernatural is him letting Chayanne fight, but Chayanne is a kid being hunted whose sister (also being hunted) is disabled, and this happens whether or not Chayanne is involved, and he wants to try and defend her so bad. I don't think saying "let her die if necessary, don't intervene" is going to be a conversation that ends up with less trauma, if you know what I mean. That is simply a situation that has no real win conditions out of it. At least this way he feels like he has some control? (Note: this is a bad situation, there's no getting around it.)

QSMP is so often a story about forces beyond our control trying to destroy us, and while Supernatural and its ilk also has that tone, within Supernatural there's at least a population that doesn't have to be part of the battle, so opting into the battle becomes on some level a choice, and involving children in that is also a choice, one that you can hold up to the standards of allowing children to have a childhood and go "is this ethical". On Quesadilla island, there's literally no opting out of this fight. There are malevolent forces that are directly trying to destroy you, destroy your children, and the question of allowing children to have a childhood has been effectively taken out of your hands. You simply have to do the best with the situation you have, and have a birthday party while keeping the armour on. And this reminds me much more strongly of situations like childhood cancer, than it does of cases in media of people concripting their children into battle.

In both cases children are trying to fight malevolent entities that want them dead, as pushed to fight by their parents, but boy, at least to me, the tone is pretty different. I think the question of "is it self defense or did you choose to be here" is pretty important.

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 31 - Asking For Help

title: for him it was not an important failure

fandom: limited life smp

cw: discussion of child/spouse abuse, murder

this is another part of my bad boys gang au, continuing days 6, 14, and 22!

~

“Hey, could I—”

“Jimmy!” Joel cheers, sliding Jimmy his half-drunk beer. “Have a drink! You’re old enough to drink, right?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Right. That one never gets old.”

Grian snorts. “Just like you.”

“Dude, shut up!”

“Come on, sit down, sit down,” Joel waves. Jimmy takes a look around at the rest of the busy bar, then slides into their booth, folding his hands in front of him.

“I’ve got—”

Grian raises a hand, flags down a waiter who just happens to be passing by. “Yeah, could you get him something light? It’s his birthday, first time drinking—”

“Bro,” Jimmy growls, leveling his strongest glare at Grian. Joel almost chokes on his beer (which he had promptly taken back once Jimmy sat down).

“Oh, no, I think you made the kid mad,” Joel can’t help but rib. Jimmy turns his glare on Joel, which does nothing to intimidate him, but does make him laugh a little harder.

“I didn’t come here to get bullied,” huffs Jimmy. “I—I have a job, and I wanted to ask your help for it.”

A job? Why would Jimmy have a job?

Grian’s the one who usually brings back the jobs for their little team, as he’s technically in charge of them. Jimmy’s never just showed up with a job ready to go.

It’s unheard of. It’s weird.

Grian is just as confused as Joel, apparently, because he only frowns for a moment before holding out his hand.

“Yeah, right. Show me.”

Jimmy pulls a plain white envelope out of the inside pocket of his jean jacket, passes it over to Grian. “I asked for a job,” he says, and Joel can’t help but notice that his voice has taken on an oddly nervous tone, lowered to not be heard over the sounds of the bar. “They said I could pick a team. Will you?”

Grian opens the envelope, his eyes scanning the paper. After a moment, he passes it to Joel.

It looks like a run-of-the-mill intimidation job. Some guy who owes the Bad Boys a considerable amount of money, has already missed more than one payment. Joel doesn’t recognize the name, so it’s probably a local politician or some corrupt businessman.

“Why would they give you a job?” Grian asks.

“I—I asked for one. I want to—”

“You want to rise in the ranks, huh?” Grian says. “Leave your old pals behind for greener pastures?”

“No, I—”

“Joel?”

There’s something not quite right about this. Jimmy has never mentioned wanting to lead out a job before—why would he go out of his way to ask for one?

But a job is a job, Joel supposes. They get paid by the job, and he likes to get paid as much as possible. It looks pretty easy, in and out, get the money and give a warning.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “Sounds fun!”

“With Tim leading, it’ll be a trainwreck. . . .”

“Hey!”

“That’s half the point, see? I want to see the train explode in slow motion.”

Grian snorts. “And somebody has to drag your bodies out of the wreckage, I guess.”

Jimmy opens his mouth to argue further, but he’s cut off by several waiters approaching, a cocktail and a cupcake in hand. “We heard that someone here is a birthday boy?” one of them encourages, holding the cupcake out to the table.

Jimmy’s face goes redder than a tomato in one second flat. “Grian, I will kill you,” he moans.

“That’s him!” Joel points to Jimmy delightedly. “Old enough to drink as of ten-thirty this morning!”

The waiters break into a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’, despite Jimmy’s repeated mutterings of “I’m literally twenty-two!”

Joel just laughs and downs the rest of his beer.

-

The mark, a man named Ed Fowler, lives in a townhouse in a quiet part of the city, a moderately nice car in the assigned street parking spot and a recycling bin out on the curb. Joel pokes his head into it as they sneak past, under cover of the late night—empty. The guy must’ve forgot to drag it up yesterday.

Breaking into the house is easy, even with the security system advertised on the sign outside the main window. Ed had left his kitchen window cracked, and Joel boosts Grian up and through it, then crawls in himself, aided by Jimmy below. Once he’s crawled his way over the sink (full of dirty dishes, geez, can this man not clean up after himself?), he turns around and takes Jimmy’s hands, heaving him through.

Grian’s already going through the cupboards by the time Joel pulls Jimmy all the way through, eventually finding and withdrawing a box of Cheerios.

“No good cereal,” he grumbles.

“Do you even eat dinner before these kinds of jobs anymore?” Joel asks, leaning up against a counter—much of the counter space is taken up by a microwave and a couple of empty beer cans. There’s a tied-off, bulging trash bag near his feet, and judging by the sound it makes when Joel kicks it, it’s full of more beer cans.

Grian opens the fridge. “Nope. Oh, gross, his milk is expired. Maybe he’s got chicken nuggets.”

