#domestic trauma

[clowns0up-felix]

Drawing backgrounds and scene elements is so so hard,,,, man.

Domestic botw/tork Zelink has me in a chokehold (I usually don’t draw much domestic stuff is the thing)

The comic is something that happened in a dream of mine. It was only a very quick and short part of the dream but it stuck with me? Also,,, why are both images well-related what’s going on what??

Lastly, I was gonna draw something small for 500 followers bc I’m excited there’s so many of you but it felt too silly to do it so soon. I’ll draw something for 1k tho should we ever hit that!

[willowser]

thinking about you laying in bed with bakugou and lightly tracing the messy edges of the scar in the middle of his chest, hardly able to comprehend how deep that wound runs. it had already been there for years by the time you'd met him, but sometimes you see it and are unable to swallow the fact that—at one time—you were alive and he wasn't.

very quietly, you say, "it's crazy to think how easily i could have missed you,"

because it's not every day you meet and fall in love with a man that's died and come back. if fate is destined and soulmates are real, you imagine the two separate paths of your lives traveling parallel, in sync—and his breaking away for one horrible moment, torn from you before you even knew it.

bakugou is half-asleep, you know, but he shifts until his chin is lightly nudging your forehead, and speaks into your hair. "nah," he murmurs, voice thick and slow and slurred. "would'a found you eventually."

and somehow, you can't find it in your heart to doubt him.

[neuroticboyfriend]

Abuse has a goal behind it, and a lot of the time, it's about changing the victims behavior. If someone screams at you for not doing X activity, eventually you learn to do X activity. If someone hits you when you defy them, eventually you learn not to defy them. If someone abuses you frequently enough, and you begin to break down to their will... It is possible to reach a point where it may seem like you're not being abused anymore.

They don't yell anymore because you stay quiet and do what you're told. They don't threaten you anymore because you don't voice even the slightest disagreement or need. What used to be screaming fighting arguments have become lectures at your expense. They may even praise you for doing what they want you to. And all those mundane moments - breakfast, the rare kind act - stand out more. Your perception of the relationship skews even more. It's all normal now.

And it's still abuse. It's just reached its end goal - wearing you down so badly that they don't need to overtly abuse you anymore to get what they want. All they need to do is make a joke, or complain to guilt you, or tell you want to do/not to do, etc. etc. The fact that's all it takes now doesn't make what's happening to you less severe - if anything, it means you're in much, much more danger than you could realize.

It's abuse. It's horrific. It's just not obvious anymore... and that's terrifying. You deserve so, so much better. You deserve to truly be safe - not to have your wellbeing held behind fearful compliance. That's not safety. That's not love. That's abuse. It being psychological doesn't make it less dangerous.

[abuzd]

[obliviasart]

Thought I posted this already but I don't see it sooo here's the cover I made for the lovely, inimitable @sapphicsounds1312's pred4pred HDG story, Soar Higher Fall Farther! If you want to see a heavily augmented post-human beast and a shapeshifting plant alien viciously hunt and hatefuck and pretend they don't have feelings for each other, check it out! (mind the tags)

[fragmented-artist]

X

Blaine

[star-anise]

Ask I got on my sideblog but am answering here:

Hi there! I know you're a therapist and I have a question: I saw some people arguing on Twitter about the impacts of trauma. There was a therapist among them, and they had a masters degree in social work, they post about it often. They say that people who have experienced trauma hurt other people because it benefits them or gives them pleasure, and they are disconnected from empathy and sympathy. That seems wrong, but maybe it's not? That's all, thanks!

Ooof, yeah, that's... complicated. It's technically true, but also frequently used as a lie.

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child grooming, interpersonal violence, trauma (childhood & intergenerational), true crime, totalitarianism

Because basically, that describes MOST humans who decide to hurt other humans on purpose without a strong ulterior motive. That's not a trauma thing, that's a human thing.

