#i’m not here to unpack my abusive mother

[mysticpenguincreation]

i LOVE Portia Featherington

not because she’s a good mother or a good person, she is certainly not.

i just don’t know. i don’t even want to justify her actions. not matter the justification it’s still weak. i just love her and the featheringtons just the way they are. not after they started being good to pen, not when portia did what she could to protect her family in a patriarchal society without a man (or with a gambling one who betrayed their trust) by her side.

i just love this woman just the way she is and always have. you can throw rocks at me, and i’ll still love her. i can’t explain or describe why.

[sosomonimagines]

House's girl, part one — House x Daughter! Reader

Summary: House learns to love his daughter.

Warnings: diet talk and harassment, but nothing too in-depth

Author's note: English is not my native language. I have an idea for a saga about this, but I want to see if anyone likes it first 😭😭

Part two:

SUNDAY

You rarely saw your father. 

By the time you were born, your parents had already divorced, and he chose to remain largely uninvolved in your life. You knew your grandparents and received some Christmas and birthday presents, but nothing that made a lasting impact. Most of the time, he lived as though he weren’t a father at all.

Yet here you were, standing in front of his apartment, holding a suitcase with a few changes of clothes. Your mother had become involved with a man of questionable character — a manipulator with a minor criminal record that included harassment. You had reported him for making comments that made you uncomfortable, but your mother, who was deeply entangled with him, dismissed your concerns as lies. Consequently, the women's police station decided to send you to live with your father, as you had no other close relatives.

You knocked on door 221B and waited for about five minutes. “He must be trying to escape through the window, but luckily he’s limping,” you thought with a hint of irony.

“You actually came,” your father said as he opened the door.

“Sorry I didn’t choose to become a homeless person,” you replied.

He stepped aside to let you in. The apartment was surprisingly tidy, which took you aback; your mother had often complained about his disorganization. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had made an effort to clean up for your arrival.

“You’ll stay in the guest room; it’s the second door on the right.”

“Why do you have a guest room if you never have guests?”

“Sometimes, the prostitutes prefer not to sleep in the same room as me, especially when I hire many.”

“Did you know I’m only fourteen and that sexual jokes and exposure to excessive affection can damage my mind, like abuse?”

“Good thing it wasn’t a joke.”

You sighed deeply and walked to the guest room. It was a sparse space with just a bed and a dresser. As you quickly unpacked your clothes, you realized there was no suitable place to study— something you would need to address soon, especially with a math exam approaching.

“Where am I going to study?” you asked your father, who was sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey. “You’re drinking at eight-thirty in the morning?” you added, somewhat perplexed.

“Are you studying at eight-thirty in the morning?” he retorted with irony. “Study in the kitchen; there’s a table there.”

“But there’s no door between the living room and the kitchen.”

“That’s really a shame.”

“If you watch TV, the noise will distract me. I have Sensory Processing Disorder and need a quiet environment.”

“I’ll buy a desk for your room tomorrow,” he said.

“But I need to study today.”

“One day won’t make a difference.”

“It does when you want to get into Harvard.”

“You’re in middle school; nobody studies in middle school.”

“Actually, I’m in high school. I’m three years ahead.”

“Oh my God, you’re so annoying,” he exclaimed, getting up and heading to his room. “Study in the kitchen in peace. I’ll stay in my room.”

“Don’t you have to go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” he replied, slamming the door behind him. You didn’t mind the harsh tone; you had come for a place to stay, not for a father.

•••

MONDAY

You woke up at six-thirty, the same time as your father. With two bathrooms in the house, you both managed to get ready without crossing paths.

When you met in the kitchen for breakfast, a heavy silence lingered. He served himself without offering you anything, but you had learned the previous day that if you didn’t help yourself, you’d end up going hungry.

You helped yourself to Pop Tarts and a cup of black coffee.

“Aren’t you a bit young for coffee?” your father asked.

“It’s a legal drug, and there are no age restrictions,” you replied.

He didn’t respond, and silence settled between you again. The next sound was the doorbell, followed by the creak of the door opening.

“Hey, House,” a man said as he entered. Seeing you, he paused, visibly shocked. “Is this your daughter?”

“Touché,” your father replied, his tone a blend of sarcasm and resignation.

James Wilson knew that House had a daughter and understood that, despite his reluctance, he cared about her. However, seeing you there was still a surprise.

“My name is James Wilson. I’m a friend of your father’s,” James said, extending his hand for a handshake.

“My dad has friends?” you asked, surprised, making James laugh.

“Alright, alright, that was a really funny joke,” House interrupted. “Let’s head to the hospital; I don’t want to be late.”

“You’re always late, House,” James retorted. “We’ll drop your daughter off at school first.”

“Seriously? Thank you so much!” you said, thrilled, and dashed to grab your backpack.

As you left, James turned to House. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you care about her.”

•

You arrived home at four in the afternoon, utterly exhausted. After studying late into the night and barely catching glimpses of your father throughout the day, you felt the weight of the long hours. Whenever he did venture into the kitchen, it was in silence, leaving you to wonder whether he was avoiding conversation or simply giving you space.

Heading straight to the kitchen, you rummaged through the sparse offerings. With little more than cereal and Pop Tarts available, you poured yourself some cereal — without milk, as there was none. As you were eating, the doorbell rang.

“Yes?” you called out, opening the door to find a tall, burly man holding a clipboard.

“Gregory House?” he asked.

“This is his house. I’m his daughter.”

“He requested that a study desk be delivered here.”

You smiled to yourself as you let the man in. He proceeded to set up the desk in your room, a small but meaningful gesture from your father.

•••

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen your father the day before. When he came home, you were already asleep. Besides setting up the study desk, he called later to let you order some food, a small sign that he was making an effort, however minimal.

The next morning, as you both sat down for breakfast, you decided to strike up a conversation, unsure of how receptive he would be.

“How was the hospital yesterday?” you asked.

“Hmm?” he responded, looking up, surprised by the question.

“Any interesting cases?” you pressed.

“A girl with cancer having hallucinations.”

“Was the tumor pressing on the brain?” you inquired.

“No, the tumor was in the heart.”

“…A clot?” you guessed.

“Exactly.” House paused, impressed by your accuracy. He knew you were intelligent, having skipped grades and attended a prestigious school on a scholarship. However, he hadn’t realized your aptitude for medicine. “Do you like medicine?”

“A lot,” you replied. “My dream has been to become a doctor since I was nine. I attend pre-med camps, study whenever I can, read extensively about it, and watch medical shows to guess the diagnoses.”

“I enjoy doing that too,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

“I was wondering if I could read your medical books.”

“If you can.”

“My reading level is quite advanced. I might not understand everything right away, but I’ll research what I don’t get. And my dad’s a doctor, so I can ask him about it,” you said with a sideways smile, almost catching a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

Moments later, Wilson arrived to take them out. As he dropped you off at school, House mentioned to him that you were aspiring to a medical career and were very intelligent. It was the first time Wilson saw House display genuine pride.

•

When you arrived home that day, it was the first time in days you could truly relax, free from looming exams or relentless homework. You took a shower and settled into the living room, turning on a cartoon — your favorite way to unwind.

As you were engrossed in an episode of The Flintstones, your father came in.

“Aren’t you studying?” he asked, surprised. It was the first time he’d seen you doing anything other than studying since you arrived. To him, it seemed you were engaged in it constantly.

“My exams are over for now. When I finish a round of exams, I take a day off. And you, why are you home early?”

“There was nothing to do.”

“Did the patient die?”

“No, he recovered.”

“Congratulations.”

“Why?”

“For not having killed him.” House wasn’t sure if you were being serious or sarcastic, but he didn’t care.

He limped over to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and sat down next to you. This surprised you; you had expected him to retreat to his room.

“That cartoon isn’t from your era,” he remarked.

“Yes, but I prefer the old ones. Do you want to change the channel?”

“Don’t be overly nice; it’s annoying. You want to watch the cartoon and you got here first, so go ahead.”

You nodded and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Occasionally, you glanced at your father, noticing him getting caught up in the cartoon, even suppressing laughter at some scenes.

After a while, he asked, “Want to order a pizza?”

“I ate out yesterday.”

“So what?”

“My mom only lets me eat out once a week at most. She says it’s unhealthy and makes you fat.”

“Good to know your mother’s paranoias haven’t changed. I’m a doctor, and you know what’s worse than eating out? Not eating at all. Do you want pizza?”

“I guess so.”

“Then call and order it.”

You followed his instructions, ordering your favorite pizza. When it arrived, you ate it in the living room—another thing your mother would never allow. After the cartoon ended, your father switched to a medical drama. You watched in silence until, midway through an episode, he paused and looked at you.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“Pardon?” you replied, confused.

“Sudden and inexplicable nail disintegration, colorful and shiny mucous lesions in the mouth, temporary and recurrent inability to recognize faces, rapid and unpredictable changes in blood pressure, and intense heat sensation without fever. What is it?”

“Are you serious?"

“You said you’re good at this, right?”

You paused, considering.

“Stiff-Person Syndrome?”

“I need you to be sure.”

“Stiff-Person Syndrome. It’s a rare autoimmune condition that can lead to progressive muscle rigidity and pain, along with various neurological symptoms like motor difficulties and changes in sensory perception.”

“Great. You’re better than my team,” he said.

You watched two more episodes before falling asleep. In the middle of the night, you woke to find yourself covered and with your foot adjusted for comfort. You smiled, knowing that your father had made sure you were tucked in for a good night’s rest.

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Somewhere only we know

Part 1

Young Daryl Dixon x Reader (no apocalypse AU)

Read part 2 here

Synopsis- No outbreak and modern ish day AU (set in 2007-2010 era) Reader moves to the Georgia mountains, to live with her dad for her final year of school, as her mum is going travelling with her new husband. She meets a shy redneck boy with a tragic background, who immediately captures her heart.

Warnings - mentions of abuse, tragic upbringings, mentions of injury, feelings, friends to lovers, judgemental town people, readers dad is a sweetheart, reader has good relationships with both parents, but her mum is described as flakey and free spirited. My terrible writing as always (this is me practicing 🤣) slow burn, no outbreak, not cannon at all obviously, love confessions, reader sticking up for Daryl, both reader and Daryl being protective, smut in later chapters but not this one.

Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything

Word count - 3.8K

It was the start of fall, leaves were beginning to change and a cooler breeze was starting to hit the small town you were now going to call home. Green valley resided in the mountains of northern Georgia, population 680 people. It was where your Dad had bought a mountain cabin, just outside of town with a 100 acre orchard. He had purchased the property just over a year ago, in hopes of a slower life. He sold his Californian condo, and made the lengthy move to Georgia.

Your parents divorced when you were 12 years old, it had been a long and lengthy process, and they hadn’t left on the best of terms. Your mum took sole custody of you, but you stayed holidays and the summer period with your dad. Even so you had a great relationship with both your parents, growing up had been pretty uneventful, though your mum was somewhat of a free spirit. Now you were 18 years old, in your final year of high school and full of life. You’d inherited the free spirit of your mother, but the hard working mind of your dad.

Your mum had moved on with her life re marrying a lovely man called Ari, he was also very much a free spirit, and they’d planned a two year travelling trip together. This is what had lead you to leave your shared home in Arizona, and move in with your dad at his new mountain home. You had a good feeling about this move, maybe small town life would suit you? Would it be quieter life or an adventure? You didn’t know, but you were excited to find out.

Perched on the passenger seat of your dads Chevy truck, you drove through the valleys and mountains in comfortable silence. Taking in the sights, the gorgeous autumn colours and breathing in the fresh air. You wound down the window letting your arm fall out, pushing your fingers through the wind.