“I’m gonna check the living room,” Jimmy mumbles, and with barely a sound, he slips out of the kitchen.

Grian glances at Joel, and Joel finds a reflection of his own feelings in his face—confusion, concern, suspicion.

“Jimmy’s being weird,” Joel says. Grian nods.

“Super weird. Do you think it’s just . . . y’know, leading a job?”

Jimmy had been the one to scout out the house, had presented a plan. Sure, it had been the usual plan for how Grian ran these kinds of jobs, but being in charge is a lot of pressure. It probably didn’t help that Joel and Grian had both been teasing him all day about it.

“What time have you got?” Joel asks, instead of responding. Grian checks his watch.

“About two in the morning. Just jitters, you think?”

Jimmy doesn’t go quiet when he gets jittery, though. He over-talks, laughs too much, hollers out his nerves. He’s so loud when he’s got jitters.

But this is a new situation. Maybe this is just a new kind of Jimmy Jitters that they haven’t seen before.

“Yeah, probably,” says Joel, though it feels not-quite-right. “Does he have any chicken nuggets?”

“Chicken strips, actually. And a handful of frozen dinners—you wanna pop this in the microwave?”

Grian tosses him a freezer meal. Joel raises an eyebrow as he examines the package. “Really? Spaghetti and meatballs?”

“You underestimate my love for pasta.”

“Yeah, but the salisbury steak ones are way better.”

“He doesn’t have any of those, he has that one and some ham and potato ones. Clearly, I chose the best option offered.”

They aren’t trying to be quiet. They’re honestly being pretty loud, and Grian turned on the kitchen light before Joel even got in, so they’re about as inconspicuous as a pack of drunk teenagers trying to sneak in. Joel only adds to it when he rummages through the silverware drawer for a knife to cut slits in the top of the frozen dinner’s plastic film, then tosses it in the microwave with a slam of the door.

It isn’t a stealth mission.

It’s intimidation.

That’s all the noise it takes for Joel to hear creaking coming from the staircase, the door leading to it situated between the kitchen and the living room. He leans back against the counter, making sure he looks carefully unbothered. Grian keeps rummaging through the freezer, making occasional noises of disapproval.

“This salmon has got to be centuries old, it’s covered in ice,” Grian says. He chucks it in the nearby trash can, heavy enough that it drags the trashbag down with it into the can.

“Get out of my house.” Joel looks up. Grian doesn’t.

The man standing at the bottom of the staircase must be Ed Fowler, and he isn’t exactly what Joel expected. Judging by the food and beer cans, he’d expected a portly, greasy guy, the kind of guy who spent hours in front of the TV without eating a single vegetable.

Ed Fowler is fairly fit, his grey nightshirt showing some pectoral definition, his arms muscular. He’s a big guy, definitely taller than Joel, and his light-brown hair is speckled with grey, cropped short enough to almost be militant.

And maybe it is militant, given the steely look in his eyes and the gun in his hands.

“G! Three makes company!” Joel says, and Grian makes brief eye contact with him, his sight of Ed blocked by the freezer door.

Three makes company—their code for whether or not someone has a gun. They haven’t used that one in a while, not since Jimmy joined them. Now they usually say something like our friend is here, but for some reason Joel had jumped to the old one.

Ed doesn’t move, his gun trained on Joel.

“Ed Fowler,” Joel says. The microwave beeps beside him. He ignores it, though Ed’s eyes flick toward it. “How long has it been since you washed dishes?”

Ed’s chuckle is humorless. “Too long. What do you boys want?”

Grian grimaces. “Look, I know Joel’s not that tall, but we’re fully adult men,” he says, closing the freezer. He still doesn’t look at Ed, instead walking back toward the silverware drawer, holding a frosted-over carton of ice cream. “Got any clean spoons?”

“Right. I suppose I should say Bad Boys,” Ed says. “Why are you here?”

Grian shrugs nonchalantly. “Oh, you know. We get a job, we do it. I think the question is for you, Ed—why would the Bad Boys be at your house at two in the morning?”

Ed looks genuinely confused, though he hides it well with a small smirk. “I’m guessing it isn’t a booty call,” he jokes, and Joel almost laughs.

This guy is pretty cool, actually. The kind of guy that Joel would grab a drink with, probably. Well, maybe. Depends on his profession—his build kind of looks like a cop, and that’s a red flag from the get-go.

Where’s Jimmy? He was only going to check the living room, it can’t have taken too much time.

Last time Jimmy went missing during a house visit like this, it wasn’t pretty.

The microwave beeps again. Another minute that he hasn’t appeared.

“You’ve missed some payments,” Grian says, his tone still casual. He manages to find a spoon, but the ice cream is so frozen solid that it won’t even dig in. He chips away at it, finally turns to face Ed. “The boss sent us to collect.”

“I haven’t owed the Bad Boys anything in years.”

Joel shrugs. “Not according to our records. Nothing we can do about it, so you might as well fork something over.” Now that Grian has eyes on Ed, he turns to the microwave, popping it open. The freezer meal looks more unappetizing than it did earlier, but he pulls it out anyway.

“That’s stupid,” Ed spits. “I don’t have any debts!”

“Yes, you do.”

Joel looks up.

There’s a gun just in sight, pointed straight at Ed’s temple, and Jimmy takes a step into the light, eyes trained on Ed.

Ed’s eyes glance to the side. His face turns red quicker than Joel’s ever seen, cheeks suddenly ruddy with anger.

“James,” he says, and despite the clear rage in his face, his voice is calm. “Put the gun down.”

James? Does this man know Jimmy?

If he does, then Jimmy never should have accepted this job. It’s an unspoken rule in the Bad Boys that you don’t do jobs that involve people from your personal life, and Jimmy knows that well enough.

Jimmy doesn’t move. His hand is steady. “I don’t think so,” he says. “I think this is when you put the gun down.”

Ed’s fingers tighten around the grip of his gun. “What, and leave myself defenseless?”