I babysit for a family with a 1-year-old and a 3-year-old. When the 1yo does something to upset their older sibling, and that sibling winds up and smacks them, that's the same basic thing. It benefits them (makes 1yo go away), brings them pleasure (having an outlet for their anger is very satisfying), and they're disconnected from empathy (they're often surprised and confused when the 1yo is crying, because they're 3 and THEY feel fine and they don't really understand yet that other people's feelings really exist) or even sympathy (understanding that if you hit someone, they will probably be upset). That's something we adults have to watch out for and intervene in, because empathy and impulse control take time to learn.

But as for where trauma figures into this... how to explain.

There's this old logical puzzle about categories, where you say things like:

All dogs have four legs*

A dog is an animal

And then the catch is that you can't extend that to say

All animals have four legs

*RIP to all the tripods and legless animals that apparently aren't dogs anymore for the purposes of this logic exercise

Animals obviously include fish and millipedes and whales and snakes and jellyfish. The number of legs an animal can have is HIGHLY diverse, and will eventually lead to a debate on what the definition of "leg" is.

So there is this common thing we see:

Some people are much more violent and aggressive than other people

These violent and aggressive people have almost always experienced some form of trauma/abuse/neglect

And the link people are really prone to thinking is:

People who have experienced trauma/abuse/neglect will go on to being violent and aggressive with other people.

This is incorrect. To some degree, I can see why it's widely believed - after all, way more people tune in to learn about a serial killer's abusive childhood than for the more common story, which is survivors of trauma slowly going about their lives in ordinary undramatic ways.

Because the thing is, trauma is REALLY diverse. Humans are inherently varied and a bit chaotic, since we can choose very different ways to live and operate, and trauma splits that variability like a prism turning light into a rainbow. Only about 30% of abused children grow up to be abusive themselves. The other 70% choose very different lives.

And yet. My eternal question is: WHY is this such a meme? Why do so many people with a shitty childhood flinch at the 30% statistic and think, "Is that me? Am I destined to be a monster?" Why does this story have legs, when so many other facts about trauma have way more empirical backing and usefulness and get very little attention?

I submit that there is one group that fucking LOVES the idea that traumatized person equals abuser. One group that pushes it into the discourse, in international media or around the family kitchen table, with great ingenuity and gusto.

Abusers.

They love it for two reasons. The most obvious reason is: It absolves them of their actions. "It wasn't ME who hit you, it was my childhood trauma!" A veritable classic excuse that takes their agency out of the equation. And it really can be hard to tell when it's a good excuse and when it isn't!

Reason two is the more insidious one: It cuts their victim's sense of goodness, worthiness, and moral certainty out from under them.

It's as simple as saying, "Look at how you pushed back at me (when I was abusing you)! You're the REAL abuser here!" It's the heart of what domestic abuse researchers call DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender). It can be that simple, or it can be so complicated and byzantine it makes your head hurt.

I only really got a handle on understanding this thanks to a friend, who said she was okay with me sharing this story if I didn't identify her. I won't go into any unrelated details of her abuse, but for the record, hers is probably the most extreme case of anyone I've personally interacted with, and I used to work as a therapist and in domestic violence shelters. Her dad heinously abused her as a child. He'd also studied psychology in university. I have been trying to fathom how the fuck anyone could do what he did to her for YEARS, and I think I've got a few viabletheories.

So. She was an ordinary child, bright, warmhearted, well-behaved, and a bit autistic. A bit more naive and trusting than your average preschooler. I imagine that from his perspective, there was the convenient benefit that he often had unrestricted access to her, and he could relatively easily overpower and manipulate her.

But she had one serious downside: If anyone ever found out what he was doing to her, they would go fucking apeshit. She wasn't really prone to lying or acting out, so people would treat her as a fairly credible reporter; several other adults found her she was lovable, innocent, and endearing; and what he wanted to do to her was, I repeat, heinous.

So while he abused her, one of the things he said was: "I'm doing this because I was abused as a child. That's how it works. All abusers come from abuse. There are statistics proving it. This means you're an abuser too. See what society thinks about child abusers? That's what people will think about you, if they know that you've been abused."