“It’s good to have you home kiddo” your dad admitted, “It’s going to be nice having you with me again” he continues, nodding contently to himself.

“Yeah” you smile, “I’ve missed this, the two of us hanging out”. He turns to give you a genuine smile, it must be lonely being in the mountain lodge by himself, you decide. Pulling up outside the cabin you gasp “wow” you exclaimed, it’s much bigger and prettier than the pictures he sent you showed. A beautiful stone wrap around porch and neat log exterior, there’s a few planted trees out the front, and gas lamps adorning the entry way. It looked like something out of a fairytale, and you were incredibly excited to see the inside. Taking your phone out, you quickly snap a few photos to send your mum.

Your dad smiled at your childlike wonder as you admired the cabin. “I’m glad you like it honey bee, let’s get you all settled in”. The inside was just as lovely, large brick fireplace and open planned living downstairs, three large bedrooms with en-suites and a study upstairs. Your dad showed you to your room, then gave you space to unpack and settle in. Once unpacked and showered you came down to your dad serving dinner, “I don’t know if your hungry, but I made your favourite, at least I hope it’s still your favourite?” Your dad asks with a small laugh.

“It most certainly is! Thanks dad”

“Good” he nods.

“Ummm God, this is amazing” you groan happily. Your dad huffed a laugh, “I forgot how good your cooking is! Mum’s terrible, we end up with burnt dinner or takeout most nights” you laughed.

“Well I’m glad to get a proper home cooked meal into you then!”

“Soo I spoke to your new head teacher and the school is giving you this next week off, to you know settle in. Then you start a week Monday, so I thought you could spend some time this next week, getting to know the town and the area. We can go for lunch tomorrow in town if ya like?” Your dad explained.

“Yeah that all sounds great dad” you agreed.

One whole week to settle in, yeah that sounds ok you thought. Gives me time to maybe get to know some people too, get to know the route to school. You ate in comfortable silence, before helping your dad clean up and get an early night, it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

_______________________________________

The next morning you woke to birds chirping and leaves rustling. Golden rays were casted through your window causing a warm glow, floating dust particles visible in the streaks of light. A soft breeze was filtering in through the small crack you left open last night, hoping to remove some of the evenings humidity. You determined right then that waking up like this in nature was wonderful, no cars honking or children screaming like the busy neighbourhood you lived in back in Arizona, just peace.

You spent the morning folding your clothes into draws, setting up your laptop and organising your desk space. Before getting ready for lunch out with your dad, you decided faded jeans and a band tee would work, it was exciting to get out and see your new local town, but a little overwhelming too. It was a big change from your life before, and an adjustment period would definitely be needed. Nonetheless it was nice to be spending some quality time with your dad.

“You ready to go kiddo?” You dad calls up the stairs.

“Yeah! Now coming” you yell back, bounding down the stairs.

Driving to town didn’t take long, you watched out the passenger window paying attention to the area and the amenities. The lakes, mountains and colourful leaves were so picturesque.

The town centre was small but well equipped. From what you could tell there were a few restaurants, at least three coffee shops, a hardware shop, a post office, a supermarket, a couple of convenience stores and a surgery. Not including the school and garage on the outskirts.

Pulling up outside a small timber clad diner your dad parks and grins at you, “Your gonna love this place! They have the best pie and great views of the lake” he stated. “Awesome!” You reply hopping out the truck.

Walking inside you take in the place, there’s large windows placed all along the back of the diner, looking out directly onto the lake, there’s warm lighting and the whole place has a very cozy feel. An older woman about 60-65 years old you guessed came bouncing over. “Well hi Allan it’s good to see you, this must be your beautiful daughter I’ve heard so much about?!!” She gushed

“Hey Susie how are you? You’d be right, this here’s my daughter y/n” your dad replied to the bubbly woman.

“Hey it’s nice to meet you” you added

“Isn’t she a sweetheart Allen, you must be so proud, you know y/n your dad here hasn’t shut up about you coming for weeks now” she sang, playful glint in her eyes. You smiled kindly back at her, feeling relatively embarrassed by the attention. “Well you choose a seat hunni, and I’ll be right over to take your orders” she continued before walking off.

“She seems friendly” you stated. Your dad lets out a laugh at your uncomfortableness, “Yeah, small town honeybee. Everyone knows everyone here and they all talk, a lot” he emphasises. “Hmm” you sigh this was something you’ll need to get used too.

You chose a seat with a view by the large windows, and as if reading your mind he hummed “You’ll get used to it.

After lunch you both walked through the town, while your dad stopped at the convenience store to collect some necessities, you busied yourself looking through the aisles, choosing some snacks for yourself. You could hear your dad chattering to the woman on the cashier, everyone in this town really did know everybody. When you looked up your eyes met a pair of bright blue, belonging a boy around your age with scruffy light brown hair, worn clothes and a couple of cute moles adorning his face. You smile at him, he offers a small smile back before looking away bashfully. “Hi, I’m y/n” you offer, “Daryl” he mumbles back.

“It’s nice to meet you Daryl, do you live around here?” You ask.

“Yeah umm not too far, jus down by da creak” he replies. You offer another warm smile, “I’ve just moved here with my dad, maybe I’ll see you round?” You add. Daryl nods looking at his feet, he seems incredibly shy you think.

“Y/n, you done?” Your dad calls, you follow his voice to the checkout and hand him the two candy bars you’ve chosen. “Just these please” you confirm. You look back to the other end of the shop seeing Daryl chatting with another guy, probably in his late 20s.

“I wouldn’t talk to that boy if I were you” the lady on the cashier interrupts your thoughts. You take the time to read her name tag ‘Wendy’ “Hmm” you reply “why not? He seems nice enough, awfully shy” you continue.

“They are the Dixon’s the taller one is the older brother Merle, he’s always causing trouble, in and out of jail. Their dad is a drunk, and lord knows he hits those boys. The older ones left home now but comes back frequently. Daryl’s in school still so he still lives with his dad. It’s only a matter of time before he starts behaving the same way, I’m sure of it” she rants in whispered hush. You frown, you don’t like that. He’s done nothing wrong yet, but already branded by the town because of his family. But before you can say anything your dad pipes up “Well we best be going, lots to do before this one starts school”. “Well good luck sugar just pay mind to what I said, you seem like a sweet girl, and this town talks” the cashier lady implores. You give a tight lipped smile before leaving with your dad.

The walk back to the car is deadly silent and you are stewing your inner monologue ‘how dare she’ and ‘if she knows he’s hitting the boys, why hasn’t anything been done?’. Your dad turns to you reading you like a book, “Hey I get it, you don’t like injustice I know that” he interrupts your thoughts, looking up at him you sigh “It just doesn’t seem fair”. “I know baby girl, if you want to befriend that boy, you do it. I know we raised you to be kinder than that, and hey you could use a friend” he replies. You smile at him “Yeah maybe I’ll see him at school” you nod agreeing with your dad.

_______________________________________

Three days pass in a blur, you sign up to the local surgery and check all your medical details have been passed over correctly. You find the local library and spend most of Monday getting lost in books, you try a local cafe and enjoy drinking your coffee while walking around one of the lakes. You even chat to a few locals, getting to know the town better. But your mind keeps reeling back to the boy with the blue eyes, Daryl Dixon, you’d never met someone so painstakingly shy before, and your a bit shy yourself hating being the centre of any attention.

Wednesday comes around and you need to pop by the school to get your class schedule, your dad takes you so he can get any needed information too. Stood in the principles office, going over everything you’ll need, your mind wonders off. While your dads chatting up a storm, your gaze wonders out of the window.

You spot him sitting under a tree with a sketch pad or writing book in his hands, it’s too far away to really make out. But he’s sat all alone, while all the other kids hang out in their favoured groups, Daryl just sits by himself quietly. This boy has really intrigued you, does he not have any friends to sit with? Are the kids in this school as cruel as the narrow minded adults who roam this town.

“Excuse me miss” you interrupt, “Could I please have a wonder round? Get my bearings before Monday?” You ask politely. “Yes of course you can dear” she replies handing you a piece of paper “Here’s a map, so you don’t get lost, take half an hour or so, there’s a lot I need to go through with your dad here anyways” you explains. You nod thanking her before exiting the room, one mission in mind, finding your way over to Daryl.

Navigating the schools corridors wasn’t too difficult, and you found yourself by the back doors which lead the the playing field fairly quickly. You spotted the large tree smiling to yourself when you found he was still sat underneath its shady branches, lost in whatever he was doing. You slowly approached trying to not startle him, when your figure casts a shadow he looks up squinting from the suns rays, slight frown between his brows. “Hey” you hesitated, worrying now that you had overstepped. But once he realised who you were he visibly relaxed, “Hey yer the gurl from da store Saturday rite?” He questions, his southern drawl thick ‘and adorable you find’ “Yeah that’s me, do you mind if I sit?” You ask, he gestures for you to go ahead, so you ungracefully plop down next to him. “What year are you in if you don’t mind me asking?” You request, smiling at him slightly hoping to put the shy boy at ease.

“I’m in ma final year, tho this is ma second time tryin’ I’m nineteen. You?” He replies, he’s nervously fiddling with a small twig on the floor, cheeks tinged pink. “I’m in my final year too, I’m eighteen. I’ve just moved here from Arizona. I was living with my mum, but she and her new husband wanted to go travelling, so umm I came here to live with my dad for a while” you explain.

“So wat ur ma just made you leave?” He questions small frown returning.

“Oh no no, not at all” you reply crossing your arms in motion with your reply. “No I decided to live with my dad again, I’ve missed him and it’s quieter here, I was ready for the change” you continue. Daryl gives you a Quick look before nodding at your statement.

“You startin' here soon den?” Daryl mused, “Yeah I start Monday” you reply with a smile, your eyes meeting his blue. Daryl looks forward then his brows pinching together, “Well I wudnt be seen wiv me if ya hopin’ to fit in wiv everyone here” Daryl sighs. “I don’t care what anyone here thinks, and you shouldn’t have to feel like that Daryl” you affirm. He turns to you worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, you can tell he’s not used to this, kindness, and it breaks your heart. He makes a small grunt, before fiddling with the twig again. “Anyways I like you Daryl, I’ll look forward to seeing you again Monday” you smile, before getting up to head back towards the school to find your dad.

Daryl watches after you as you leave, face as red as a tomato. He’s never had someone actively seek him out before, and he doesn’t really know how to take it. But he likes you too, you seem sincere and kind, there’s not many like that in this town. He smiles thinking that maybe he himself is looking forward to Monday too.

_______________________________________

It was Friday morning and by now you were becoming a little stir crazy, your dad was great he really was, but he was aloof at times. You think he was trying to give you some space, maybe you were just so used to your erratic mother constantly talking your ear off, and her demonstrative personality. Therefore making your dad seem rather quiet and distant, he checked in to make sure you had what you needed though, and he always spent meal times with you.

This morning he was tending his orchard, getting it ready for the autumn harvest, you knew he had hired some helpers to help him sort things, he’d said this may take most of the day, so you needed to find a way to entertain yourself.

After sipping your morning coffee peacefully on the porch, watching the trees rustle in the breeze, you decide maybe a hike in the forest would do you the world of good. So you pack up a bag of necessities, grab your hiking boots, a map and set off.

As you walk through the forest trails, the sun casts through the trees causing halos of soft glowing light, dew drops hang off branches and it’s all breathtakingly beautiful. You pause for a moment breathing in the forest air, and listening to the sounds of nature, until you hear a soft sniffle. You quietly pad yourself in the direction of the sound, it was definitely a person softly crying ‘what if someone’s hurt or lost’ you think. So you hastily make your way over, coming to a small clearing, where there’s a beautiful tiny meadow tiny flowers and fluffy dandelions fill the space. But there sat in the middle is Daryl, he has his head in his knees and his arms are hugging his legs.