Jimmy laughs—short, sharp, ugly. “Yep. Drop it. Kick it over to Grian.”

Joel glances at Grian—he’s gone still, the ice cream forgotten on the counter. He’s staring, staring at Jimmy, worry creasing his brow.

This isn’t right. Something about this isn’t right at all—maybe it’s the cold tone of Jimmy’s voice, usually so lively; maybe it’s the whitening of his knuckles around the grip of his gun.

After a long, long moment, Ed slowly drops into a crouch, carefully setting his gun on the ground. He pushes it to Grian, the gun skittering across the tile floor of the kitchen. Grian catches it under his foot, but makes no move to pick it up.

When Ed straightens, he keeps his hands up and open, so that everyone can see that there’s nothing. “All right,” he says, voice once again even. “How much do I owe?”

“Twenty-thousand,” Joel says quickly. “That’s the first payment. Seventy-thousand, total.”

“Right. Well, I want it made clear that I don’t owe anything, but I’ll cut a check for fifteen-thousand now if you can arrange a meeting with one of your bosses. I want to get this cleared up.”

That sounds good to Joel, honestly—this situation isn’t right at all with the way Jimmy’s acting, he suddenly wants to get out of here—so he casts a look toward Grian, waiting for him to accept the deal.

Grian doesn’t say a word. He looks toward Jimmy.

Oh, no.

Jimmy’s leading this mission.

Can’t Grian take over? Doesn’t he see that Jimmy is clearly acting on some personal grudge and thereby compromised?

Jimmy doesn’t look at either of them. “I don’t think that’ll cut it,” he says, and Joel’s heart sinks. That isn’t the right choice to make; he’s letting his emotions get in the way of this job. He should accept it and let them get out. “I think you know that.”

Ed growls. “Look, I can get the money. I just want to talk to your boss.”

“I don’t want the money, though,” Jimmy says softly. “I know you don’t owe anything.”

“James—”

“Jimmy—” Grian says, reaching forward—

“I want you to talk to me like a grown man,” Ed says. “Can you behave long enough to do that?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jimmy says, as if he didn’t hear either of them speak, voice still so eerily soft. “You see?”

Ed’s adam’s apple bobs. “If you do it like that, you’re nothing but a coward. Sit down and talk.”

“I’ll do it as a coward. I don’t care how disappointed you are in me. Not anymore.”

Joel swallows. They need to get Jimmy out of here before he does something he regrets—yeah, all of them have killed before, but not like this. Not as whatever—whatever revenge this is.

“Grian,” he whispers. “Tell him to stand down.”

Grian doesn’t say anything.

“James,” Ed says, and now his voice trembles, cracks in his cool facade beginning to spiderweb out. His eyes dart back and forth between Grian in front of him and Jimmy to his left, his mouth a thin line. “James, put the gun down and let’s talk about it. I’m not ready to die today.”

That’s the wrong thing to say.

Joel sees it in Jimmy’s face, the way his features darken, the way his eyes harden. “Was she ready to die?” he asks.

“I—”

“Was she ready to die? The doctor said the hemorrhage was caused by recent head trauma.” Jimmy digs the gun into Ed’s forehead; the man blanches. “Which concussion do you think caused it? How many times did you slam her head against the wall over the years?”

“I didn’t kill—”

“Was I ready to die?” Jimmy asks, and his voice is shaking now, as well. “How old was I, fifteen? A kid that you left bleeding out on your bedroom floor. Do you know that I thought of her? I was dying, and all I wondered was if she felt the same way. Alone. Terrified. Sick.”

“Yet you survived,” Ed spits. “James, I didn’t kill your mother.”

“Keep telling yourself that. It won’t save you, in the end.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

When Jimmy was only eighteen, Joel had become fairly certain that Jimmy was experiencing some level of abuse at home. He and Grian had started slipping extra bonuses into Jimmy’s money (he remembers how excited the kid had been, showing them that he was getting paid more than he expected), and when Jimmy had announced to them that he was going to be able to afford an apartment, they celebrated with him. They bought him a tiny cactus as a housewarming gift and never mentioned their involvement in his pay raise.

After he got the apartment, Jimmy finally started to mellow out. He started laughing more, blaming himself less for mistakes, getting control of the anger that burned within him.

He had stopped showing up after every weekend with new bruises.

If Joel’s right, this man is his father.

Now that he’s made that connection, he can see the resemblance. Jimmy’s hair is just a couple shades lighter than Ed’s, his nose the same sharp angle. Ed’s eyes are the exact same hazel as Jimmy’s, and if there were a few more lights on, Joel expects he would find the same light freckles on Ed’s cheeks that Jimmy has.

He—he thought this man was cool mere moments ago. He almost laughed at his joke.

This is a man who abused Jimmy, and—apparently—almost killed him.

Joel feels sick, and it isn’t from the the smell of the microwave dinner.

“You don’t want to kill me,” Ed says. It might be a threat, it might be a beg. Jimmy laughs again, still that horrible, ugly laugh that’s so unlike Jimmy.

“I’ve wanted to kill you since I was fourteen,” he says. “Lizzie’s the only thing that kept me from shooting you in your sleep.”

Ed latches onto that. “Elizabeth wouldn’t want you to—”

“Lizzie isn’t here right now. She’s sound asleep in the apartment that I saved up for for years to get us out. I got her away from you. I saved her.”

“I’m not the monster that you think I am, James.”

“What, so you’re normal?” Jimmy scoffs. His words come faster and faster, emotion driving each syllable. “Normal people don’t choke nine year old boys until they pass out. Normal people don’t—don’t put their cigarettes out on their kids’ backs. Normal people don’t hurt their kids, dad!”

“I—and what does that make you, now?” says Ed. “A gangster? How is that any better?”

“Anything’s better than a wife-beating cop,” Jimmy snarls, and for a moment, his hand shakes. The gun slips from Ed’s forehead briefly, scrapes down the side of his face, and Ed freezes.

