#my recovery story

[thebasedsaint7]

My experience, strength, & hope

Growing up was fairly normal for me, I don’t have that tragic childhood that ignited my addiction at an early age or anything like that. I honestly think I was born this way, but the drugs didn’t come into play until my late teens. It started with food, and then boys, and so on and so forth.  

My family had its share of troubles, but we also had a ton of fun together. I grew up camping & going on little vacations during the summer. I had friends over all the time & had sleep overs at their houses. I was voted class clown for our senior personalities. I can say I have many memories that I cherish, and some that haunt me. It’s a good mix of both. But I think that pretty much applies to everyone.  

As a kid, I did have my fair share of stressors. I was bullied consistently from the time I started kindergarten until high school. I was also molested as a child by a neighbor kid who was older than my brother & I. The bullying started to slow down when I lost a bunch of weight by my junior year, I had become addicted to working out. I joined the track & cross country team even though I was slower than a turtle. I just liked the way running made me feel afterward.  

The first drug I ever came to enjoy was valium. There was a lot of fighting & things going on at home during high school, and there was one night things got physical. After that I started having a lot of trouble sleeping and having more anxiety than usual. So around 15 years old I was introduced to valium by a family member. At 16 I smoked weed for the first time but wasn’t getting high regularly until I was about 17. By 17 I was stealing the valium from said family member & getting drunk every weekend with a group of guy friends, and I would usually bring a girl friend along with me.  

I started blacking out and getting ridiculously drunk every time I drank, so they slowly stopped hanging out with me because I couldn’t handle my alcohol. The summer after senior year my parents separated for about 6 months, and I didn’t hang out with many people that summer. I just worked. Our school lost one of our classmates to a car accident my senior year, and this caused a good friend of mine to distance herself from me for awhile, as she couldn’t help me with my problems and deal with her grief at the same time.  

That fall she messaged me and wanted to start hanging out again. We’re going to call her A. We started hanging out all the time, at least 2-3 times a week. She reintroduced me to benzos, and I fell in love with xanax. I started seeking it from doctors, and managed to get a small script for .25’s from my family doctor. After he left his practice, I was referred to a psychiatrist. There I managed to get a prescription for .5mg klonopin, 2x daily. Needless to say they were abused, and I continued to look for more pills on the street. Other drugs started coming into the picture along with more alcohol. LSD, mdma, eventually painkillers, cocaine, and eventually meth later down the road.  

At one point, A and I were hanging out almost every day. We developed a codependent friendship.  We needed each other to boost each others’ egos, to trade and get drugs from, and to cosign each others’ bullshit. Whatever connection we had at one point was replaced by our love for drugs & partying.  

21-22 began the height of my addiction. I was drinking almost every night, and committing unspeakable acts while under the influence. Every one of my friends started to notice and slowly slip away, and they continued to get replaced by even worse friends. I was slipping into a dark place and to be honest, I enjoyed it at the time. It’s like I wanted to see how far I could go, how far I could push it until the inevitable happened. Death. I used to always say I would die by the time I was 27, my future looked bleak.  

Around the age of 22 I met somebody that we’ll refer to as C. We hit it off as friends and he quickly became my dealer. After a couple months, I felt like I kind of loved the guy, and he knew it. He started saying how he wanted to get clean, and went cold turkey off of xanax. He never actually totally quit. But, it inspired me to wanna get clean too. I believe he knew this as well, and that it was his goal. He knew how bad I was getting. So I started weaning myself off of klonopin, and stopped buying xanax on the street. I didn’t realize you were supposed to taper off slowly, that it can take over a year and some replacement medication to safely get off of benzos. I didn’t tell my doctor what I was doing because I wanted to still get the prescription so I could sell it. And then the horror began..  

After maybe two months of weaning myself off a 5(?) year bender, I went into withdrawal. I didn’t sleep for almost two weeks, and my body started shutting down. I had hallucinations, irritability, restlessness, depressive episodes, decreased appetite, you name it. The one day it was so bad & my mom didn’t know what to do, so she called for an ambulance. Not only was an ambulance sent, but a couple of police came too. One of them I knew from highschool. Something about seeing a familiar face and his calm demeanor talked some sense into me and I agreed to go to the hospital. I can forever thank him for coming that day, although it’s a bit embarassing. But I'm sure that wasn’t the only time he’s seen something like that.  I just never saw that scenario coming.  