You slowly walk over towards him treading as lightly as possible to not startle him, but he hears you instantly, his head snapping up in your direction. “Wat do yer want” he snaps, you recoil slightly, however you can see he’s hurting so you swallow it down and continue your way over. “I heard you from back there, I was out on a walk” you reply hesitantly. Daryl nods wiping his eyes with the back of his hands ferociously, you can see he hates to be seen in such a vulnerable moment.

You plonk yourself down next to him “Want to talk about it?” You ask. He debates this for a moment, he hates being open and vulnerable, but he can’t remember the last time he had anyone to talk too, Merle was never emotionally available, hell he was barely ever physically available these days. So he swallows down his pride “Ma dad was out last nigh drinkin, came in about three this mornin’ I woke up from his bangin, tried ta help him ta bed. He didn’t take it too well” he sniffled, Daryl looks at you then and you can’t help the small gasp when you see his eye, which was clearly hidden by his mop of hair before. It was black n blue and very swollen.

“Oh my goodness Daryl! One second I have a iced water bottle in my bag” you swallowed, you search through your back pack pulling out the bottle and the spare vest top you carry, wrapping the bottle in the fabric you place it over his eye as gently as you can muster. He still flinches, like you were going to hurt him and your heart shatters. “Here it will help with the swelling and bruising” you offer, and he lets you help him then, carefully watching you as you hold the iced bottle over his bad eye. He’d never had anyone look after him like this before, never been nobody who cared enough to help him. He finds himself leaning into you then, and you have to hide your smile by biting your bottom lip. You notice then his lips bust too, dried blood around it “Here hold this in place, I have some alcohol wipes in here for those cuts” you affirm, letting go of the bottle and searching you bag once more. Finding your small first aid kit you pull out the wipes, ripping the packet before shuffling closer to him again. “This may sting a little sorry” you sympathised, he lets out a small hiss as you gently place it on his lip, dabbing the alcohol into the cut and cleaning off the blood, before doing the same to the cut on his eyebrow.

“There all done, just keep that ice on your eye for a bit ok” you advise. “Ok” he agrees. You spend the rest of the day with him, chatting about everything, even if it was you doing most of the talking. You find out that the meadow is halfway between both your homes, he tells you more about his dad and how nothings ever been done because people don’t care about rednecks like them, Merle got away, got involved in drug deals and fights, left Daryl to deal with their abusive father on his own.

Daryl tells you how he spends most of his time in the forest when he’s not at school, to get away from his dad, but that his father barely notices when he’s gone. He hadn’t gone into school today after his dad beat him, he just ran here. You decide then you’d do your upmost to help him, there was just something about this boy, he captured your attention that first day in the shop, but just a few days in and he’s already stolen part of your heart.

By then time you arrived home early that evening, you had a unmissable smile on your face, your dad notices straight away “You enjoy your hike honey bee? Thanks for the note I’d have worried otherwise” he comments. “Yeah it was nice, I spent the day with Daryl, bumped into him on the trail” you smile. “Ah I see, I’m glad you’ve made a friend” he answers “You hungry? Dinners almost ready” “Yeah starving!” You declare.

Laying in bed later that night you pull out your phone, you’d exchanged numbers with Daryl earlier and couldn’t wait to message.

‘Hey, fancy a walk around the south lake tomorrow?

Y/N’

‘Yah sure, thnks fer today, 10am ok?’

You grin instantly at his reply,

‘Yeah perfect, meet you there? Or I can pick you up?’

‘Nah I’ll meet ya there’

‘Ok see you tomorrow, goodnight Daryl’

‘Nite y/n’

You were really looking forward to tomorrow now.

_______________________________________

[certifiedsexed]

hi there! this isn’t about sex itself, but since periods are usually a part of sex ed and i’ve literally just been woken up because the cramps were bad enough, i thought i would ask — is it normal to be in a lot of pain when you’re on your period?

context: i still live with my abusive parents, who don’t let me take any kind of pain medication after a suicide attempt at thirteen, so i know that this problem might just be that i need to take a strong painkiller. also the pain doesn’t ever last more than three days? like the first three days (and sometimes the days leading up to it) of my period are always hell but then it’s fine, i have no pain afterwards.

but the problem is that the pain is�� bad. like being woken up in the middle of the night because my sides hurt and my legs hurt isn’t uncommon, and there’s this weird thing where i’m scared to use the toilet during these first three days because it makes my butt and my sides hurt so much that i genuinely can’t move and have to bite myself to stop myself from screaming. sometimes i’ll be in so much pain, usually in my sides but also sometimes in my stomach or legs or my butt, that i can’t even move, so i just kind of… have to lie pressed into my bed and hold my breath.

my mother has always just told me that she had worse pain when she still used to get her period, and that i’d be completely fine if i just listened to her and used a hot water bottle (i have poor circulation, so hot/cold stuff just doesn’t really feel great for me usually), and i’ve always just kind of accepted that. i know it’s common for people who get periods to talk about how painful things like cramps are, but i genuinely usually feel so miserable for the first couple days of my period that if i don’t need to get out my bed, i literally won’t at all.

i’m just wondering… is everyone who gets periods in as much pain as i usually am, at least for the first couple days? or, since i know that people experience periods differently, are people in more/less pain than i am but it’s fine since this isn’t that bad and i should just take medication each month for it? idk, but ever since i started to get periods they’ve genuinely always made me feel so so bleak and in agony, and i’m someone i’d consider who has a maybe above ‘average’ pain tolerance (i have chronic back pain, migraines, and health issues that make it easy for me to sprain/fracture my ankles which i’ve unironically managed to do about eight times in the past two years — again, unfortunately all of this with mostly no painkillers unless i can get them from the school first aid box), so i just… don’t know anymore, but i thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.

anyways, unrelated but i really do love this blog — the reblogs are always good things to read as someone who’s still unpacking being raised by very puritanical parents, and the asks always offer good advice too, very empathetically in a way that sometimes catches me off guard (there was one post on here that was something about how the asker’s father would belittle them and i think your reply said something like ‘it’s not your fault and nothing’s wrong with that aspect of you’… which i know sounds obvious but that was something that i don’t think had ever been obvious to me ever since my father started doing the same when i was younger. it was really comforting to hear, is what i mean, and your replies often are. so thank you for that! and for the time + energy i can imagine it takes to run this, you post/rb so often!)

Hi! This is absolutely a sex ed question, you're right!

So, first, let me make one thing clear: no! You are not supposed to be in this level of pain on your period. Some pain is understandable but once it gets to the point it's bad/debilitating in Any fashion, something is going wrong.

But I also want to say, being in an abusive living situation can fuck up your periods. And so can being restricted from pain relief, which-just in case you're not aware-is another type of abuse.

But what you're talking about sounds like more than just a lack of basic pain relief. That's very disabling, even if it doesn't last long. It may be that intense reactions to periods run in your family [especially since your mother mentioned experiencing something similar] but that's still something you should be getting something like specialized pain meds for or even stopping your periods altogether.

What you're talking about, especially on top of an abusive living situation, is very unhealthy for you to have to deal with.

Not everyone is in that much pain. Some people are but that's a medical condition. It's a disability! What you're talking about is a disability. It can be caused by PMS or endometriosis or PMDD or it could even be connected to whatever causes your other chronic pain but it's still very much something your parents should be getting you checked out for.

Even if your mother had the exact same pain on her period, that doesn't mean you should have to suffer through it, especially not with her revoking your access to basic pain relief. That's all completely unacceptable and I'm sorry you're having to deal with this.

I'm not sure how helpful this is but I hope it's at least good to know the pain levels you're dealing with are unacceptable and Not "normal" period pain.

Also I'm so glad you're learning and enjoying the blog, especially the advice. I also grew up in an abusive household so to hear it's helping someone else in a similar situation means the world to me, fr. 💕 Sending love, Anon. <3

[markerofthemidnight]

Why Is Alastor So Weirdly Protective Of Charlie (And/Or Why Does He Hate Lucifer So Much)?

So I’m sure we’ve all seen the newest episodes. Wow, am I right? A whole load to unpack there!

The main thing that really caught my attention, though, was Alastor. Specifically, his actions towards Charlie and especially Lucifer in episode 5.

Well… there’s not really much to say about why it’s weird, is there? So, without any further ado, here’s my thoughts.

In Dad Beat Dad, Alastor engages in a whole-ass musical number about how he’s better than Lucifer and, specifically, better at being Charlie’s dad than him. He seems to do this… solely to piss him off.

And, honestly, that makes sense. Because no matter how deadbeat a dad Lucifer was, Alastor is nowhere near better than him. This is the same dude who called Charlie’s dream wacky nonsense and continuously stressed that he was only there for the entertainment.

There’s no way in hell (ba-dum-tish) that that dude suddenly developed paternal instincts for her in what couldn’t have been more than a few months. So, clearly, it must be to piss him off. But why?

Well, one of the popular theories about Alastor is that the one who gave him his powers is Lilith. I shouldn’t have to explain why this makes sense: both gone for seven years, and of course the first time he’s seen since his disappearance is after Charlie’s voicemail to her mom.

And he must be very loyal to her, to assist her daughter in a dream that he explicitly states he thinks is bullshit.

It would also explain how pissed he is when Husk brings it up: maybe it wasn’t the fact that he brought up that he also made a deal, but that he implied that his relationship with said patron is less than healthy. You know, he don’t want people to speak about his girl like that. (guys don’t worry I know al is aroace it’s just a joke he’s her personal bodyguard)

So, it’s safe to say that Alastor is very loyal to and protective of Lilith, an attitude which must extend to Charlie, yes? Yes, but that doesn’t explain the general pettiness of his relationship with Lucifer.

Well, we just established that Alastor is loyal to and protective of Lilith, that would do practically anything for her. So do we know any character that Al has a similar relationship with?…

Oh, right.

His mother.

It’s been confirmed via Word of Vivienne that Alastor is totally a mama’s boy and adores her above all else. So, it’s not much of a stretch to say that he sees Lilith as a sort of second mother figure, right?

So, inversely, it’s not much of a stretch to say that he would associate Lucifer with his father.

Think about it. Have we ever heard his father be mentioned anywhere? No. And knowing that daddy issues are TOTALLY a long-running theme in Vivziepop stories by now (Blitz, Stolas, Moxxie, Octavia, technically Loona, Charlie, probably Angel to some extent), who’s to say Alastor can’t be the same?

Now, this is kind of a stretch, but I propose that Alastor’s first victim was his own father, whom he killed and cannibalised as revenge for years of abuse to him, and even more so, his mother.

That’s why he hates Lucifer so much. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near him, he doesn’t want him anywhere near Lilith, and it seems he especially doesn’t want him anywhere near Charlie.

Which makes sense, if we apply the logic from earlier to her. If he sees his mother in Lilith and his father in Lucifer, it’s possible he sees Charlie as a younger, more innocent version of himself: both theatrical dreamers, both never fully dressed without a smile, both incredibly emotional when it comes to the protection of those they care about.

It’s also safe to say that, no matter how egotistical he pretends to be, Alastor probably doesn’t have a very high opinion of himself, given how in the pilot he outright says that inside every demon (which INCLUDES himself, by the way) is a lost cause. Maybe it’s possible he sees her as himself before everything went wrong.

So, as it turns out, he’s actually less of a dad to Charlie and more of a big brother. And… I think that’s a lot more fitting for him.

TLDR: Alastor’s weird grudge against Lucifer is because he associates him with his abusive father. That and his loyalty to Lilith and Charlie are two things that, if I’m right, will probably prove to be very important to understanding Alastor as a character.