And she was, you know, a child, not someone who studied psych research. He was her dad. So she believed him.

She thought that he was using his adult brain to correctly assess the truth about her as a person, for purely objective reasons. The way you'd try to teach a kid who talks with their mouth full about table manners. It's been a couple decades now, but she is still very slowly chipping away at her core belief that she is inherently awful and only her father recognized the truth about her.

Sometimes when we talk about it I have to bite my tongue because I'm sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with him, an adult man who wanted to abuse her because he'd really enjoy it. I think about him trying to figure out how to manipulate an innocent child into accepting being abused, and minimize the risk that he'd go to jail for it. And although I hate his everloving guts, I'm almost a bit impressed at his level of machiavellian audacity, to come up with a line that was SUCH hot bullshit that people have devoted their entire careers into proving it false, and yet, because it hit exactly the right psychological issue at exactly the right psychological stage and his intended victim was so trusting, he could get her to believe him enough to turn that lie into her core identity.

Praise be to G-d and Criminal Minds, he did not, in the end, get away with it. She got enough courage to tell people, and get free of him. And she is not, in fact, a horrible abusive person.

But I think what he did so very brazenly is what a lot of abusers do, in more disguised and indirect ways. Probably partly because it really helps, when abusing people, not to treat them like human beings with their own thoughts and feelings, but if one must posit that they have something going on between their ears, it's easiest to assume that everyone else responds to trauma with aggression and abuse. After all, considering the possibility that someone like them could choose not to be abusive takes all the fun and plausible deniability out of the whole affair.

But now I see echoes of that "my victims are just as bad as I am" tactic all over the place. I honestly think it's a very similar mechanism that Hannah Arendt pointed out in The Origins of Totalitarianism. She observes that violent totalitarian regimes routinely accuse their intended victims of the very act they intend to commit themselves, to justify a "retaliation" that's actually just aggression. Think claiming "Our opponents are rigging this election" as an excuse to rig an election in the opposite direction.)

To sum up: You're human. Humans can do good and bad things. It's not necessarily good to completely forswear anything violent or angry in you, but to come up with a framework of how to be assertive and get your needs met in an ethical fashion. There are times it is appropriate and even necessary to escape or fight against somebody else's will.

On the other hand, If find yourself inflicting pain on other people on a regular basis, get some support and take a good hard look at your life choices. Sometimes it's hard to figure out how to solve problems in your life without violence or aggression, and you might need some help with that. Maybe talk to a counsellor or learn anger management skills.

But in no way is it predestined, inherent, implicit, or doomed, that your experiences and brain wiring make you violent or evil. You always have the choice to define yourself beyond what was done to you.

[loveelizabeths]

- 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚜.

[purposechef]

carm's clipboard kink

[daddysdisappointment]

Never.

[3-2-whump]

Tear-Filled Noncon (Mutual!)

it's a working title, I'm bad with titles

Continuation of this idea

Art here

TW/CW: because this is a continuation of the previous noncon idea, a lot of the same warnings will apply. Rape/Noncon, intimate whumper, obsessed whumper, domestic violence (including brief head trauma), some degradation, inner thoughts that go a bit dark. If I missed anything, pls let me know!

He turned the key slowly in the lock, opened the door as quietly as he could, and closed it equally as carefully behind him. Whumpee’s eyes swept over the living room. The apartment was quiet and dark, dimly illuminated only by the city lights in the window. More importantly, the door to the master bedroom was closed, with no light peeking out from underneath. Whumpee sighed in relief; he’d gotten away with it.

The next breath caught in his throat as he was body-slammed into the door. A large hand pinned both wrists above his head when he tried to defend himself from the unseen force. The other hand yanked his head back by his hair, eliciting a surprised yelp of pain. “Where were you?” a warm breath hissed in his ear.