That was my first detox. I relapsed time after time again. I wanted to get clean but I was always doing it for the wrong reasons. I wanted a different job, I wanted this guy to like me, basically any reason except for actually doing it for myself. It wasn’t until 2022 that I realized I was very lucky to have made it past 27, and I was going on 30. I knew if I carried my old habits into my 30s I was going to seriously hate myself for it. So in april of 2022 I made the decision to put the dope down once again.  

This only lasted maybe a little over a month. My jeep broke down, and I got insanely bored being at home with nothing to do. So I started smoking weed again. That was the only thing I did for awhile, and then the boredom continued. At the end of 2021 and beginning of 2022 I had been on a cocaine binge, and I was starting to miss it. So I ended up reconnecting with my old friend J. I asked her if she had any one night in august, and she said no but she had something a little stronger. All I could think was, oh boy. Here we go..

I tried meth one time when I was about 26, didn’t really care for it. But something about it the second time around really did something for me. It reminded me of adderall x20. Needless to say I couldn’t sleep that night, and I had stuff to do the next day. So I came back to her house the next morning to get some more. Eventually I found myself needing some kind of speed all the time. If I didn’t have meth, I had adderall. If I didn’t have adderall or meth, I had cocaine. Then I needed something to kind of level me out, so you’ll never guess what I got into next. Yep, you guessed it, xanax. It was a horrible combination and sent my mental health down the gutter. What happened next sent it even further down the drain.  

One night my friend B invited me over to drink with her and her new boyfriend and his brother. Everything was cool at first, and then when me & JJ (the brother) were alone outside for a minute, he decides to go in for a kiss. Worst kisser in the world first of all. And second of all I told him I was talking to somebody at the time and didn’t wanna go any further. He did not care. Especially after I made the mistake of selling him a xanax bar.  

I knew I was too drunk to leave, and if I stayed he was gonna wanna sleep with me. I felt backed into a corner. So he talked me into staying, and said we didn’t have to do anything. But, naturally, when we went back to his room, he ripped my clothes off and I kept telling him no and that I wanted to stop. At one point when he was on top of me I tried to push him off by his shoulders and he locked himself in place. I felt disgusting. I impatiently waited for it to be light enough outside & for me to be sober enough to drive home, and when I did I realized my clothes had been soaked by his beer. So I wore his clothes that didn’t even fit me home, and immediately hopped in the shower to wash off last nights filth, completely forgetting that rape kits existed. I wasn’t going to say anything about it at first but then I decided you know what, fuck it. But none of my friends cared or believed me. I tried to file a police report but not much came of it seeing as though I couldn’t go get a rape kit done.  

So JJ’s now mad at me for opening my mouth about that, and then J decides she’s gonna try to rip me off on this pair of boots that she got for free. They were worth 25$ and she was trying to charge me 40 at first and then 50. I was already upset and not in a good state of mind from the drugs so I got pissed at her. I put a bunch of random chemicals in the boots and threw them in her ex’s driveway where she was moving out of at the time while it was raining.  

Then come to find out B was talking shit about me at the party we had at K’s house the weekend before. She was telling everybody that I was doing meth, none of anyones business. I started losing it at this point. I lost my job, I was raped, there was drama, I got sick right before we were leaving for florida for the week of thanksgiving. I had been talking about the trip for weeks, so my friends knew when we were going to be gone.  

So the day after thanksgiving, we get a phone call from my sister saying our house had been ransacked. A ton of my parents’ property was missing and my jeep was gone from the garage. This was when I officially hit rock bottom. I knew something needed to change, and my mom suggested I look into rehab.

A few days later we got a call saying my jeep was found behind walmart, but the catalytic converter was missing. So considering we couldn’t afford to get it fixed and make the payments while I was in rehab, we had to let it get repoed. The cherry on top of it all.  

My parents didn’t have cameras or a security system at the time (you can bet they do now), so it was basically our word against theirs. However, there was an empty bottle of budweiser left in my jeep on the driver side door that wasn’t mine. They sent it to the lab for dna, and it came back with J’s dna on it. I could have told you she was involved. They’re still working on gathering enough evidence to indict her on the charge though. Since then she’s caught another burglary and breaking and entering charge, on top of multiple felonies and misdemeanors, and I honestly hope the judge throws the book at her.  A bunch of petty drama does not justify breaking into my childhood home and robbing my parents and I blind. But in hindsight, this was the beginning of my journey for me. The start of an awakening.  