“James—”

Jimmy reasserts his hold on the gun, one thumb running over the grip. “This is your gun,” he says, his voice soft again. It’s scary, how quickly he can go from one to the other. “E.J.F., your initials. You gave it to me. Remember?”

“James—” Ed says again, but Jimmy cuts him off.

“I want to make it hurt. I want to watch you bleed out. But I’m better than you.”

Silence.

A bit of ice drips off the ice cream carton.

Joel hardly dares to breathe.

“Please don’t kill me,” Ed whispers, the blood entirely drained from his face, leaving it pale as milk. “I don’t want to die.”

Jimmy’s face doesn’t change. “Neither did my mom.”

BANG.

-

For Jimmy, the job was surprisingly well-executed.

As it turned out, he had gone to TIES.

He had approached Etho of TIES six months earlier, presenting him with a fat file folder of evidence of Ed Fowler’s corruption. Ed Fowler, a high-ranking police officer, was known to take bribes from certain less-reputable gangs while borrowing money from those less likely to kill him, including TIES. In fact, he had borrowed sufficiently from TIES that Etho felt justified in sending someone to collect. He gave Jimmy the details and Jimmy forged the handwriting of a higher-up in the Bad Boys to write out the job. While in the living room of the townhouse that Joel now knew to be Jimmy’s childhood home, he had disabled any security systems or cameras that might incriminate them.

With Etho’s permission, as Jimmy claimed, they ransacked the place and made it look like TIES had destroyed it looking for money. Of course, they took any money and valuables they could find. Joel found a couple of very nice guns in the master bedroom—he wasn’t just going to let them go to waste.

(He looked at the floor, at the stained brown carpet, and shuddered.)

By the time they leave, it’s almost four. Nobody speaks, but that morning, for the first time, Jimmy pulls up GPS navigation to an apartment address on the other side of the city.

They walk into Jimmy’s apartment at around five in the morning, the pink-haired woman living there already awake. She and Jimmy make long eye contact, in which Jimmy kind of shrugs and blushes, and she frowns.

Then she smiles, and invites them all in, and introduces herself as Lizzie Fowler.

Joel pays more attention to Jimmy than he does to her, keeping an eye on his emotions, but Jimmy seems fine. A bit shaken (he’s barely spoken since he did it, face pale and blood spattered across his knuckles), but fine.

Lizzie and Jimmy go about preparing something to eat—and Grian raids their cereal, humming in satisfaction as he finds something sugary—and Joel just stands awkwardly in the center of the kitchen, not sure what to do.

Soon enough, the eggs and toast are done, and everyone retires to the living room.

“Thanks for the help,” Jimmy mumbles, once they all have some sort of breakfast item in hand, and Jimmy’s sitting between Grian and Joel on the cheap sofa, his head leaning on Grian’s shoulder. Lizzie’s on the floor in front of him, her back against the sofa, idly picking at Jimmy’s pant leg.

“I don’t think we did anything, Tim,” Grian tells him, idly running a hand through Jimmy’s hair. “Like, that was all you.”

“Not that.”

Jimmy’s at the most relaxed Joel’s ever seen him, his eyelids fluttering, his shoulders slumped. He yawns, leans further against Grian.

Joel wraps an arm around him, leans in as well.

Grian smiles at Joel when he catches his eye. Joel smiles back.

They can reprimand Jimmy later. They can tell him how foolish he was for getting other gangs involved in personal revenge, how terribly that situation could have ended. He’ll probably be getting suspended from jobs for a while, restricted to manning the front or janitorial duties.

That can wait, though.

The sparse living room grows lighter and lighter as the sun breaks over the horizon, gradually bathing them all in its warm yellow glow.

It’s a new beginning that isn’t for him. It’s for Jimmy and Lizzie, almost uncomfortable in their silence, but not quite leaving each other’s side. It’s for Jimmy, a release of the weight that he’s been carrying for years. It’s for Jimmy, able to seek out comfort at last.

Joel just has the privilege of witnessing it.

[crimeronan]

Any chance you'd drop the terrible Lunter premise since we can't find it now anyway? 🤲🤲🤲

LMAO. GOD.

the premise was actually pretty simple and solid and i Do stand by it. so if you happen to find a completed anon-posted fic many many moons from now with this plot that sounds like me.... well. what are you doing at the devil's sacrament.

kikimora snitches on hunter after hunting palismen. belos, in a not-so-rare moment of Creepy Luz-Related Magnanimity, is like, "oh, excellent. hunter has fallen in love with a human" (he has not) "and therefore has achieved what every grimwalker before him failed to do. this will work out Great if i can just get her to Behave"

so he has luz kidnapped. while also being like. ha ha hunter!! i know you're ready to betray me at the drop of a hat and if you do anything to try to help your paramour i will consider it another betrayal and there will be Consequences ! 💕

anyway. WILDLY unhappy E-rated horror fic where hunter and luz are both having The Worst Time Ever, In Different Ways. i figure if i ever write it all at once and post it again then i'll have them get rescued eventually, but until then they just have. the worst most fraught coerced emotional blackmail relationship you can Possibly Imagine.

[dragimal]

the great (horrifying) thing about supernatural horror involving little kids is the underlying thread of helplessness that isn't really present with adult characters/stories

like with Skinamarink, we could debate whether the happenings of the film are physically "happening" or whether they're a metaphor for something more realistic (like child abuse/neglect), but at the end of the day the result is the same: these kids are 100% completely powerless

to a kid, an omnipotent god-entity is at the same level of confusing and powerful as a particularly cruel adult. without any way to call for help (or any way to get adults to listen to them), they're fucked either way. this is especially true if the kid is too young to have really internalized "rules of reality" yet-- they don't know how the world is "supposed" to work yet, so they prolly won't pick up on subtle spacial/metaphysical fuckery. they just know that they're scared and hurt and confused, and no one is around to help them

it rly puts into perspective the kinda world kids are forced to navigate, esp when we don't take the time to meet them at their level or care to listen to them. and, alternately, I think it also serves as an interesting way to view cosmic horror-- entities that often overlook the gaps in our perspectives and don't (or maybe can't) properly explain their motives or actions, and have the power to wreak devastating trauma on us if they have the inclination

[paingoes]

Rubies

Waiting Room

hello! so i actually wrote this a while back but couldn’t think of a right time to post it. this takes place on the same day as First Base, but it’s a different POV!