[nanamissuit]

omg i cant get the thought of price having a teenager niece that lives with him when hes home.

like the kid lives with her grandparents most of the time because of prices deployments. maybe she has messed with wrong coping mechanisms like weed and alcohol. but when john noticed he helped her get back on track and compleat school well and lessen the common dumb shit she dose.

SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN KIDS!!!!!

Kids - John Price

Warnings: None, fluff, Drugs/Alcohol, Abusive household mentions?

So anon you're so right. JOHN PRICE IS A GOOD FATHER!!!

Price had gotten home from a deployment and wanted to unwind and relax but when he walked in and saw his niece and mother sitting on the couch, he audibly sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Can’t you just look after her for a month or two? You know how your sister struggles with drugs..” He sighed and looked at her and frowned. “Alright, fine. Tell Savanah I’m never doing this again though, whenever rehab lets her call.” His mother gave him a hug and nodded as she said goodbye to her granddaughter. Price put down his bag in the hallway and then gave his niece a tour.

“Alright so this will be your room, bland I know but I’m thinkin an Ikea trip and a couple of other stores?” “YES! You’re the best Uncle John.” She smiled as she placed her bag down and jumped onto the bed relaxing and pulling her phone out to call her friends. Price smiled only a little as he shut the door on his way out. 

Now it had been months since he got home so he definitely had some food shopping to do, and he realized he had no idea about what his own niece likes. He walked up the stairs to her room and knocked on the door.

“COME IN!” He walked in and saw her on her phone still, but this time on the phone with a couple of her friends. “Hey kid, I’m going to the foodstore. Here's my number to text me what snacks, lunch, breakfast, dinner I need to stock up.” “Okay!” He nodded and walked out and got his shoes and keys. 

He ended up coming back home with bags on bags of food, he sighed when he saw the long ass list he had to buy for her, but he had no problem as long as she was happy. He then placed bags down on the counter and started to unpack everything.

His niece came downstairs and sat at the kitchen island and watched him unpack things while scrolling on her phone, he broke the silence. “So, what grade are you in now?” “9th I just turned 15.” “Jesus, you are getting old. The last time I saw you, you were like 4.” “It’s been that long?” “Yeah kiddo time goes fast doesn’t it?” He spoke softly as he started packing things into the pantry and fridge.

“Uncle John you know you’re gonna have me longer than 2 months right..” John rolled his eyes and chuckled, “I assumed I was, you got school still or summer break?” “Break is just ending so I go back on Monday.” He nodded, and he asked for the address so he could see how far of a walk it was or if he needed to drive her. He ended up letting her decide to walk there when it was warm or hot out and if it was cold he’d drive her.

Now it has been a couple of months since she’s moved in, around 5. She decorated her room and Price got her a new phone and TV just because it made her happy. At this point he considered that kid his own. So when she came home drunk, he wasn’t too shocked, just a little worried.

“I’m gonna throw up-” “You’re over the toilet seat so go ahead I’ll hold your hair, I’m right here.” She then proceeded to throw up her guts into that toilet. And when she was done he carried her to bed and tucked her in, laying a towel on the floor and a bowl next to her just in case.

“You’re not mad right?” “No, we've all been teenagers once. But we are talking when you sober up.” She nodded and dozed off to sleep as Price got a phone call, it was her mother and he answered. “Oh hey John…” “Hello to you too. I’ve got your kid in case you care.” He scoffed at his phone and went out back to smoke while on the phone as his niece rested. “Well that’s actually what I’m calling about, you see…I’m as you can tell an extremely unfit mother. And uhm, you seem like a fit parent, so I’m taking it to court, I’m giving up my custody rights to you.” John nearly died, he wasn’t ready for this responsibility he’d have to quit his job unless someone watched her-. “What? Savannah you can’t just do that she’s your child plus I have a JOB. Who the hell would watch her?” “Our mother and father offered. Plus we have another sister who said she’s willing to.” 

John shook his head and sighed. “You’re awful Savannah, I would’ve fought you in court anyways this whole situation is fucked she’s 15. Do you even know anything about her life besides her name?” “I’ll miss my Autumn forever.” “You’re not even her mother to her, let me know the court dates I’ll be there. Bye.” John then hung up the phone and put out his cigarette and then he saw Autumn sitting on the couch waiting for him.

“How long have you been sitting there?” “Long enough to know you’re going to court, what’d you do?” John sighed and checked to see if she was a little more sober now and it seemed like she was so he dumped it all on her as best as he could. She did cry but she was so grateful that John would be her legal guardian, he’s been more of a parent then her actual parents.

Now it’s been around 8 months, John got custody and her mother was back in rehab. John was being deployed in a month so he was preparing the house for his mother to come stay at. “Do you haveee to go?” “Depends, you want a PS5 right?” “Yes..” “Then I’ll be back in 3 months.” She giggled at his joke and she went to go grab a snack, as she heard a knock on the door and opened it she noticed 3 very tall men.

“Hey uhm-I don’t think-UNCLE JOHN!!” All the three men looked at her confusion as John ran to the door to greet them. “Ah sorry, this is my niece Autumn, but I’d call her my daughter.” Autumn held out her hand shyly as she looked at all three of them as they all walked in and sat on the couch, she sat at the kitchen Island as John kept cleaning she got to know them.

“So you’re all in the military? But only Simon covers his face?” Simon smiled and responded “Right.” “So you’re an oddball?” “BE NICE.” She heard John yell. “I AM DAD-” John smiled to himself and noticed how she called him dad, he’s never felt so proud of himself before.

[halfblood-princes-crown]

I saw this in my emails from Quora and honestly…I’m dead asf

Ok, let’s unpack this:

Firstly, he looked down on her because she was a muggle while spying on her sister, with whom he was enchanted.

First part of the sentence I agree with but not in the way a snater would want me to. I could sit here and write an essay about WHY Severus would have a distaste for muggles but thats not the topic. Second part of this sentence is WILD…did you skim the book and not read it?

Here, let me fill you in:

"Lily, come on, we're leaving!" she said shrilly. Lily obeyed her sister at once, glaring at Snape as she left. He stood watching them as they marched through the playground gate, and Harry, the only one left to observe him, recognized Snape's bitter disappointment, and understood that Snape had been planning this moment for a while, and that it had all gone wrong...”

This ^ is the scene where he tells Lily that she’s a witch….context clues? He had been watching her and observing her do magic and planned on telling her that she was a witch, possibly to make a new friend. Had nothing to do with being “enchanted” (tf)

In this same scene, Harry describes Severus as looking “no more than nine or ten”…he was a fuckin KID…y’all have no shame. Has it ever crossed a snaters mind that poor, abused boy had no friends? Didn’t really know how to interact with people properly? Saw a witch his age and thought ‘FRIEND!” ? Nobody thought of that!?

Then decided to throw a branch on her because Petunia was eavesdropping their conversation.

…what?

"What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?"

There was a crack. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears.”

Yea. It was because she was eavesdropping. Sure, Jan. Let’s ignore and therefore defend making fun of poor people. Let’s ignore and therefore defend making fun of a little boy for “wearing his mother’s blouse” shall we? JKR would be proud.

And y’all act like he did it on purpose. He was a kid and we can’t honestly expect a kid to be able to control their magic fully!? But it’s Severus Snape and even him as a fucking CHILD couldn’t possibly do anything by accident, right? But let’s all go laugh at Harry releasing a boa constrictor on Dudley! Because that’s funny. Right?

It honestly confuses me when Snape haters bring up the branch incident because they’re always the same ones that fight tooth and nail to defend Harry’s ACCIDENT

A few days/months later, he and Lily went through Petunias room to read her letter.

Diary entry: Day 193728 of this fandom treating Lily like she’s perfect and does no wrong. There’s no food, no water, and everyone has lost their mind. I don’t how long I can make it out here. Send help.

“Setting a terrible example”…So basically the thought process is that Snape said “I wanna go through your sisters room” and Lily said ok and just let him right in like an idiot. I can’t even be mad at this because it honestly confirmes my long running theory that Lily is naive and can’t think for herself to save her life. Thank you for that. I’m glad to see Snape haters agree.

Awful boy, that James Potter

[sailorstarr-chan4]

from his world of unending night

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley (kinda) Rated: T Genre: Angst, with a dash of Hurt/Comfort Words: 3,207 Posted: ff.net and AO3 Dedicated to: @risingfire17-the-weeb-trash ❤

Sharing this here because, honestly? I'm genuinely proud of this fic. I tried my best to unpack Ginny's trauma and give her hope in the end. And I wanted to do justice to the fic I promised my bestie almost a year ago lol ^^"

TW: grooming, emotional/psychological abuse & manipulation, etc

~~~~

Even in the magical world, hearing voices isn’t a good sign. 

Her brother, Ron, once said those words to Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived had been hearing the Basilisk in the walls of Hogwarts, thanks to his ability to speak Parseltongue. 

But Ginny Weasley had been speaking with a disembodied voice long before Harry Potter first heard the whispers of death. 

Writing to Tom for all those months felt as natural as breathing. He was the bowl and she the faucet, pouring her thoughts and emotions like water gushing out of pipes. Except his bowl never seemed to overflow. There was no limit, no boundary expressed; Tom welcomed her juvenile worries with open arms. He encouraged her, conditioned her, seduced her. 

It only made sense that Ginny very quickly lost herself in his dark embrace. 

~~~

I suppose it’s time to write in this old thing. Hello, diary. My name is Ginny Weasley and I turned eleven years old today. 

Hello, Ginny Weasley. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come upon my diary? 

Ginny blinks, surprised. For a split second, she considers slamming the book shut and running to her father. But then, the thought evaporates and she grins happily. A talking diary! She grew up with magic and is not unaccustomed to these sorts of things, but this diary feels... special. Like an old friend she is reacquainting herself with. Ginny dips her quill into her inkwell, eager to reply to her new friend. 

Last week, I went shopping in Diagon Alley with my parents. I guess they found you in Flourish & Blotts and decided I could use a diary. Is it all right that I write here, even though it’s yours? 

What’s mine is yours, Ginny. And what’s yours is mine. I welcome you to my humble abode. 

~~~

In the aftermath of the Chamber of Secrets, at the Hospital Wing, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wept and embraced their daughter. Mr. Weasley did not say another word about her foolish trust in Tom Riddle’s diary, but the words still hung over their heads: “Never trust something that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Ginny sobbed into her mother’s bosom. She wasn’t sure why she kept repeating those words, but it became a mantra. A desperate cry for salvation. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Arthur said softly, stroking his daughter’s hair. “Dumbledore was right: there are plenty of other wizards and witches who have been bewitched by You-Know-Who.” 

Molly cleared her throat sharply, throwing her husband a stern look. She snuggled her baby girl closer. “We’re just so glad you’re alright,” she whispered, pressing kisses on Ginny’s forehead. 

Ginny cried and cried, unable to express in words her sorrow, how her chest ached with an emptiness now that Tom Riddle’s diary was destroyed. 

How, even now, despite everything, she desperately wanted to write to Tom. To spill out her grievances, to shatter like glass on stone. 

That bastard that took over her heart and soul was still the first person she wanted in her hour of need. 

~~~

No one ever understood me like you do, Tom. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I feel so lonely when I’m not writing to you. 