Whumpee squirmed under his master’s punishing grasp. “I-I can explain-”

“Like hell you can!” The hand in Whumpee’s hair drove his head forward and smashed it against the door. Sharp pain unfurled in the back of his skull as stars danced across his blurry vision. “Your curfew is midnight at latest, and it’s nearly two in the morning,” Whumper's angry voice thundered past the incessant throbbing in his head. The hand on his wrists tightened into a bruising grip. “So tell me-” Whumpee cried out in pain as the hand in his hair pulled harder. “Where were you?”

“You’re hurting me!” Whumpee gasped.

“Well you’re hurting me!” Whumper let go of him at once, only to throw him to the floor of the entrance. Whumpee landed hard on his side. He reflexively tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but within moments the man had flipped him onto his back to better climb on top of him. A loud ripping sound punctuated Whumpee’s whimpers in the darkness as his shirt was torn clean in two. “Coming home late at night, with no regard to my rules, and smelling like a cheap motel –wait…” Whumper’s eyes zeroed in on a necklace of hickeys that rested on the young man’s collarbone. He slapped him, once, then twice, then again. “Who gave you those hickeys?” Slap! “Who were you sleeping with?!” Slap! “Well, answer me, whore!”

Whumpee shook his head, the tears streaming down his face as he continued to beg for mercy. “Clearly you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” Whumper huffed. “No problem, this just means I’ve got to remind you!” He brusquely unbuttoned Whumpee’s pants and pulled them and his boxers down the young man’s trembling thighs. Whumpee’s pleas of “no, no, stop, please, stop” went entirely ignored as he was flipped onto his stomach. His begging took on a frantic pitch as his body started visibly shaking. He’d never been taken from behind before, and this new position made him panic.

“You don’t deserve to be fucked like a person, so you’ll take it like the wanton little bitch you are!”

“No, no, stop, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, no, I’m sorry!”

“Shut up!” Whumpee wailed as his hips were wrenched up from the floor and Whumper entered him without any prep or lube. The man was not gentle, far from it. Quick, desperate thrusts punctured him deeper than he was used to. It was the roughest he had ever been with him, unquestionably, feeling less like having sex and more like being torn in half. Stubbornly enough, Whumpee’s body reacted to these more intense sensations all the same, especially when the man on top of him continuously slammed into that sweet spot inside of him.

“Look at you,” Whumper commented derisively, a hint of bitterness in his gravelly voice. “Hard as a rock already, you slutty thing! You’d be happy with just anyone’s cock inside your ass, wouldn’t you?” Whumpee’s cheeks colored in shame as a shaky moan interrupted his pleas. “But you shouldn’t be; you’re mine!”

He felt a thin, warm fluid trickle past the cock pummeling his hole. The man above him crushed him further into the carpeted floor. “I own this ass, and it is mine to fuck,” he screamed, “you got it?! No one else’s, just mine!”

He didn’t have to see behind him to know he was bleeding. At least it makes Master’s thrusts a little less painful, he thought. That feeling of morbid relief alone made him cry even harder. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why am I not enough for you?!” Whumper’s voice wavered with emotion. His angry thrusts turned sloppier as he continued. “Damn it, and damn you! I gave you everything you could ask for; I gave you everything you could have needed! I fed you, clothed you, made you into the man you are today, so why?! What are they giving you that I’m not?!” The man’s voice caught on the last question. Whumpee felt small wet drops of liquid fall onto the nape of his neck. Tears? He realized with horror that Whumper was crying as he was raping him.

“M-Master, I-I’m sorry, please-”

“I said, shut up!” He pulled Whumpee back by the hips until he was flush with the older man’s pubic bone, burying himself to the hilt and spilling deep inside him. They stayed in that position for an uncomfortably long time. Suppressed sniffling sounds filled the entryway, and Whumpee knew they weren’t all coming from him. Whumper eventually pulled out, leaving his hole gaping and obscenely oozing cum. He settled on the floor next to Whumpee and repositioned them both onto their sides. “I love you, boy,” he murmured as he pulled him closer to spoon him. “I don’t enjoy hurting you, boy.” The tension gradually left Whumpee’s body as he accepted the forced cuddles. The man planted a kiss on the back of his ear, right above the barcode tattoo that marked him indelibly as property. The kiss was wet and tinged with sadness. “So why do you make me hurt you?”