(Content: living weapon whumpee, discussions of war and child soldiers, implied child abuse, dehumanization)

“I’ve got it,” Kitty made a little circle with her fingers. O.K. They were escorted away before Apollo could respond.

“Okay. I’m gonna go…beg for his life, I guess,” Apollo said into the empty space she’d just been standing in.

“I’ll go with you,” Iza piped up. At least she didn’t leave him hanging. Apollo was surprised by her eagerness, but he knew it was the correct move on her part. It’d be better to seek Levon out than the other way around. He would not react well if he felt he’d had to catch them.

For better or worse, it did not take long for their paths to intersect. Levon was already out in the hall. One woman from the counsel hung by his side. They spoke in low tones. She was one of the few people on base that matched Levon in age and in history. She shot the two of them a dirty look as they approached.

“Oh, speak of the devil.” Levon lifted his hands up in greeting, a sardonic smile appearing upon his face. He couldn’t hold it any longer then a second. His expression quickly fell back into its fatigue state. Not exactly angry, but clearly not pleased. The woman slipped off into the shadows, patting him lightly on the back before she departed. 

“It’s my fault,” Apollo put himself between Levon and Iza. “I take full responsibility.”

“Not how it works, kiddo. Chain of command.” Levon looked straight past him.

Iza did not say anything in her own defense. Levon shot her a curious look. It had meant something that she’d come to find him and that she had not come to argue the point. It was a good start. They could talk later. They would.

But Apollo clearly needed a wall to throw himself against. Levon started to move down the hall again. He wasn’t totally shutting him out, but he had better make his point quick. He’d had it so rehearsed before, but the words sounded hurried this time, more uncertain than ever. 

“Captain, it’s not his fault. You understand that. He didn’t have a choice. It’s not fair to punish him for what Empire did. You can’t hold that against him. You won’t, right? What we did, it has nothing to do with him. He didn’t know. He still doesn’t know. He just woke up. He-“

Levon held up a hand, “I thought you had a powerpoint.”

“I do,” Apollo admitted, “I can go get it if you give me five minutes.”

“That’s alright.”

“Captain!” Apollo hissed. They’d already arrived just outside of the ward. 

“Please don’t hurt him.”

It was such an earnest and simple request that Levon’s resolve momentarily cracked.

“Take it easy. Whatever I decide, I’m not going to do it right now. Save your breath.”

“He’s scared, Levon.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re not the only person in the world who knows right from wrong? That I might actually know what I’m doing?”

Apollo shut up. Iza put a hand on his shoulder, both to steady him and to pull him back. Levon signaled to the medical staff to clear out just before he stepped into Delta’s room.

==========

Levon stepped back out into the lobby, shutting the door quickly behind him. There was a deep unhappiness in his features.

Apollo’s face was marred with concern. It had been for as long as he had waited there. But as he caught sight of Levon’s haunted expression, it slipped into a barely suppressed smugness. I told you so.

In the same way, Levon’s horror flickered briefly into exasperation as the two made eye contact.

“You didn’t say he was a baby,” Levon insisted. He realized instantly that the effect would be lost on Apollo. Levon often felt that he was surrounded by children. He maintained his own inner circle, each of them tending to their own sector, but all the rank and file skewed young. Apollo was no exception to this, hardly tipping twenty four, but then Apollo’s career had just begun. Delta’s star had been burning ever since he was a child.

Levon forgot any thoughts of penalty. He couldn’t reasonably hold him accountable for things he had done as a child. Delta was a ward of Empire. It was their fault. 

Apollo searched Levon’s expression, still seeming a bit too satisfied with himself.

“You’re not off the hook,” Levon told him.

“I know, Captain,” he said mildly, “Is he?”

Levon leaned against the wall. He palmed at his forehead in hopes of relieving the tension building up there.

“I don’t understand the child soldier thing. I’ve never understood it. Why? Is there that much of a shortage that they can’t fish from the adult pool anymore? What purpose does it serve?” Levon didn’t hide his disgust. Empire already recruited teenagers as a matter of policy, but there had been more and more reports of them dipping even lower. He’d gotten reports of combatants as fresh as twelve stumbling blindly into enemy territory. They’d be found limping and with blisters from where their oversized boots had rubbed them raw. They had to be carried out.

Iza spoke up. Levon was surprised to hear her speak. She’d been hanging back, trying to make herself unseen, as if he might bite her. 

“Kids have more raw psychic talent than adults. They lose it as they get older. It’s rare

you find someone who’s been trained enough to carry their abilities into adulthood. You need to start them young,” she mused.

The clarity with which she spoke of it was incriminating.

“Tell me the truth,” Levon said, “Did you know?”

“We suspected,” Apollo admitted, “Strongly.”

“And what? You wanted it for yourself?” 

“No.“ Apollo’s voice got all pitchy, the way it did when he was upset. “How can you even think that?”

“You?” Levon ignored his indignation, turning his gaze to Iza.

“Me?” Iza asked. She let some softness creep into her voice, “I didn’t want anything. I thought it would be a good experiment. I thought you might get something out of it. But I knew you’d never want to use it, not the way they did. I know you.”

Levon relaxed in a way that was barely observable. He took a deep breath.

“You are very, very lucky this didn’t go worse. Do I even have to tell you all the nightmare scenarios that could have unfolded instead? If you had gotten caught? If he had detonated? The standard response for this kind of insubordination is automatic and permanent dismissal. Were you aware of that?”

Neither of them answered. It was a wise thing to do.

“However.” Levon continued. “Things are about to get very, very bad for us. Early reports say the civil war is over. The prince’s staff sold him out. Nezu is preparing to be coronated and he now runs unopposed. We will not have the advantage of a divided Empire anymore. All the heat is going to be on us. For that reason, I’m disinclined to let you go entirely.”