We are very much alike. We are surrounded yet alone. I would still be trapped without a voice if it wasn’t for you, Ginny. I need you to stay loyal to me.  

~~~

Ginny Weasley never knew a time when her brothers were not attending Hogwarts. She was a baby when Bill started his first year, and by the time she was six, her three eldest brothers were away at school most of the year. 

When Bill turned seventeen, the first “of age” spell he cast turned parchment into butterflies, and they danced around seven-year-old Ginny’s head, who squealed and tried to catch them. 

Smiling indulgently, Bill flicked his wand and allowed one parchment butterfly to land on her nose. It tickled and made her cross-eyed trying to gaze upon its lovely form. Ginny wrinkled her nose and shook her head, giggling, and the inky butterfly seemed to kiss the bridge of her nose before taking off. 

It left a mark of ink on the tip of her nose. 

Pitch-black liquid, dripping off the edge of her freckled nose, until her mother noticed and wiped it clean with her apron. 

~~~

The evening of the Sorting leaves Ginny with frayed nerves, like any First Year. But her worries vanish as she pulls out Tom’s diary once she climbs into her bed, an eerie calm settling over her as she describes Hogwarts and the Sorting to her invisible friend. 

I hope I can make friends here. 

You’ll always have me, Ginny. 

Ginny grins and rubs her nose bashfully. The ink smudge leaves a mark on her pillow the next morning.

~~~

Strange that she could remember that day with Bill so well, particularly when she received her wand at Ollivander’s. She had taken hold of the yew wood and vividly recalled the smell of ink and parchment, of Bill’s laughter in the background, of the blackness of the last bit of drying ink dripping gently off the butterfly’s wings. 

She waved her wand and sent vibrant yellow leaves falling out of thin air. 

She was the only one who noticed that they looked more like pieces of parchment. Parchment with smudges of black ink. 

She later wondered how no one could recognize an omen when they saw one. 

It was only when she made it home, laden with books and supplies, just like her brothers always did, that Ginny noticed the plain black diary resting in her cauldron. 

~~~

Tom, I don’t think I’ll fit in here. My brothers all did amazing things at Hogwarts, even Ron! And he’s best friends with Harry Potter! I feel awkward and gangly and small. It feels like no one even notices me. 

That’s impossible, Ginny. You brought my memory to life. That is a remarkable feat that a great many witches and wizards could never accomplish. How can anyone not notice you? 

~~~

The fact that her diary wrote back to her did not alarm Ginny as much as she thought it would. She knew it wasn’t like other ordinary “talking objects” (mirrors that compliment or criticize your appearance, notebooks that remind you to keep studying, etc). Tom was more sentient, more real, than those magical tools. Tom was her friend. 

Perhaps her lack of fear was the first sign that Tom Riddle had begun to thread tendrils of his essence into her mind. 

And by the time she realized, he had already made himself at home. 

An ink stain she could not scrub away. 

~~~

I think I’m in love, Tom. Harry Potter makes my heart skip a beat and I cannot speak in front of him. It’s exciting, but it’s also frustrating. I want his attention. No, better yet, I want his love! Help me, Tom!

Sweet Ginny, why do you need him when you have me? Now, tell me: who is this Harry Potter?

~~~

Tom’s dismissal of her crush on Harry Potter did not hurt so much as confuse Ginny. On one hand, he did not seem to like that she crushed on The-Boy-Who-Lived. On the other hand, he was intrigued, disturbingly so, with his story. 

Tom began encouraging her to “win over” Harry’s heart. He even patiently read her silly Valentine, which Ginny knew was rather silly, but she still felt proud of herself. It was the first time she ever put to words her feelings that weren't in Tom’s diary. 

But things began to change after Valentine’s Day… 

~~~

If only I could see you, Ginny. If words could be seen, I imagine you’re as beautiful as you sound. 

Ginny drops her quill. Her face flushes, and she squirms in her pajamas, suddenly feeling rather hot. 

Her lips are dry as she writes back a flustered reply. Tom soothes her, a balm on her nerves, and Ginny wonders how she ever envisioned herself in love with Harry Potter when her body feels as taut as a violin string. 

Later, when she splashes cold water on her face in the girls’ abandoned bathroom, she stares deeply into her reflection, her mind racing. Is she in love with Tom? Her own beloved talking diary? What does that say about her? Will Tom accept her feelings? If only he was real— 

She does not notice the flash of red in her reflected pupils before the world goes dark. 

~~~

The summer after That Terrible Year, Ginny spent her days locked up in her room. With no diary to keep, she was a wound up coil, aching for release, but too terrified to write anything. 

Her dreams recounted her conversations with Tom Riddle, back then so exciting and beautiful and romantic. 

Now they were tainted, oozing with slime and mucus, a nasty sinking pit in her stomach whenever she awoke with Tom’s smooth words in her mind. 

~~~

Ginny, you are so much smarter than other girls your age. I admire you. No…. I think it’s deeper than that — oh, but I cannot say. You’re still so young. 

Tom, you can’t tease a girl like that! Tell me! Tell ME!

Oh but, Ginny, don’t you see? Teasing you brings me joy. You do want to keep your friends happy, don’t you? 

Of course, I do! But…. Do you love me, Tom? 

Ginny pauses in her writing. Her heart is pounding. She is almost tempted to follow up with a “just kidding, haha!” but curiosity grips her mind. She needs to know. 

A drop of ink appears on the page. It’s as if Tom is poised with his quill, debating on how to answer. 

Another drop. Another. He is holding her in suspense, but Ginny does not mind. Her mouth is dry, her heart in her throat. She all but forgets Harry Potter’s name. There is only Tom Tom Tom Tom… 

Tom? 

Ginny…. you know the answer. 

~~~

It was funny that looking back, Tom never outright said he loved her. 

He complimented her. He praised her, cajoled, tempted, teased, and tormented. 

But the word “love” was never written on his end. Not even in mockery or quotation. Not even after Ginny confessed her feelings. 

~~~

I think I’m in love, Tom. For real, this  time. I’m In love with…. you. 

Of course you are, Ginny. You should be. Who else can I depend on? 

~~~

Eleven years old was no age to play at being in love. Fantasize, giggle, wonder, dream, yes, but never enact. 

Ginny Weasley faced the years following the Tom Riddle ordeal with a growing pain in her heart. 

It was not remorse. 

It was disgust. 

Ginny Weasley turned twelve years old when it hit her that exactly one year ago, she wrote her first entry into Tom Riddle’s diary. While her family prepared her birthday dinner, she snuck into the loo, and retched for twenty minutes, her throat closing up, tears streaming down her face. 

Nothing came up. Not even after she managed to consume her food and birthday cake. 

A cruel irony. Even in death, Tom could not give her release. 

~~~

Tom, Tom, you love me, right? You promise you’ll love me no matter what, right? 

Why do you ask such a silly question, Ginny? 

Because I think I’m the one attacking students! Oh, Tom, what have I done?! 

Oh. My precious Ginny. Sweet, silly Ginny. You did nothing wrong. 

But Tom, I — 

You only need to heed my words. Do not pay attention to those fools at the castle. Here, in my diary, I tell you what’s right. I tell you what’s wrong. You, my dear, did nothing wrong to those Mudblood scum. 

No. No. No. 

Ginny gasps and drops her quill, clutching her pounding head. 

She was a Weasley. Weasleys do not hate Muggles! Her father adores them! Her father taught her brothers and her to respect and appreciate the methods of Muggles living life without magic, and always said that Muggleborns were no different than Purebloods. 

But Tom says…. Tom says— He— 

Ginny barely makes it to the loo when she vomits. And then her world goes black. 

She awakes with blood-covered feathers all over her robes and screams and screams, until Moaning Myrtle joins her wailing, their cries reverberating off the walls in an echo chamber that no one would heed. 

~~~

It had been barely three months after the end of her terrible First Year when Ginny Weasley faced an almost worse dilemma on her way back to Hogwarts. 

The Dementors. 

Those vile creatures made her relive her possessed moments, this time with crystal clear details. What once had been strange, corrupted images in her mind’s eye was now playing out for her in real time. 

Walking to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom in a haze, speaking Parseltongue with Tom’s voice, opening up the Chamber of Secrets. 

The first bloody message she wrote on Hogwarts walls: “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.” 

Brutally murdering Hagrid’s roosters. 

Destroying Harry’s dorm to find the Diary. 

Directing the Basilisk to each victim, her finger pointing to Mrs. Norris, Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater…. 

And Tom whispering, always whispering, in her mind… 

When Professor Lupin drove away the Dementor from their train compartment, Ginny awoke from her vision with a start. Despite seeing Harry writhing on the floor, unconscious and in pain, she could only focus on herself, shaken to her core. Did she really do all that? She already knew, of course, but she never realized how…. horrible it all was… 

She began to cry and could not stop until they reached Hogsmeade Station. Hermione’s hug could not drive away the demons. 

~~~

When Tom emerges from the Diary, Ginny almost forgets her hate. Barely too weak to stand upright, she stares at the young man who is her ruin. 

He was just so… handsome. So bloody, bloody gorgeous! 

She swallows hard, her breath quickening as he saunters over, smirking at her weakened state. Ginny suddenly hates her appearance, gross and unkempt, her fingers covered in rooster blood from the last message left to Hogwarts. 

“Here you are, at last! My dear, little Ginny. Such a good girl. You obeyed me perfectly. I am so proud.” He smiles down at her, perfect white teeth glinting in the green light. 

Ginny closes her eyes with a whimper. Even his voice is beautiful! Silky, smooth, deep, and sure. She hates herself for blushing. 

“Tom… why? Why did you make me–?” 

Suddenly, he’s directly in front of her, his hand a vice-like grip around her throat, his beautiful dark eyes turning blood-red. He isn’t mad, but calculating in his violent amusement. Ginny’s vision blurs, her knees hitting the wet stone beneath her. 

“I did nothing, my dear. It was your fault for listening to me. You should have known better, but alas. What else can you expect from a silly, lovesick girl?” 

As Ginny falls into darkness, she distantly realizes it was the first time he ever said the word “love.” 

~~~

When Ginny Weasley awoke in the Chamber of Secrets, with a bleeding Harry Potter holding the destroyed remnants of Tom Riddle’s Diary, she made a vow to herself. A vow she could not at the time convey in words even if she tried, but a vow nonetheless. 

The following school year she began talking more. Just talking. She still could not bring herself to speak in front of Harry (the shame had not quite disappeared), but she laughed more with Fred and George, she rolled her eyes at Ron, she wrinkled her nose at Percy’s pompousness. 

And she found herself inching closer to Hermione’s companionship. She wondered if perhaps she had a sister, a bossy knowledgeable sister like Hermione, if she would have revealed the horror of Tom Riddle much sooner. 

Even as she grew closer to her family and friends, she still never discussed her year under Tom Riddle’s control. No one pried and she did not reveal. 

Until nearly three years later, when Harry Potter believed himself to be under Voldemort’s control. 

Ginny snapped that he was forgetting to consult with the one person in their acquaintance who actually had been under Voldemort’s possession. She spoke of darkness, missing chunks of memory, blank spots in unexpected moments.

And suddenly, a lightness fills her. 

~~~

While Harry Potter battles with Voldemort’s Basilisk, Ginny Weasley is drowning. 

Except she is not in a pool of water, but slimy, ebony ink. It clings to her skin, it dyes her hair, it fills her nose, her mouth, her throat…. 

But she does not die. Only lingers in this unending blackness. 

She weeps black tears and cries for Tom to release her, Tom please forgive her, Tom loves her and needs to save her…. 