-

Because what we do –no, what you do to me- is not supposed to feel good. How could it feel good? I didn’t want it, I don’t want it, and I will never want it, so why does my body betray me every time? What if it’s because you’re right? What if this really was my true purpose? To be nothing more than a pair of holes to fill and a body to break under yours? What if I am all those names you call me because I think this feels good?

And, what if I act out, do all the things I know will test your patience and make you rough and uncaring so that it finally hurts? So that it finally doesn’t feel good, and I don’t have to ask if my body and my mind are on the same page about me being violated? What if that’s why I make you hurt me? Would you stop? Would you hurt me more? Would it even matter?

-

That is everything Whumpee wanted to say. Instead, through a throat ripped raw from screaming, he rasped, “I don’t know.”

[aronarchy]

[abuzd]

[fragmented-artist]

X

Blaine

[xenon-demon]

only one (1) coherent thought in my skull right now and it’s domestic steddie with Steve washing Eddie’s hair after he’s discharged from hospital post-Vecna.

I’m imagining Eddie’s being discharged to Steve’s house, because Steve is but a simple man with a saviour complex (and also a crush on Eddie) so he’s letting Wayne and Eddie stay with him. Partly so they have somewhere to be while the government sorts out some new housing for them, but mostly because Eddie needs support for these first few weeks out of hospital and Wayne is away at work a lot. Having Steve around as well means Eddie won’t end up in a situation where he needs a hand but is stuck home alone for hours.

Eddie’s recovered enough for discharge but still requires a lot of physical therapy, and one of the things he still can’t do is raise his arms above his head. He can’t wash his hair pretty much at all, and while the nurses washed it for him in hospital, they didn’t do it frequently enough for Eddie’s standards. His hair has been driving him insane, as the limp, greasy feeling against his face, neck and scalp makes him want to claw his skin off. When he’s told how long it’s expected to take before his arms have full range of motion again, he makes a joke-that’s-not-really-a-joke about going back to his buzzcut days just to avoid dealing with the feeling.

Steve is horrified at the suggestion, and immediately offers to wash Eddie’s hair for him. He also divulges that part of the reason he styled his hair the way he did in high school was because he played a lot of sports, and couldn’t stand the feeling of sweaty hair against his neck and face. Sure, he genuinely did want his hair to look good, but styling it up so it was out of his face was an added bonus.

Eddie’s hair is driving him so crazy that he says yes, especially once he realises Steve might actually get where he’s coming from.

Cue an emotionally tense shower, where both Steve and Eddie are stripped down to their boxers because they don’t want to this fully clothed but they sure as fuck don’t want to do it naked, either. (Spoiler alert, they’d both actually love to have a naked shower together, they’re just both too nervous to bring that up at this stage!)

But then Eddie slips while in the shower, still unsteady on his feet and learning to adjust to his bad leg, so Steve makes an executive decision to switch over to the bath. After a bit of manoeuvring they find a comfortable position to do this; Eddie sitting in front of Steve in the bath, Steve’s legs stretched out either side of him. Between the physical intimacy of having your hair washed by someone else, and the way they don’t have to look at each other’s faces as they do this, they end up talking. They get a lot more personal than they were able to in hospital or during Spring Break, and it’s such a nice experience that they’ll each happily put up with the sensory hell of waterlogged boxers.

Eventually - after Eddie and Wayne have moved into their new place, but Eddie and Steve are over at each other’s houses often enough that they might as well still be living together - Eddie can move his arms enough to wash his hair on his own. He’s gotten more used to his bad leg and can stand long enough to even shower if he wants to. They go about three weeks with Eddie washing his own hair, both of them desperately missing this little routine they’d built but not wanting to admit it. One day, however, Eddie feels so lonely and so tired from physical therapy that day that he asks Steve to wash his hair for him. Steve accepts in a heartbeat, almost before Eddie’s even had time to say the words.