Again, neither of them spoke. Apollo put all his energy into keeping his face neutral.

“…Thank you.” Iza’s voice was low. 

“Don’t,” Levon denied the moment, “I haven’t decided what I’m doing with you yet. All I’m saying is you’re not kicked out. What I do might be worse. You — you are going to go apologize to him for putting him in this situation.”

“I will!” Apollo answered quickly, “I mean, I did. But I’ll do it again. He’s okay, right? You’re not gonna do anything to him?”

“He’s fine,” Levon waved his hand, “Don’t worry about it.”

Apollo looked as though he might collapse on the spot. All the tension that had been holding him up was not depleted. He was relieved, but more than that, he was exhausted. Stress was going to take all of them out before Empire ever could.

…………

tags:

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

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

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @pigeonwhumps

[the-thirteenth-prime]

A slightly unhinged ramble-rant on Chairman Rose and how people are missing the entire point of SWSH.

Like, I keep seeing it pop up--like a fucking rank smell you only detect if you’re in a certain place when the wind is blowing in the certain direction--but man does it not bewilder me. Like, these guys who post tags like ‘Chairman Rose is a bad guy but is not a BAD guy’ or ‘I kind of agreed with Chairman Rose’ are just. Are you high?? Did you entirely miss the point of his character?? Did you completely miss the main plot of SWSH?

I’m going to be talking about some heavy shit (including non-sexual child grooming and non-sexual child predation), so I’m gonna put the rest under a read more, let me just say that the theme of SWSH is the relationship between adults and children on their Pokemon journeys, the responsibilities adults have towards children, and what happens when that relationship is abused.

First off, before I get some know-it-all coming at me about how there’s no evidence that Rose is a child predator or a groomer, let me just say there is. Is he a Chris Hansen ‘take a seat for me’ groomer?? No, he’s not, because child grooming is not purely a sexual thing.

Per a very informative article:

“Grooming can be sexual, romantic, financial or for criminal or terrorism purposes, and can target both children and adults. The common aspect is that a perpetrator manipulates a victim by building trust and rapport. The key to grooming is a power dynamic within the relationship: age, gender, physical strength, economic status or another factor.”

Now, with that out of the way, I’m not going to go into shit that’s super obvious to anyone with eyes, but Rose is a serial child groomer. Like, his most obvious victim is Leon, and it’s really wild that people can’t see it?? Like, Leon obviously comes from a fucked-up home situation with a mother who’s absent and neglectful at best (and the people who don’t seem to realize this REALLY confuse me). Like, he has canonically raised his little brother in a house with three adults that could have done the job for him, and the anime literally stated that he was so busy raising Hop and taking care of household chores that he could barely interact with other kids. He was endorsed by Chairman Rose at an age that is implied to be at least two years younger than the average Gym Challenger, and--per the sub of the PokeAni--Rose literally raised him from the moment he became Champion.

(Where was Leon and Hop’s mother during this, you ask? Obviously being terrible at home, since despite Leon being run ragged for all of his life and rarely being home, he still somehow raised his little brother. Let that sink in.)

So Leon has spent his entire life being moulded into Rose’s delusion of the Hero of Galar for the sole purpose of sacrificing himself to defeat Eternatus to stave off an energy crisis that will happen in a millennium and probably would be averted with solar power. THE SUB IN THE POKEANI LITEARLLY HAS ROSE TELLING LEON THAT HE HAS GROOMED HIM FOR THE EXACT PURPOSE OF TAMING ETERNATUS. I’M NOT MAKING THIS UP. I WILL PROVIDE SCREENSHOTS IF ASKED.

Does he know Leon may likely fucking die in the attempt? He sure does, because he’s already started to work on grooming Leon’s replacements! In the game, Bede is a trainer who came from a neglectful home situation who was noticed by the Chairman and given his endorsement for the Gym Challenge wait hold on that sounds really familiar.

Really, REALLY familiar.

Rose’s ploy with taking away Bede’s gym challenger endorsement after Bede literally did what he asked him to was a clear manipulation tactic, and if it hadn’t been for Opal intervening (and she ABSOLUTELY has Rose’s number and you can’t convince me otherwise), the tactic likely would have worked, because Bede would have done anything to get his endorsement back.

(Also Oleana is absolutely the fall girl set up to look like an obstructive villain while Rose can maintain his veneer of innocence. That’s a topic for another day tho.)

AND THEN. in the anime, he flat out tries to do this with Ash. AND IN THE GAME, HE TRIES TO DO THIS WITH THE MC, LIKE BEDE IS HIS PLAN B AND THE PC IS HIS PLAN C. However, the only child Rose has regular chances to interact with who DOES NOT get the manipulation treatment is Hop. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the Chairman always tries to pull shit with you when Hop isn’t around, and the two times he DOES interact with Hop are at the very end of the game where Leon’s been forced into trying to stop the apocalypse and after the Opening Ceremony.

What’s different about the Opening Ceremony, though? LEON IS STANDING RIGHT OVER ROSE’S SHOULDER SMILING STEPFORDLY. Which brings me to my next point: why Rose pulls his end game bullshit.

Leon is now in his early 20s, so he has obviously started to ask for his own agency and say no to things. He has also obviously realized that he does NOT want Rose around his brother, which is why he is fucking looming over Rose’s shoulder when he meets Hop and why Rose almost seems to deliberately avoid Hop for the rest of the game. Rose knows that if he so much as messes with Hop, Leon is going to absolutely turn on him, and he’s already become obstinate enough to be a problem. Rose is losing control of Leon, which is why he’s grooming his potential replacements.

It’s also why Rose LITERALLY HOLDS LEON HOSTAGE IN A TOWER. Like, I am amazed that people haven’t seemed to realize that Hop and the MC were ABSOLUTELY rescuing Leon from a hostage situation. Leon had been on top of the tower with Rose for HOURS at that point, and given Oleana’s personal fucking army and how much Leon clearly did not want to be up there, it’s obvious that there wasn’t a way he could easily extricate himself from the situation. What you do hear from his meeting with Rose sounds a lot like a guy trying to say no while also trying to de-escalate a volatile situation: almost like a victim to their abuser oh wait.