But Tom Riddle only laughs mirthlessly. His handsome face and gorgeous, unfeeling eyes haunting her mind as she sinks deeper into the abyss… 

~~~

The night after she confessed about her possession to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Ginny dreamed of Tom. Only it wasn’t nightmare fuel that terrorized her nights for so long. 

Tom Riddle was closer to her own age now. Instead of the handsome, out-of-reach older boy, he seemed more her peer than ever before. 

“Ginny, why couldn’t you stay with me? Why did you leave me?” he pleaded, his beautiful dark eyes aching with grief. 

And that’s how Ginny knew this was only a dream. 

“Things would never have worked out between us, darling,” she whispered to this fake Tom, to the Tom of her childish whimsies. “You are not this way. You never were.” 

Tom smirked slightly and he began to resemble the real Tom Riddle, only still a little too soft, a little too fragile. “I suppose you’re right. You really are very smart for your age.” 

“I’m not the little girl you once knew,” Ginny murmured. 

“Perhaps not. But you’ve grown wiser. Because of me.” 

Ginny clenched her fists so hard she could almost feel it in real life. Because of Tom? No, she had grown up in spite of Tom. She could have easily succumbed to the trauma and lost herself. She hid her pain and suffering and endured nightmares, Dementors, humiliation, and the terrible burden of committing heinous acts against her free will. 

No, she did not grow wiser or stronger or anything because of Tom. In fact, she barely believed she was any stronger or wiser now. 

But she did not have to endure Tom Riddle anymore. 

Ginny looked into Dream Tom’s deceiving loving eyes and took a deep breath: “I gave you my mind blindly, but no more. You have no power over me.” 

Tom snarled and his eyes flared red and he lunged at Ginny, but this was only a dream, and sure enough, his body vanished into green smoke, and Ginny was free-falling in darkness, except there was a light below her feet and— 

“Ginny? Ginny!” 

She awoke with a start. Hermione Granger hovered over her, her eyebrows contracted in concern. 

“Are you alright?” 

Ginny nodded slowly, then looked to her left towards the window. She smiled softly. 

“I am. It’s daylight.” 

[theapollosystem]

finally got moved into my new place, i unpacked a tiny bit but ill do most of my unpacking tommorow

the relief i felt of just im finally away from home and im here to stay in this apartment for the foreseeable future, I don’t have to worry about moving out for the summer.

it’s nice to now i’m living in a permanent place and i don’t have to worry about going back home. just so much anxiety i didn’t even know I was holding came off my shoulders as im just laying down watching some youtube.

Yeah but it does get better and we’re finally out of our abuse home. We only have to be like cordial with our parents for like a year, then we’re practically just free. Our parents are also gonna dumb us anyways cause our mother wants us never to move back home again.

[hannahgrace276]

Feels Right

a/n: this is my first ever story so don’t judge and if u don’t like it u don’t have to read it also not proofread and prob a bunch of grammar mistake

contains smut and fluff

Me and my sister, belly are in the back seat while my mom, laurel and my brother, steven are in the front. Well the truth is that Steven, belly, and laurel aren’t really my blood family. Laurel took me in when I was 5 because my mother died and … my father .. he wasn’t meant to have children. He was an abusive father and laurel saw that when her and mother would hang out so when she asked him if I could live with them he said he didn’t want me and for her to just take me.

“Are we almost there yet “ asked belly “ yeah we’re about 15 minutes away” replied Steven. We were driving to Susannah’s house. Susannah was laurels best friend since forever. Every summer since laurel took me in we went to her house. I loved everything about Susannah. Her, her home, and her boys. Conrad and Jeremiah. Me and Jeremiah were best friends since forever. I always loved Jeremiah more than a friend but I didn’t realize my feeling til I was about 12. “ wait can we stop at the gas station” I asked “sure” answered laurel. When we made it to the gas station nobody wanted to get down so I went down to grab everybody snacks. I grabbed chips for Steven, sour patches for belly, soda for laurel, and two packs of gummy bears for me and jere. We both have the same favorite candy.

I headed for the checkout. As the cashier scanned my items he was looking at me. “ I thought I knew every pretty girl in cousin” he said “ well I’m pretty sure the pretty girls don’t want to know u “ I said to myself “ what “ he said “ oh nothing “ I replied “ I’m going to a bonfire tonight and I would like for u to come with me” he asked “ actually I’m already going with somebody so I’m gonna decline” I told him “oh okay so have a good day and see you there” I didn’t reply. The truth was that I wasn’t going to the bonfire with anyone. I got back into the car and we drove to Susannah’s beach house.

“We are here” said Steven finally I thought . Everyone got out to say hi to everybody while I stayed in the car thinking. I was gonna tell Jeremiah Fisher my feelings for him this summer. I finally got out of the car and walked over to Susannah first “ I missed u so much “ I said as I pulled her into a hug “ me too y/n you look so much older” after we finished catching up I walked over to Conrad “ I missed u conny “ I told him “me too “ he replied as we hugged. Finally I ran over to Jeremiah we both didn’t say anything I just ran up to him and hugged him. As we hugged I wrapped my legs around him as he held my waist. “ I missed u” he told me “ I missed u too jere I brought u gummy worms” I told him “ our favorite”.

everyone was unpacking while the moms were talking. As I walking into my room jere followed me. “ hey jere can u help me unpack” I asked “yeah sure anything for you” he replied this made me smile I thought to myself if me meant anything he should help me out with my thought were cut out by Jeremiah voice “ can we go to the beach right now” he asked “ yeah just let me get changed” “okay” he said “well you have to get out then I can change” I said “ what if I don’t want to “ I froze I didn’t know what to say but I replied with “ then I’m can’t change “ “ fine I leave but be quick “ he said while closing the door behind him .

I was gonna put on my favorite one piece but then I remembered what my best friend Taylor said. I decided to put on a cute bikini.

u met jere at the beach and he look amazed for some reason. “ u look amazing y/n “ he said “ thanks” we walked down to the ocean and played with the water together.

once we were finished with the water we walked back to the house while hold each others hand. “ jere can I ask you something “ “ yea sure anything “ he replied “ can we go to a bonfire tonight together pls” “ yeah actually I was about to ask you if u wanted to go” we made it to the house “ well I gotta get ready but be ready in an hour okay” “ okay I replied. How was I gonna get ready in an hour. After I took a shower I put on some light makeup. Then I decided to put this outfit on :

with my white converse

I met with Jeremiah. “ you look beautiful” he said “ Thxs “ u replied. While he was driving he kept his hand on your high. You kept on wishing it would go higher and higher, until Jeremiah’s voice cut out ur thoughts “ don’t drink to much and I won’t be drink since I gotta drive okay” “yeah “ u replied. We finally got to the bonfire. Jeremiah had to kept on leave to say hi to people so u just sat down bc u knew he wasn’t gonna hang out with you . “ hey pretty girl wanna come with me I’m gonna get another beer“ this voice was the guy from the gas station “umm hey I not really drinking “ u said “just come on one drink doesn’t hurt “ he said “leave me alone okay” u said. Then he grabbed ur arm dragging u. U tried to fight him but he was just too strong. Then finally jere saw “. Leave her alone she doesn’t want to go with you” jere said as he staring punching the guy. Once jere was done that guys left. “Thxs “ u said “sorry for leaving u” he said “ it is okay” “ jere come back “ one girl said “ I gonna be right back “ he said I nodded I knew he wasn’t . I not gonna lie to my self I was a little jealous he wasn’t hanging out with me. But once he kissed that girl i was so angry. I drank a lot . And a lot. I thought he was gonna hang out with me that’s why he was gonna ask me .finally I walked over to him amid kiss with this girl. I want to go home now. “ can’t you see we’re doing something “ the girl said “okay I gotta go “ he said to the girl. Me and Jere walked got into the car. “ how much have you drank” jere asked I didn’t answer “ are u mad at me “ he asked “ OF COURSE” I said “ what did I do” he asked “WHATTT DIDD UU DOO , I THOUGHTF U WERE E GONA HANG OUT WITH ME NO U WEREE TO BUSSYY HOOKING UPP WITH SOME GIRLL !!! i just want to hang out with youuu and u abandoned me” I said well slurring my words he didn’t say anything he just drove. When we got home he finally started to talk “ I’m sorry y/n “ he said “ it’s fine “ I said “ no it’s not I’m should have hang out with you how can I make it up to you “ he asked “ first never do that again, help me get ready for sleep, and lay in my bed with me” I said “okay I can do that”

he got me changed all he had to do was take off my dress and put on a comfy shirt since I have shorts under my dress. “ goodnight y/n “ jere said “ goodnight jere “ u said . You woke up at like 10 am. You walked downstairs to see jere making you his famous hangover smoothie. He gives u a cup and u take it and drink it. “ wanna go to a driving in movie at 5” jere asked “ of course “ you said

Time skipped to 4

I should start getting ready you took a shower , did ur makeup , and put on this outfit:

you were ready at 430 jere was also ready he drove you to the drive in. While he was driving he kept his hand on ur thigh but this time he kept on going higher and higher. You couldn’t take it anymore you told him to pull over. “Jeremiah I have to tell u something” “ okay tell me” he said “ I have feelings for you “ u could even finish your sentence when he smashed his lips into yours. “ I feel the same” he told you . You kept on kissing him, as you were kissing him he was pushing his tongue in your mouth and staring to explore it. He stoped kissing. “ do you wanna go in the back “ he asked embarrassed “ yes please” you answered. As soon as you got in the back you were straddling him while keeping the kiss. Finally he stop and asked if he could take over you hoodie u nodded after he took it off you in clipped your bra. He look at you for consent you nodded again. After u nodded he started to suck on ur nipples. U let out soft moans. He started kissing he way down to ur pants. “ may I “ he asked “yes” u answered you helped him take out ur pants he then took off your underwear and put them in his pocket. I knew he could feel how wet I was. Slowly he inserted two fingers inside of me and started to gain sped. Then he started to kissing my inner thigh then he started to suck on my clit drawing circles with his tongue. “ jere I gonna cum “ I told him and I did and he licked it all up. I started to kiss me and then I took off his shirt and pants with his help. I looked at his boxers I could tell he was hard so I took off his boxers. He was really big and I was doubting if I could fit that in my mouth. I put his tip in my mouth starting to suck on it then I try to push his full length in my mouth. I bob my head back and forth finally he comes I swallow all of it there was a lot trust me. Jere gave me a bunch of kisses then we got dressed. “That was amazing “ I told him “yeah it was “ he said “ we probably missed some of the movies “ he told me I laughed he laughed to . “ wanna go home and watch a movie together” he asked “ sounds amazing” I answered. All of this just FEELS RIGHT.

gonna make a part 2

[saintbehemoth]

Okay, okay, late with this ask, but I wanna unpack the sentiment that Daemon may have been preyed upon by an adult in his family as a child which led to his strange view of ‘sparing’ Rhaenyra from what would have been a consensual relationship with him.

So, who are our potential suspects?

In terms of family they had a lot at the time of Daemon’s childhood, but steadily lost more as time went on.

In no particular order:

Alyssa: the likelihood of Alyssa preying on her child in such a way, given what the book established about her love for her sons, seems very unlikely.

Baelon: if we’re framing daemon’s potential exploitation as a result of Alyssa dying Baelon potentially trying to “cope” 🤢 with her absence. Out of both of their children I picture Daemon physically resembling Alyssa the most (see: big ears). With this in mind, I’m not sure how likely or unlikely this would be. Baelon didn’t seem like the most present father, though both of his sons seem to remember him fondly.

Aemon: this one is a bit strange in the sense that daemon could have also become a coping device for the loss of alyssa. It could also attribute to some of the unnamed tension between rhaenys and daemon. Maybe she saw her father and her cousin acting strangely?Additionally, if it was Aemon that makes daemon’s taming of Caraxes that much more interesting. Claiming a piece of the uncle that tarnished him. That being said, Aemon was consistently described as being a protector within the family, so 🤷‍♀️.

Dishonorable mention: not family, but Otto. Just saying…

Let’s just say this interpretation of daemon (perpetuating a cycle of abuse) is making my abl brain light up

thrilled to talk about it!! always happy to. cycle of abuse goes crazy

edit: read this through and supposed i should add trigger warnings 😬 incest. childhood sexual abuse. grooming. dd:dne