It feels different that time. The energy between them is charged, everything feeling more intimate somehow. It’s so palpable a difference that after Steve runs the conditioner through Eddie’s hair to let it sit for a few minutes, Eddie turns around in the bath to face Steve. He takes a breath, trying to steel his nerves, and asks: can I kiss you?

Steve doesn’t answer him; he thinks the way he leans in and slots his lips in between Eddie’s is answer enough.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 21)

When they landed they didn't bother going back to the party, they would explain things to Thad later. Right now they were going to pick up Tera from the nursery, nervously hand in hand as one or both of them occasionally let out light laughs at the utter high they were both on.

If Uzi was an outsider looking at them, she would have been disgusted, they both were looking at each other with half-lidded expressions, giggling like naughty children, and look like at any moment they'd be kissing again.

But she wasn't, now she was an insider, and honestly? She couldn't give less of a fuck what people thought of them, they could all bite her.

Mrs. Rayn didn't greet them, but she may have been sleeping in the back, so they quietly went into the side room, where the pillbabies were kept and found her in a little bundle, sleeping peacefully and curled into a blanket.

They both looked at each other before gently picking her up to not wake her, and made their way out of the nursery, N leaving a note to let Rayn know they'd come to pick her up.

Tera was tucked in her arms as they both made there way back to N's apartment, but N's hand only went down to hold her waist as they walked, not ready to let go of her yet.

It was late enough that most drones were asleep, but Uzi had the distinct feeling neither her nor N would sleep for several more hours, they had a lot to talk about.

Namely, what they were calling this.

And then they got inside, shut the door, and almost immediately N was wisking her off her feet, picking her and Tera up bridal style and wasting exactly zero time taking the both of them to the bed, he hadn't said anything either, being almost dead silent.

“N?” She whispered, still trying her best not to wake the baby even though there were plenty of examples that proved the girl could sleep through an earthquake.

He was too busy taking his tie and jacket off to reply apparently, leaving him only in his slacks and an off-white dress shirt that had been underneath the suit. Uzi felt her face-no, whole body heat up in flush. Surely he wasn't thinking…

“N.” She said a little more firmly, placing Tera on a pillow as she fidgeted her hands, blush growing as he unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, before pausing and sighing to himself.

“Oh. Yeah? Sorry, the layers were starting to make me overheat.” He turned back to her curiously, before looking confused at her extreme blush.

“Uh- Wh-whats that look for?”

Uzi held her head as she quickly tried to terminate any thought processes that were leading down a less then innocent path, this was N, not just some dude. Of course he wouldn't…

“You carried me to the bedroom.” She said slowly, trying to imply but not outright saying anything, N just looked more confused.

“Yeah?”

“And started to strip.”

He looked at her for a moment, squinting, before it seemed his processors suddenly caught up with exactly what she said, he looked down, top unbuttoned just enough so that his core could breathe, before they were sharing their fluster.

“Oh! I-I didn't- I wasn't trying to… uh… come on to you? Or anything, I just- I wasn't thinking.” He stammered, tail flailing wildly behind him and hands up in defense, if he was struggling with overheating before, he definitely was now.

It was weird. He'd been naked in front of Uzi before and had thought nothing of it. There was nothing to see, not really. But somehow now after what had just happened, he felt himself feeling… exposed.

Uzi laughed lightly through her own embarrassment, being able to embarrass N like this, in such a unique way, had her almost giddy to do it more.

“I mean yeah, it took you like a month to kiss me. Guess you can't be that smooth.” She teased, turning her face away but continuing to look at him from the corner of her eye, his flush grew worse, and he opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed all his mouth could do was open and close uselessly.

“I… I can be smooth!” His voice cracked, and he grumbled at himself, causing Uzi to laugh again before kicking off her boots and near yeeting her spiked bracelet across the room, turning on the light next to the bed so that she wasn't relying entirely on the light given off by N's visor and tail.