I prayed for years for God to take my addiction from me, but I never really put in the effort. I was ready to make the change this time. So I found a rehab about an hour away from home, and stayed for 2 ½ months. After I was discharged I lived with my sponsor for a few days, and then got a call that there was a room available at a sober living facility nearby, still about an hour away from home. I was ecstatic. I have been getting all the help I need, from counseling and group therapy to figuring out a job and budget, and getting help with getting some things on my record expunged/reduced. I couldn’t be more thankful for the staff at the rehab I stayed at and where I am now, and for all the friends I've made along the way.  

I’ve changed and grown so much in such a short period of time, it’s amazing. All I had to do was take those steps, and then the blessings just kept falling in my lap. I am so grateful for everyday that I wake up and for each new opportunity that arises, so grateful my parents have been so supportive along with most of my extended family. There are those that have lost faith in me and honestly it does hurt, but I don’t respond to the hurt the way I used to. I didn’t realize how much the drugs had stunted my emotional maturity. Looking at the difference of who I was 4 months ago to now is enough to keep me going, because it’s only going to keep getting better.  

God is replacing all the things that the enemy stole from me. It brings me to tears.  

There was one morning, about a year or so ago when I was praying to get better & not knowing where I stood with God because of my addiction, when I was waking up, still half asleep, and I heard a soft voice coming from within me. I heard something in my conscience say, “you are mine, your name is Testimony. You are MINE, your name is Testimony. YOU ARE MINE, your name is TESTIMONY.” I woke up and stared blankly out at the sun beaming in through my window. Perplexed. Exactly 7 days later, my uncle who baptized me when I was 9 sent me a bracelet with a Bible verse on it from the book of Isaiah, saying “i have called you by name, you are mine.” and that’s when I knew that what I heard that morning wasn’t just me, I wasn’t crazy.  

It’s all coming to fruition, His promises and words spoken to me. It’s unbelievable. And all I had to do was start doing the next right thing. I had the key to my cure this entire time, I just had to unlock the door.  

[uncanny-tranny]

Honestly, there is a certain type of fetishizing of violence that occurs when you are the victim of abuse - wherein people talk directly to you about how much they fantasize about your abuser/s dying and being killed - "all abusers must be killed!" they say.

As a victim of prolonged abuse, I never felt cared for when people indulged that information to me. It often feels like my abuse is being exploited for others to enact their own violent fantasies and secret desires - my abuse means nothing to them in the same way that I didn't matter to my abusers. It's not support - it's just another cycle of violence.

I'm begging people to care more about victims and survivors than they do about retribution of abusers. Nowhere along the way should your focus on the abuser outweigh the people affected by their abuse. If you truly want to support abuse victims and survivors, start with us

[enden-agolor]

i have nothing else to offer but this little doodle page 😔 i don't have much time to draw as of recently so i hope this pleases the gay minecraft man audience

[punkstylerecovery]

Sometimes I forget, with all the big issues in my life, that the little issues make a big difference too. I get so distracted and overwhelmed because usually, I can't do anything about the big issues. But one of the reasons I'm so overwhelmed is usually because I also have to deal with all those little issues and I'm fighting to ignore that discomfort.

But when I focus more on making a difference with the little things, I feel like I'm much more in focus and living my life despite it all. Those little things pile up and even if it seems like such a small thing to change/address/ect, it's still me trying to change things in my life for the better and reminding myself there ARE things I can fix.

So for the rest of y'all, if you're feeling overwhelmed or stuck on an issue you can't seem to fix, try to eliminate or work on some of the smaller problems you deal with.

Clear your plate a little. Maybe you're just giving yourself a little more room to breathe, maybe you're doing that and giving yourself a new perspective on it all. Just like little joys matter, little annoyances do too; be aware of them.

[hoaxghost]

Is your demon oc Ariadne an assistant/apprentice to Stolforns?

Astute observation! Didn't think people woulda given thought to Ariadne since I don't talk bout her much.

She was part of a shared universe I had with an old friend that featured a lot of my demon ocs + Tiff. She was actually Stolforn's daughter created through a dark magic spell where a doll is imbued with life. He wasn't really the best dad in the world alas... but due to File Recovery becoming it's own separate thing, Ariadne's origin just didn't fit with anything anymore so she was kinda cut.