i agree it’s not alyssa, who also died when daemon was about 3. she definitely haunts him for the rest of his life though - apparently being her favourite despite not being able to remember her, looking like her, both wilful + bold…..

yeah, i think baelon was a fine guy, but not a particularly good father. preferred making children to actually having them yk. i do think he was weird wrt family dynamics, in a targaryen way. way too close/familiar/intimate with (also dependant on) his siblings. currently playing with the idea that baelon was the one to get gael pregnant, because he ‘needed’ a new sisterwife…

ooohhh, i hadn’t thought of aemon. i always attributed the rhaenys daemon tension to him claiming her dead dad’s dragon. i always pictured it a bit like a cycle of vengeance, like rhaenys claimed daemon’s dead mother’s dragon p much right after her death, so daemon did the same and stole caraxes as a memory of aemon from right under her nose. and then of course that daemon raised an army for/supported viserys during the inheritance council and not her. brothers before cousins i guess

speaking of viserys….. can you guess who my number one suspect is…. 🤗🤗

yeeees, i think it was viserys. my friend worked out the age difference in the show and i think it’s something like 11 years ??! all guesstimation of course. in f&b the difference is 4 years. i like to place them 7 years apart. anyway the point is viserys is much older and in a position of power over his younger brother, both by placement of birth and then he becomes the heir…

some things that i think come into play here:

1. the targaryen obsession with having a daughter to match a son. see alysanne’s comment that alyssa “is for” baelon. the second child ‘ought’ to be a daughter, so technically daemon was supposed to be a girl anyway and thus viserys’ wife :/// also i think viserys would, perhaps subconsciously, blame daemon for not being a girl and causing him problems with finding a wife and eventually having to marry his not-sister aemma arryn, so that blame would manifest in… evil ways. ALSO what you said about daemon resembling alyssa - he’s basically a girl anyway, right? 🤔

2. daemon’s sudden not-banishment from court aged 16, to marry rhea royce. coincidentally the year of rhaenyras birth. how he and rhea never consummated. daemon’s subsequent back and forth in viserys’ court - one minute he is favoured, the next cast out. his complication relationship with his brother, clearly resenting him and his weakness but still crawling back like a dog every time, no matter how furious viserys was when he sent him away…… the complicated love/hate towards a once-beloved abuser…

and so, daemons sad attempt at ending the cycle. my brother badtouched me → i will badtouch his daughter. i think there’s smth to be said about daemon having two motives in the brothel scene at first, firstly he does love and desire rhaenyra but secondly he wants to ‘get back’ at his brother, but then of course realises that he doesn’t want to use rhaenyra as a pawn in that sense at all. crazy that years later he claims it was a sparing but at the time we know he asked viserys for rhaenyra’s hand… in his mind to be spared is from a rough reputation-ruining fuck, not from publicly recognised and supported incest…. can’t remember where i was going with this ^-^ something about secret/private vs public

okay last suspect. personally i think a combination of this one + viserys is [static sounds] x_x : corlys. daemon fought in the first stepstone war at about 16, corlys was velaryon commander and much, much older. perhaps the source of that tension between daemon and rhaenys you mentioned….. how to reconcile your husband with the solider who took advantage of your younger cousin on the battlefield. can see the excuse of ‘war’/‘all men do this during fighting times’ being used on daemon. older respected man in a position of power vs young second son desperate to prove himself….. what a combo

SLSMAJHD OTTO. i am a believer in otto ‘groomer’ hightower, but i think daemon wouldn’t stand for it from a non-family member…. like with otto he can complain to the king, but what can he do when the king is the one molesting him…

hope this made sense i wrote it in two sittings so it might be a bit garbled ;_; ty for asking ❤️‍🔥

[girl4music]

KATHERINE: “Maya. Talk to me.”

MAYA: “I have an event to organize, Mom. We’re doing this spaghetti fundraiser dinner tonight, and-“

KATHERINE: “Then let me help. I used to organize the spaghetti dinners for your track team.”

MAYA: “No, you didn’t.”

KATHERINE: “Well, no. Your-your father didn’t let me. He didn’t like me socializing-“

MAYA:

*slams her notebook down on the desk*

“Did you come here just to bad-mouth Dad?”

KATHERINE: “No, honey. I came here to talk to you. And to apologize for the abuse because I didn’t-I didn’t protect you, and, and-and that is a mother’s job. I’m so sorry I-“

MAYA: “What? What are you talking about?”

KATHERINE: “Maya. Sweetie, I know you love your Dad-“

MAYA: “I do love my Dad. I also literally don’t know what you’re talking about.”

KATHERINE: “The silent treatments? The broken dishes? The fist-sized holes in our walls? The 90-mile-an-hour drives home from your track meets?”

MAYA: “He’s emotional.”

KATHERINE: “Yes, and he uses his emotions to control us. All of us. Maya… your father is abusive.

*Maya scoffs*

I was in crisis.”

MAYA: “Wow, Mom. Drama much?

*alarm sounds to call the firefighters out*

Fire. Now that is a crisis.”

*she gets up and leaves to go out the door*

KATHERINE: “Maya, wait.”

Wow… they’re doing an abuse storyline for Maya’s character. It took me awhile but I eventually picked this up about Maya before the mother had to come into the narrative because I’ve seen this before in my own life. Psychological and emotional abuse is a BITCH to unpack and heal but they wouldn’t be doing this narrative as part of Maya exploring her complex trauma if they don’t intend on unpacking and healing it. It’s a long road when the character it’s happening to is completely oblivious of it. And it looks like… she is.

As I said before about Maya - the reason why she is the way she is: repressed and so closed off to her own emotions that the rare times she does cry, she can’t stop and the many times she doesn’t let herself cry, she’s a ticking time-bomb waiting to go off. It’s all come from a past and background of abuse but she hasn’t recognized it herself as abuse so that’s why her own behaviour as a leader (a Captain) is not so great. As soon as I was shown in several flashbacks in her character’s backstory that it was because of her father’s psychological and emotional abuse of her why she was acting the abusive way she was with her team my perception of her immediately changed. I knew what her story was going to be because it’s a story I’ve experienced myself being a victim of abuse as well - only I was always very well aware that I was being abused because I had other family and friends that were able to surround me that constantly reminded me that the way my father was treating me and my mom was not okay and that we shouldn’t stand for it.

And well… my father’s dead now so… it’s not going to be too be much of a problem if I express myself on it. He was never physically abusive. He never hit either me or my mom, so we, at the time, didn’t think it was that serious enough to be reported the way he treated us both. And so we never did. We let it carry on. All the verbal insults, the attempted gaslighting, the bouts of anger that seemingly would just come from nowhere because he never took drugs or was an excessive drinker. There was no influence on him that made him like that. He was just… like that. And we suffered for it.

Despite all the years we lived with him me and my mom didn’t really know him all that well because he never told us anything about him. Even when we asked, he would just say it’s none of our business. He was very emotionally closed off and distant. He wouldn’t express his emotions - except anger and resentment. Those he expressed all too often and it was always terrifying because we never knew whether he was going to be violent. Physically violent. He was violent in other ways but it’s a hard thing for me to explain how because sometimes I feel like it would have hurt less if he did hit us. Psychological and emotional abuse is painful but it’s a type of pain that doesn’t ever heal the way it would with a cut or other type of wound. The way it naturally would. No, it’s a pain that moulds into you and sticks with you until it becomes part of you. Until you become that of which put that pain into you to begin with. It’s a pain that makes a monster. Not helps you fight one. And sometimes, that pain can be so deeply embedded into you that you don’t even recognize it for being that: Pain. And that you don’t even think of what gave you that pain as what it actually is. Psychological abuse.

That’s Maya. Her reality has been warped to the point where she still sees her abusive father as her parent. Her motivator. Maybe even her protector. Even at the age that she is now when she’s well aware of what abuse is and what it can look like, how it can affect the psyche…. All of it. She’s just not aware she’s been a victim of it herself. And her mother comes to visit her after leaving her father and tells her that that’s what she’s had to do. Maya rejects her reconnection because she doesn’t agree that her father deserves to be left. She wouldn’t because she doesn’t see what he did to her as abuse. Nor what he did to her mother.

It’s going to be interesting but also likely difficult for me to watch Maya’s arc going forward because I’m not where Maya is at. In fact I’ve never been where she’s at because my reality was never as warped as hers. My father’s attempts to gaslight me failed due to the love and support I had from the people around me and my own capability for discernment as I grew older but his psychological conditioning remains with me regardless because I was still moulded into a monster and it took me years to realize that I never unlocked the cage he tried to force and keep me and my mom in by externalizing my pain, I was only locking myself in it for him by falling into hurt people hurt people. It wasn’t a way of escape and it wasn’t fighting back. It was shutting those that loved and cared about me out while also incarcerating and isolating myself from them. My armour was piled on and my walls were up but I wasn’t protecting or defending myself. I became the enemy that dished out the abuse as he did to me.

Now you would think that because I was always aware that it was abuse what my father was doing to me at the time, that I would have never treated others that way. Nope. That’s actually what made me worse than him. Because I was fully aware I was abusing people.

The switch never clicked. It had to be the hard way. Someone had to force their way right through me. And the good thing is that I never actually met that person. It’s a whole story for another day but I can say that that is the reason why I manifested psychic ability. If you’ve ever read ‘Firestarter’ or ‘Carrie’, you’ll get this.

I don’t know if Maya will get to where I am at in her story and journey with healing from abuse with her reality being so thoroughly warped as it clearly is but I sincerely hope she does because this one will hurt and I need the resolution if I’m going to dig into the very familiar traumatic dirt of my past by watching her arc.

If you know me and you’ve ever wondered why I am so self-aware and assertive in my character - this is why. I’ve just never expressed it because my Dad was alive. Now he is dead, I have no fear or hang ups whatsoever expressing how much his abuse has influenced that. I think I’m just lucky I have never been where Maya is but - at the same time - I might have hurt less people because I wouldn’t have been constantly fighting a battle in myself that I could never had a victory with.

[pics-and-fanfics]

A Line Was Crossed

Pairing: not really one, it just focuses on Y/n. Yes, Draco and the golden trio are friends in this one!

Warnings: mentions of dead mom, verbal abuse, screaming, use of emotions and past mistakes as leverage/ammo, angst, reader blaming herself, lil bit of fluff, explanation of how mom died

Summary: Dolores Umbridge crosses a line that should never be crossed. And yes Ik this is different from my normal stuff, but this has been spinning in my head for half an hour before I decided to write this!

If your interested, you can find my other works here!

You unpack your bag, huffing. You did not want to have to deal with another day of Umbridge and her shit.

“And don’t forget to stay tuned in to see what kind of shit Dolores Umbridge pulls in today’s class!” Draco says as he walks in, sitting down next to you. You laugh, feeling a soft hit to the back of your head, seeing Hermione sit in her seat behind you.

“Well good morning to you too, ‘Mione!” you say, and she rolls her eyes. “You woke up everyone in the dorm last night with your snoring. Honestly, I think it’s gotten worse.”

“Sorry ‘Mione, but I dunno what you want me to do. It’s not like I can just not sleep.” you say, your hand playing with your choker. It was a nervous habit, one you’d do when you needed a bit of extra comfort.

“Good morning class, I expect you finished all your homework and are ready to turn it in.” Umbridge says, and you groan, turning back around in your seat. You were going to hate today.

😢

Somehow the topic had drifted to the Unforgivable Curses again, just like almost every class. You were just glad Neville wasn’t here so he wouldn’t have people throwing it at him almost every day.

“Y/n? Are you even listening?” “Hmm? Sorry.” you say, refocusing on the talks.

It’d only been two minutes. 2. Minutes.