“I'm screwing with you, I know you can be.” She replied, humming before checking on Tera, who was still fast asleep. She smiled down at the pillbaby, lightly petting the soft casing, and Tera let out a pleased trill.

She felt a weight join her on the bed in close proximity, and she looked back over to her uh… best freind? boyfriend?… best boy, and gave him a once over, he still had a pleased smile on his face, but had fallen silent again, it was uncharacteristic of him really, to have so little to say.

“Are you good N?” She asked, putting a hand on his leg to give him some sort of comforting touch, it was still strange, being the one doing the comforting, but with N, she didn't hesitate.

“Yes. Yeah! I'm… I'm so good.” He replied almost breathlessly. Although the contact brought heat to his face again. He really needed oil, and soon, or he was sure he'd start steaming from all that had happened.

“I just am a little uh… starstruck? I guess? and a lot happy, and just everything?” He admitted, sheepishly scratching the back of his head, Uzi idly wondered where he'd picked that up from, as Thad did the same thing at times.

But she did get that, she also felt a little… overwhelmed. It was part of the reason they'd left, suddenly a whole bunch of loud young adults and inevitable drunken brawls didn't sound so… appealing.

“Same.”

“So… are we…?” He left out the last word, but pointed between himself and her rapidly, causing her to laugh and yet still look away, now a habit to hide her fluster even if now she didn't need to.

“Uhm… if-ah if you want… to… be…” She stole a glance at him, but immediately turned away once she saw the smile on his face. “With me.” She finished, gulping as lead settled down in her internals.

He laughed before pulling her into a hug, kissing her cheek before sighing, pressing their visors together with a tap. And a zap, as another streak of electricity passed between them.

“Of course I do.” He smiled although she was barely able to see it with how close he was, she found herself smiling as well, brought in by how sincere he sounded.

“T-then yeah. We c-can do that.” Somehow this was more nerve-racking then the several kisses they'd shared while airborne, maybe they were still aided by the oil that had long worn off by now, or maybe they'd been too caught up in the moment to think about it.

“Zizi?” Tera's sleepy voice came staticy and low from her voice box, a single purple eyelight open and looking groggy from the pillow. Uzi was immediately called to attention (and definitely not because what was left of her soft core turned to mush, no) and moved to cradle her in her arms again.

“Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you Jellybean.” the nickname slipped off her tongue and she heard N let out an airy breath in amusement, but didn't say anything, just rested his head on his shoulder and purred like a motorboat.

“She's a little warm again.” She hummed as she felt the warmth radiating from the droneling, whitch was probably the real thing that had woken her up, as she didn't seem to mind noise very much.

“Can you-mmh!” She turned to where he was resting on her shoulder and met his lips, him holding her there for a moment, as her eyes fluttered shut.

He pulled away with a chuckle, love on full display in his eyes, she didn't know how'd he'd hidden it nearly as well as he had if this was the way he was looking at her now, like she was… a deity.

“Told you I could be smooth.” He laughed at her fluster before getting up to go get a bottle, but his tail betrayed him, wagging at ludicrous speeds, even as she watched him actively try to grab it to make it stop.

She found herself giggling fondly, like she had been since they'd left the party. But being able to hear it in the absence of anything else in the room, made her realize how… not like her it sounded.

It was her. But she couldn't even remember the last time she laughed like it, or even if she ever had, she almost didn't recognize it. She felt herself blush, N had really brought this out of her… hadn't he?

He came back into the room a moment later with a grin, taking a swig out of the giant container of oil Uzi had made him put of one hand and having a tiny bottle in the other, he sat it down beside him as he sat back down and handed her the bottle

She sighed, almost a little wary of putting the siphon into her, her side had started to ache after so many things had been prodded into it, as well as the weight of Tera’s casing hanging off her and her rolling and pulling putting pressure on her frame.

“You're hesitating. Is it starting to hurt that much?” N asked softly,

“Y-yeah, but it's not like I have a lot of choice. She's going to need filtered oil until she has a filter of her own… and that's going to be awhile.”