(Oleana also says that the reason she wants to defeat you and Hop is to break Leon’s spirit so he won’t have the strength to say no to the Chairman anymore. Like, that’s literally in game. It’s dialogue.)

So yeah. You’re rescuing a prince from a tower who’s being held hostage by an evil king trying to use the prince’s special power for nefarious purposes. This game is full of fairy tale metaphors. Like, a ton.

When you and Hop show up, you basically force Rose to let Leon go so as to not look like a complete fucking monster or cause a scandal, and Leon basically very politely tells Rose to ‘fuck off’ when he leaves.

So Rose--this narcissistic, megalomaniacal child groomer, who’s basically been shut down by the lynch pin of his plan--does the absolute most rational thing and RELEASES THE APOCALYPSE DEMON OUT OF SPITE. He literally says on a screen in front of Galar that oh no, his releasing Eternatus and causing the Second Darkest Day is actually all LEON’S fault for being so unreasonable and unrealistic. It’s manipulation. It’s emotional abuse. It’s Rose punishing his victim for saying no. It’s Rose throwing a tantrum because Leon told him to wait another week before doing something about something that would happen in a millennium.

Bede made a fool of Rose doing exactly what Rose and Oleana wanted him to do, so he punished him. Leon said no, so he punished him, and punished all of Galar while he was at it. He’s not doing shit for the good of Galar. He’s doing it for himself.

See, the game’s story exists to debate the relationship between adults and children in the Pokemon world. For generation after generation of games, children as young as ten have gone out in the big wide world with nothing but their starter and a Pokedex, and the adults they have met have never had any poor intentions towards them specifically. Yes, there’s all the evil teams and blah blah blah, but they weren’t targeting you, the child MC. You were just caught up in their messes. SWSH is the first game to show that no, there are adults who will try to take advantage of you because you are a child, and there are good adults who will try to protect you.

Opal protects Bede. Leon protects you and Hop. Leon has obviously gotten old enough to realize that what Rose did to him was wrong, and he tries so fucking hard through the whole game to protect you and his little brother from his boss’s machinations and all the bad shit happening in the world. I know people bitch about being ‘railroaded’ and not allowed to participate in the ‘plot’ until the end, but that’s the point. The good adults are trying to protect the children from the bad adults trying to harm them, and the children intervene only when the adults die trying to save them. Children should be allowed to adventures and have fun, but they should also be protected and shielded from shit that can harm them and shit they’re not old enough to understand, and this game--for better or for worse--is trying to strike that balance.

One last, very important thing. Leon’s life had been micromanaged and controlled from the moment he became Champion by Chairman Rose. He had to become all things to Galar--its fucking policeman, it’s regional hero, it’s unbeatable symbol of perfection, it’s hero, and--almost--its messiah--and when the MC becomes a Champion? He doesn’t hesitate to become Chairman, and he tells you--the new Champion--that your job is to explore and have fun. He doesn’t ask you to do sponsorship deals. He lets you do matches and tournaments at your own leisure. He calls you politely to ask if you want to do the Galarian Star Tournament. He doesn’t even know your PHONE NUMBER and I think about that a lot.

The game is about the responsibilities adults have towards children. It’s about how you don’t have to be the main character to be the hero. It’s about how you can’t and shouldn’t do everything alone. It’s about how child predation and abuse don’t have to be obvious or ‘traditional’ to be real and a threat. Finally, as Leon demonstrates so poignantly, it’s about breaking the cycle of abuse.

And THAT’S why SWSH is one of the best stories--if not THE best--that the Pokegames have ever told, regardless of its faults and the National Dex and a berry tree looking a little weird.

[qweerhet]

i think people heavily involved with leftist ~discourse~ could stand to take a step back from questions of morality and recognize:

when you brutally torture people for their entire lives, they will eventually react with extreme and brutal violence.

it's not a question of whether that reaction is moral or not. it's certainly not a question of if they will react like this; the only question is when.

it's pointless to try to ascribe moral value to the actions of torture victims while they are being tortured. if someone is starved, beaten, denied medical care, denied humanity their entire lives... they will (at the very least try to) lash out with brutal and horrific violence at some point. this is how our bodyminds respond to torture. this is how the endless trauma of being subjected to such conditions manifests itself. morality doesn't factor in.

[metanarrates]

even the most "innocent" child abuse victim inherently condemns society by their very existence & this is why there is such a strong effort to sideline or discredit victims of child abuse. like genuinely if you were to tackle the full reality of child abuse you would have to confront that our society is founded upon child abuse, and that would require us to break society at its very root. an abused child is a condemnation of the nuclear family model, of the education system, of the notion that children do not deserve rights, of almost every system that exists and that is why their existence is rarely examined in the mainstream. easier to not believe how widespread child abuse is. easier to pick apart individual victims. and ultimately it's easier to believe their abusers were isolated aberrations rather than individuals given insane power over their victims by the system and chose to wield it in ways that are largely condoned by that system.

and that societal sidelining largely happens even FOR victims who appear to fit the most unproblematic model of a child abuse victim. god help you if you aren't palatable or easily "reintegrated" into the existing structure after leaving your abuser lmao

[0809sysblings]

Amane, indoctrination, and gaslighting

and why voting Amane innocent would be the best course of action

I've been wanting to write a big post on Amane talking about indoctrination and such. Because I see takes sometimes that make it clear the person doesn't really... Get It.

Most of what I'll be explaining comes from my personal experiences growing up.

Additionally, most of what I say when it comes to outcomes (i.e. "If x happens, Amane will do y") will be based on the assumption that realism, not entertainment, is prioritized in the writing and that there are no major holes in our knowledge of what's going on. Theoretically anything could happen since this is a fictional scenario and we don't know everything when it comes to the world, the cases, and the characters. Not to mention my situation was nowhere near as extreme as hers. So although I probably have a better understanding of it than most people, I definitely can't claim that I know what she's gone through.