I can still see her being an assistant to Stolforns but she's no longer his canonical daughter.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXVII)

Disoriented dazed

Read part one // masterpost // continued from

*~*~*~*~*

Kit woke with a sharp cough, his lungs bouncing against his ribs. He turned over as the cough tickled the back of his throat, and he tried to sit up but the world swam dizzying around his head and he wanted to throw up instead as he hacked out whatever was stuck in his chest.

He managed to eventually, a glob of red hitting a pale hand as Kit groaned. Hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back against the bed and Kit blinked, groaning against the touch.

Who was touching him didn’t matter, he just wanted it to stop. “Kit, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re fine.”

Kit passed out again before he could wonder why that voice was, at once, so familiar and yet something was wrong with it. Something off. He couldn’t remember why or what as the darkness claimed him again.

The next time he woke up he was more alert. He didn’t wake up coughing, he woke easily and without fuss. He blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while, his mind moving too slowly to comprehend that he could be in danger. He had a bad headache, a dull aching throb, one that pulsed spikes of pain down his temple and into his cheeks with every beat of his heart.

His breath felt so loud in the silence of the room.

He couldn’t remember what was happening, where he was, but he was floating along, as if he were in a lazy river, just enjoying the flow of the water around him instead of focusing on why he was in the water in the first place.

A door opened in a far off place, indiscernible to him as he stared up at the arched ceiling of stone, tracing the wooden rafter beams that supported such a heavy roof with his eyes.

Then.

Black eyes.

Black concerned eyes, blinking fervidly down at him, and speaking but Kit couldn’t really make out the sounds at first.

Then, Kit?

And Kit grunted in pain. Don’t, he thought, but even that sent spikes of pain down his face and through his skull. Hurts.

“Kit?” Ambrose tried again. Kit moaned. What did Ambrose do to him this time? Everything hurt but was also, somehow, numb? Did he overuse his charm speak on Kit again? No… this feeling was similar but different somehow. “Thank god you’re conscious.”

Kit blinked tiredly up at the black eyes, studying Ambrose’s marble like skin. The shadows of his cheeks and eye sockets, his lips that were slightly crooked to the left, not centred properly. Something imperfect on his face. He never noticed these details about Ambrose before. He felt he should remember them, like they might be something he could use against Ambrose later, but the thought melted into the swirl of the lazy river in his mind and bobbed along out of reach of Kit’s grip.

Kit blinked and his eyes shuttered closed, watching black eyes grow wide with worry before the darkness took hold of him again.

The next time he woke, he lurched straight up, gasping as his entire body burned and he screamed and writhed, twisting away from the hand clamped down tightly on his chest.

In the distance he could hear Ambrose say: “Kit! Kit! It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re fine, you’re safe!”

Kit thrashed in the bed, trying to dislodge the source of the unnatural heat and then as suddenly as it began, the burning stopped and Kit gasped, falling back against the mattress, bleary eyes only seeing the grey stones and brown wood of the ceiling.

A hand pinched his cheeks and turned his head to face two slithering, silver eyes like gleaming molten metal, swirling like mercury. Kit recoiled away, trying to dislodge the hand from his face. He pulled his hands, trying to get them to get this guy’s hand off of him, but he heard two clicks of metal.

As if he had just been slammed down from space into his body, Kit went cold as he realised that he was cuffed to a bed, his hands above his head. Memories flashed back to him, snippets of the last thing he was conscious for and Kit remembered Ambrose and he remembered those silver eyes and his stomach churned.

“Ah, look at that. You do remember.”

Kit didn’t answer but he didn’t dare move his eyes from Supervillain’s face. His maskless face. Ambrose had come in with him, Kit couldn’t remember his name, but he remembered the helpless fear he had around him and—

“Where’s Sawyer and Tides?” Kit asked, his voice hollow even to his own ears. Why did he ask that? What if they were dead? What if Kit was next? Was this Ambrose’s plan all along? To kill him?

Black eyes appeared over Nathan, who was sitting in a chair next to Kit’s bed. “They’re safe, Kit.”

“Where are they?” Ambrose opened his mouth to reply, but Supervillain hummed, his silver eyes forming half moons, gleaming, and Ambrose shut his mouth again. Kit looked at Ambrose. “You— you, Ambrose, let us out, please. Let us go. Tides and Sawyer didn’t do anything!”