“You said she needs a toddler body anyway, do they have filters?”

“Nah, it's still a little too small, next one would be a child body, I think kids normally get that at… 6? That's kinda where my experience ends to be honest.” She admitted, before taking a breath. She pulled up her dress slightly, enough to open the panel on her side and guided the siphon in, a full body wince as the sensors there lit up angerly. Although they felt less like sensors and more like… nerves. Huh

She gritted her teeth, the sensation only getting worse as she filled the bottle, thank robo-god this only took a minute or so.

When it was blessedly over, she took the siphon out and was able to breathe again, the stinging needles in her side turning into a dull ache once again that would just fade by the time Tera would need it again.

“Thank you.” N said slowly, almost as if he was hesitating, he pressed his cheek against her own, his hand running over where her side panel was gently before he pulled his hand away, clearly not wanting to linger.

“Huh?” She blushed as she fed Tera her needed meal, the pillbaby closing her eyes and relaxing as she always did.

“Tera can't say it, so I will. Thank you for giving her oil even though it hurts.” She felt herself smiling, the pain already receding slightly, he was still warm and weirdly enough that was somewhat soothing the pain.

“It's… fine really. Someone has to.” Tera finished, giggling softly but still obviously sleepy, blinking slowly.

“But that didn't have to be you. You're really good with her, I think I've said that like twice now- but I still mean it.” He replied, clearly not letting the his gratitude get waved off.

“She's my daughter… but I. I-uhm” He suddenly stopped, like the words got trapped in his throat as he found the courage to say them.

“I think she's yours too?” He finished quietly, almost wary of what she might say, and she felt that feeling again, the fizziling of her gut that wanted two different things, to have him be right, to call Tera her daughter, hers and his, and to not be involved at all.

But really what was the reason she wanted to distance herself? Her reputation? Scared of being seen as soft and squishy and weak? She was none of those things, she knew she was none of those things. She'd done so much over the past four months that was so insanely crazy. So what was stopping her?

Or was it the fact she was scared that if Tera was hers, that it would somehow harm her? Would people make fun of her for being Uzi’s daughter, labeling her as a freak and a weirdo and a lost cause just because her name was attached?

Or would it bring harm in a more physical way? Her solver was a powerful tool, but she didn't have full control of it at all times, she could snap, go feral and hurt her, or worse.

“I-I” It was her turn for her words to get clogged, feeling like molten lava coming straight from her core, she didn't expect the tears, and she didn't know where they came from or even why. But they did come.

“I want her to be.” She finally finished, the words coming out more watery then she'd expected them to be.

She felt N pull her into a hug that enveloped both her and the now sleeping child cradled in her arms, his face nuzzling her hair as she continued to let tears fall down her visor, they weren't accompanied by sobs, nor did she truly feel sad. But she couldn't stop, she was worried and stressed but hopeful, so hopeful. And she really, really wanted that hope to mean something this time, and not come blasting back in her face. As it had time and time again.

“I've got you.” She heard N say gently, and if anything that made them fall more rapidly, she nuzzled into his neck, letting those feelings that had been building up wash over her like a wave and what followed was… relief.

“Sorry, I'm not sure where that came from…you were trying to make me smile not cry.” She mumbled after gathering herself for a moment, he just chuckled.

“It's alright, maybe that was a little much after today…”

Uzi found the short cable she was using to charge Tera on the nightstand, leaning back to grab at it and quickly hook them together, she sighed as N still refused to let go even as he had to shift to accommodate the movement.

“I think it would be too much for anything right now.” She replied, feeling sleep mode tugging on every fiber of her synthetic being.

“Bedtime?” N asked, before yawning and making himself laugh tiredly.

“Bedtime.” She replied, a yawn of her own taking her down onto the bed as they lie next to each other, she felt his tail curl around her protectively, and smiled as his arm came to pull both herself and Tera closer, essentially trapping the droneling between them in a snug hug.

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