Personal anecdotes I add to better support my points will be in the small font (this!) since I don't want them to distract from the main text and so that they can be easily skipped for those who may be worried about being triggered. But if anyone needs plain text descriptions, I'll happily provide them!

!! TW for child abuse, religious abuse, and cults !!

I recommend skipping my personal anecdotes if more detailed discussions about these topics are a trigger for you.

At the heart of "good" (read: successful) indoctrination is gaslighting.

Since gaslighting has been one of the many psychology terms completely watered down and distorted by the internet, I will define it just so we're all on the same page!

Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation used to make the victim question their own sanity, sense of reality, or power of reasoning.

Basically, you can't trust yourself. You can't trust your thoughts, your feelings, your interpretations, etc. You become completely reliant on other people (usually specific people who are the ones doing the gaslighting) to figure out what's real/true or not.

Toxic/extremist religious groups like to take gaslighting a step further though. Not only do they make it so you cannot trust yourself to judge what is right or not, they may also teach you that what feels wrong is actually right. You can see where this can start to cause some issues lol.

Anything your gut may tell you that contradicts what the group/cult leaders tell you—"this is wrong!", "this is bad!", "I don't want to do this..."—must be ignored. Because those feelings and thoughts, according to the leaders, are actually the sinful part of you trying to lead the good and faithful part of you astray. They make you question yourself to make sure you never question them.

They will figuratively or literally beat this into you until your first instinct is no longer to listen to your gut and do what it says, but to dismiss it and do what it's telling you not to do. Existing becomes a chronic power struggle between your unconscious mind and your conscious mind. Unfortunately, the fact that you're struggling often then gets used against you as proof that you need to follow their teachings. Because if you're unhappy, then you must be doing something wrong. You just need to have a little more faith, dedicate a little more time to the religion/group, go a little harder into your duties... Only then will you feel better—feel more enlightened.

An integral part in making all this work is isolation. If you don't somehow isolate the members, they may figure out that they're being manipulated and abused.

Now, isolation doesn't always mean purely physical isolation (though Amane is being isolated physically to at least some capacity). Psychological isolation is almost just as powerful. An almost universal psychological isolation tactic used by extremist groups and cults is the "Us vs Them" mentality. We can see this being very prominent with Amane. A lot of things she talks about with regard to the cult involves an Us-vs-Them dynamic. There is "Us", the cult, and "Them", everyone else.

Personally, we were taught that those who weren't believers of our religion were out to get us or will, at the very least, get us hurt/killed somehow. We were told many people wanted us dead just for being believers. You had to be careful and watch out when interacting with non-believers; you couldn't trust them. God was constantly testing you via others, and you had to make sure you stayed faithful.

This in particular is why no matter if you vote guilty or innocent, that itself will not actually do anything to change her beliefs. Voting her guilty will not make her start to feel bad and then question her beliefs. Voting her innocent will not make her listen to us and then question her beliefs. If we make her have any doubt about the cult, that's just proof to her that what we're telling her is wrong and is just another "trial" from God for her to overcome. So, changing her beliefs should not be a factor considered when voting since it's completely irrelevant. Everything can be twisted to support the cult. That's just how it works.

I don't think any amount of punishment will make Amane "come to her senses". I mean... what could we possibly do to her that she hasn't already had to endure? Punishment will likely only escalate things even more. Not to mention that having a bit of a fascination with martyrdom isn't all that uncommon in those who have been religiously abused and indoctrinated. The threat of punishment may only serve to motivate her to double down on her beliefs and behavior. Not to say she wants and likes punishment. It's obvious she's both scared of punishment and wants it to stop. After all, that's most likely the motive behind the murder.

Even prior to Amane's age, I was already fantasizing about being a martyr. A part of me almost wanted to be killed for my religion and community. It was seen as something extremely admirable. The ultimate sacrifice, if you will. We were taught that if given the choice between saving yourself by denying your faith or letting yourself be hurt/killed by standing your ground, you should choose the latter. Of course, I also did not want that to happen at all. It scared me shitless. But we weren't allowed to be scared about that stuff. It was seen as questioning God and the religious authorities, which was completely taboo. So I had no choice but to "want" it.

Isolating Amane is the worst possible thing we could do to her. No one gets better from being isolated, and this goes double for people living in abusive environments. She's been isolated her whole life. The best thing for her would be spending time with the other prisoners without restrictions. The more time she spends around people who have no connection to the cult, the better. Trying to argue with those in cults about why they're wrong and why they are in a cult (because most don't even recognize they're in a cult due to the gaslighting, indoctrination, and stigma) will almost always backfire. The best thing to do is to just be there for them to have someone to interact with who is not a cult member.

The only reason I left the extremist religious community I grew up in was because I made a friend who was not affiliated with it. I don't think I would've been able to see that the conditions I was living in were Not Very Good without that friend. He didn't even really do anything to actively help me. Just learning more about the real world through him was enough to make me start looking closer at my life.

To vote her guilty would be to continue isolating her. Not just physically as the guilty prisoners get restrictions put on them, but it's also an inescapable psychological isolation. Innocent vs Guilty is just another Us vs Them dynamic.

I fear that, if she ends up guilty this trial, she will likely be voted guilty again in trial 3. Her aggression will probably only escalate as she feels herself becoming more and more cornered. And since I know many people are voting her guilty solely to make sure she doesn't hurt Shidou or other prisoners, I can only imagine what the voting will look like for her in trial 3 once she's forced to become even more aggressive to protect herself.

And tbh... I can't imagine that having a prisoner with 3 guilty verdicts will make for all that interesting of a story for them. Not that it would be boring, per se. But having variety would, in my opinion, be the most interesting and entertaining! So, if nothing else I've said has been able to sway those who vote her guilty, then think about the entertainment factor!

Please vote this severely traumatized 12 y/o girl innocent. We can give her so many secret cakes to eat.