“Tell me, do you enjoy hurting people?” Umbridge asked you, and you seethed. “I don’t believe-“

“Do you enjoy killing?” “I’ll kill you.” you say, looking her in the eye.

“What, like you did your mother?”

Your heart dropped as you processed what Umbridge just said. “Y/n-“ Draco says, but you ignore him.

The sound of your chair scraping loudly on the floor echoes throughout the room as you get up, shoving your things in your bag.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Umbridge asked as you grabbed the door handle. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

“You- crossed- a fucking line- that should not- have been crossed.” Your voice was shaky, there were tears in your eyes.

“What? Are you upset? Because I’m trying to reveal the truth?” You spin around, feeling the tears roll down your face as your classmates watch.

“YOU CROSSED A FUCKING LINE DOLORES! YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER! YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED! YOU CROSSED A LINE! A LINE, THAT MIGHT I ADD, SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN CROSSED?!” You were practically screaming, and you swung the door open before slamming it shut behind you, a resounding boom coming from behind you as you run down the stairs.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you were getting away from her, so it had to be better, right?

😢

You sit under one of the tables in the Great Hall, head on your arms, arms on your knees. You tried to muffle your sobs. You didn’t need the whole school knowing you were crying.

“Y/n! Y/n!” you heard Harry shout, and you cover your mouth, begging yourself to shut up.

“Where did she go?” Ron asks, and you see his shoes walk past the table. You pull your knees closer to your chest, making sure your shoes weren’t visible. “I’m not sure. Draco, did you already check the Slytherin common room?”

“Yes, Potter. Did you check Gryffindor’s?” “She’s not there!” Hermione’s voice yelled, her footsteps running in. “She’s got to be around here somewhere, we’ve checked basically everywhere.”

You wince hearing a hiccup slip out of your throat, and four pairs of feet turn to where you were hiding.

“Y/n?” Ron’s voice was soft as you saw him squat down, looking under the table. You cover your face, trying to dry your tears. God, this was embarrassing. “Hey, it’s okay, we’re not mad.”

You look over when you feel Hermione scoot in next to you, sitting on her ankles as she bent forwards. Harry followed, and so did Draco. You felt another sob rise in your throat as Hermione rubbed your back, Draco’s head on your shoulder.

You sat there like that, in silence, for a while. When you were finally able to see straight, you rubbed your nose.

“I’m sorry.” you mutter, burying your face into your jeans. “Hey, none of that. It’s not your fault, stop blaming yourself. She-“

“But it is my fault, Harry! She died trying to stop me from getting hurt because I didn’t listen to her. It’s my fault!” you say, your hands fisting the ends of your pant legs. You explain what had happened.

😢

You’d been playing in the road, and a truck was barreling down the road, way too fast for how dark it was. You’d followed a kitten, trying to befriend it so it would come with you. You’d always loved animals.

Your mother had seen, and rushed outside, shoving you out of the way just before you got hit. But, because of that, she’d been run over, dying almost immediately. The car had screeched to a stop, and the rest you’d forgotten, which was a small mercy.

😢

“Y/n, it’s not your fault. She crossed a line, she’s the one in the wrong here. Not you. You were just a kid.” Draco says, and you sniff, snot running out of your nose.

“It was-“ “Not your fault. Now stop blaming yourself, or I’m going to like you.” Ron says, and you laugh. “There, that’s better. Now, who’s going to tell Dumbledore?”

You crawl out from under the table, helping Hermione up, then Ron. “I call dibs, my eyes are still red and I want to be the one to get that hag kicked out.”

“That’s the girl I know and am slightly terrified of!” Draco jokes, and you shove him lightly.

😢

Anyways, thank you for reading, and lmk what you thought of this Hogwarts fic! Have a wonderful day, lovelies! Don’t forget to ask me if you want to be tagged later!

@vbecker10 @silverfire475 @huntress-artemiss @vickie5446 @sheris532 @lokixryss @lokidokieokie @stupidthoughtsinwriting @crimson25 @peaches1958 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

[about-faces]

oh man the stuff with his dad is... Something. TW for abuse and being apologetic towards abusers.

Misha!Harv's dad is given a completely made up thing called 'identity dysmorphia' and they try to equate love-bombing that abusers do as "actual" love. Like that his dad was a 'really good person who really loved Harvey' he just was... mentally ill. Idk as someone who's been through abuse and had love-bombing done to me, I dont think any mental illness would be excuse enough for me to forgive them? I remember the psychologist telling him to forgive his dad, i'm not sure if that was said verbatim could be misremembering, but as someone who is working towards being a therapist that is something you do NOT tell a survivor to do.

Ohhhhhh boy then I’m definitely gonna have shit to unpack with this when I see it. Time to overshare a bit!

My Dad was an alcoholic, and while he was never physically abusive beyond threats, he would vacillate between syrupy sweetness and adoration of me one moment and bitter, resentful abuse the next and back again, with no warning or acknowledgement. I’m sure my dad had some undiagnosed disorder on top of the alcoholism, which just twisted and magnified his issues that were already present.

My own therapist can’t really understand how living with this fucked me up, or at least I feel like I can never explain what it was really like. It’s why I kept going back to Eye of the Beholder and Crime & Punishment all these decades, because they capture the experience better than anything I’ve seen outside of Immortal Hulk. And even there, the father was just a monster. Whereas Harvey’s dad in those stories always struck me as more like my own: a man who did, in his own way, have genuine love… but it was twisted by something inside even before it was drowned in booze.

(What’s really fucked up is that I think I actually DO forgive him… but that only happened with a decade of him being dead and the gradual acceptance that my mother was worse and more damaging to me than he was.)

Which is to say, I may well have some huge problems with this take on Harvey’s dad when I see it. But it sounds like there’s at least more to chew on here than in most of the other (very few) takes on the abuse which acknowledge it happened but minimize it to just a violent monster, without the Jekyll/Hyde factor of alcoholism meeting unexamined mental illness.

And while I don’t expect the show to do this, I think it WOULD be valid to have a story with some well-meaning, dangerously-misguided therapist pushing for forgiveness, which is where EotB’s Gilda can come in and say “fuck that, he’s a monster, he’ll never change.”

[aftonfamilyvalues]

When I took psychology and we were learning about attraction, it’s actually more so that people select partners that look similar to themselves, due to the belief that someone who looks like you is more likely to share similar opinions.

Peoole suggesting you’re attracted to partners who look like your parent repulse me, my father once asked me if I found him attracted, I flat out said no. He’s so disgusting. Every guy I’ve ever been attracted to has been the polar opposite, personality and otherwise. I avoid most men cause they remind me of my father in the sense they’re misogynistic, porn sick, degenerate, etc. “not all” but most. My mental health did better when I cut ties and I avoid them all together now for the most part.

When my brother would described the fact he’s not attracted to girly girls, and other traits he listed, that did weird me out, I’m the oldest and was mom #2 and really the only one who provided any discipline and was more of a tom boy. I also hate my bother.

Most sexual abuse is committed by men, and it’s in the family system, it’s rare/not as likely for women to sexually abuse or be attracted to family members, so it feels like a projection for men to even suggest women are attracted to men like their fathers.

Men and their dynamics with their mothers are hardly brought up; “mommy issues” seem closer to home, cause men can claim “daddy issues” all they want but a mot of women aren’t molesting boys and we have no ability to oppress men, but men use women much like they use their mother/ the whole family system exploits mothers for her labors. I’ve seen men flat out suggest they’re attached to partners that remind them of their mothers (lmao gross, women were aww’ing over that, but I think that’s gross.)

I think the only similarity would be my father definitely had mommy issues and so did men I’ve dated but don’t they all? I think men as a class resent their mothers, and are jealous of women, and deeply insecure.

(I’m procrastinating and high in your inbox sorry.)

there is a lot to unpack here but im going to focus on the part where i was essentially called an ugly rat woman

[pers-eids]

i miss my mommy.

i’m twenty-two years old, and i miss my mommy.

maybe it’s because i’m finally moving out, moving on, and this is the last chapter of my childhood that is left, and it’s ending. it’s ending, but not of my own volition; i would stay young forever, if i could, and watch over my brother and sister while they play, and make simplistic lunches for the three of us, because the responsibility always fell to me, and i could try to protect them better than i did. than i have.

i miss being four, before the first of my siblings was born, and knowing with absolute certainty that my mother was mine; that she loved me, that i was her little girl, that she was my mom and nobody else’s. i wasn’t especially jealous as a child—i never fought for her attention, not that i remember, because i was old enough to understand that a baby was the priority. i wasn’t jealous, or overly dramatic, but there came a time in my childhood when the responsibilities of a mother were pushed on to me, and suddenly i was to nurture, to comfort, to protect. she fed them, changed diapers, played out the legal requirements that come with parenthood; all the physical things i couldn’t do because i was too young. i’m convinced if i’d been older then that would’ve been part of my role as well: to provide. suddenly i was all of these things, and the mother that i’d previously had just…disappeared. it wasn’t like she’d never existed, because i saw her here and there in smaller increments, but the mother that i grew up knowing—that held my hand and dolled me up and dropped me off at preschool and raised me the way only a mother ever really could—she wasn’t mine anymore.

i learned about sex in elementary school, as was apparently common amongst my peers, and i knew the word ‘rape’ at nine or ten. what i should’ve known, if my mother hadn’t been so negligent, was that the game i’d been talked into playing several times with the neighbor girl my age was actually assault. my understanding of rape at so young an age was that it was always violent, and it was always done by men to women. i had absolutely no idea that what my little neighbor had done was considered rape. no idea whatsoever. my grandmother, the one on my dad’s side, had always made it clear that children should know the in’s and out’s of their bodies. my christian mother had always despised the idea, just as she despised my father’s mother, and sometimes i want to blame her for what happened to me. if she hadn’t been such a goddamned prude, if she had only explained what intimacy was, and that it was only ever done by consenting adults, i know i likely would have told someone before i completely lost my chance.

then, of course, there’s the events that have occurred between my mother and the other members of my family. there’s the abuse, the narcissism, the neglect, the gaslighting, the hate speech. there’s my two younger siblings who look to me as their mother, who’ve accidentally called me ‘mom’, who have no emotional connection to her. there’s the time she hurt them, the meals they’ve gone without, the danger she’s put them in. there’s my dad, who was a victim to her reign of terror, who loved her despite it, who looks at her now and sees nothing of the woman he loved but still feels guilt for talking badly about. there’s the years of trauma that i am still trying to unpack, to make sense of; screaming matches, weapons being pulled, hissed voices, threats, flinches, hate, hate, hate. there’s the way my mother looks at me like i’m delusional, like i will never know myself the way i claim to, like it’s absurd i ever could. there’s the life i stripped from her by being born, whether it was her choice or not, and the fact that i am two years older than she was when she had me.

i miss my mommy. i regret so much, for the both of us, because a part of me still loves her, will always love her, even through all the pain i have had to endure because of her choices. i no longer believe in god, but i pray for her to whoever will listen, because i know when she prays for me it is with a name i no longer use. i pray she finds herself again, and spends the rest of her life begging my forgiveness, because i want her. i want her to love me, to like me, to see me; it is a type of want that fills up the black, rotted mass of weakened muscle behind my broken ribs, and it is far too great a beast to ignore. i want my mommy. i miss her. it’s as simple a statement as anything, yet i cannot dare to confess it to her face, much less utter it from the tongue she made me.

e.p