“I’m afraid Oskar doesn’t get to decide whether you’re freed or not, Kit.” Silver eyes said. Kit glared at him. “Was it you who smashed all my windows?”

“Yeah, and I’ll do the same to your face if you don’t—” Kit cut himself off screaming, a sudden burning in his chest until he heard Ambrose say Nathan, enough and the pain stopped and Kit fell back against the bed.

Silver eyed Nathan smirked down at Kit. “The youth of today, huh? Breaks a man’s windows and has the gall to threaten him in his own house.”

“You’re a piece of shit!” Kit hissed, scrambling back on the bed, rotating his arms so he could sit up and keep his arms awkwardly cuffed, his right arm stretched over waist but at least he was sitting up, facing the two bastards. At least he could kick at Nathan if he tried anything.

What a stupid name. What kind of Supervillain is called Nathan? Why isn’t he called something better? Grander? And why was Ambrose staring at him like he was trying to tell him something?

Shut up, Kit thought loud enough for Ambrose to hear. I’m mad at you too.

How interesting.

Kit’s wide eyes snapped to Nathan, his heart pounding against his chest. Then his gaze shot back to Ambrose, questioningly.

“What… how does he have your power?”

Nathan answered, leaning forward and grabbing Kit’s wrist. Kit was about to pull back when a burst of blinding white shot behind his eyes and he gasped.

Just as quickly as it began, when Nathan lifted his hand the strange wash of sensation left him and he was left a little drained.

“Bitch…” Kit muttered, suddenly breathless.

Nathan smirked, lifting his fingers in front of his face, humming as he rubbed the pads of his thumb and forefinger together almost thoughtfully. A spark of blue and Kit flinched back.

His eyes went to Ambrose’s black as he scrambled back away from Nathan, fear gripping him in the same way it would a gazelle at seeing a lion crouching in the grass.

“Kit, it’s okay—” Ambrose began but Kit cut him off, his voice wavering in pitch, in strength, in breath.

“No it’s fucking not! What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t— don’t fucking touch me!”

“Kit,” Ambrose said again, but Nathan was staring at him with his cold, dead eyes and Kit just wanted to flee. Kit’s desperate eyes turned back to Ambrose, his chest heaving but getting no oxygen into his ribs, into his lungs because Nathan was—

“Please,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes as he stared into black. “Please, Ambrose. Help me. Please. Let me go, please, I can’t—”

He couldn’t explain the raw, primal fear that was coursing through, racking his body with cold shivers as the cuffs jangled off the headboard violently.

“P-please,” Kit whimpered. Ambrose swallowed, his eyes darting between Kit and Nathan and he did the one thing he knew would stop Nathan. He stepped in front of him, blocking Nathan’s sight of Kit and before Nathan could berate him for it, he wrapped his hands around his neck and straddled Nate.

Nathan smirked up at Ambrose, silver irises swirling darker with interest as Ambrose leaned down and kissed him to stop him from saying something.

Kit stared, jaw dropped as he heard the wet sounds of kissing coming from his two tormentors. Jesus, fucking—

Don’t say a word, Ambrose warned, low and quiet. Let me handle this. Don’t even think anything back because he’ll hear you.

Kit swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away, closing his eyes to the sight and tried to calm his fucking nerves that spiked hard around Nathan’s exposure of his power. He must be able to absorb other people’s powers which would explain why he had Mentor’s… and Ambrose’s and now, Kit’s.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit! He really needed to get out of here, or else Nathan would fucking kill him and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him. What if he— what if he made Kit do things, like Ambrose did in the beginning. Kit glanced down at his arms and prayed.

Nathan pulled his head back, breaking the kiss. He smiled up at Ambrose. “You’re so transparent, Oskar,” he hummed fondly.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t—

“Fine. We’ll leave him be. For now.”

Ambrose hesitated. “Can I—”

“No,” Nathan interjected with a smile and leaned up to kiss Ambrose again. Short, possessive, and then he lightly pushed Ambrose off him. Kit swallowed, watching the exchange with wary eyes darting between the pair.

Nathan walked closer to him and Kit shrunk back, his heart thumping against his chest as Nathan leaned down and grabbed Kit’s chin, pinching it between his thumb and index finger and tilted his head up to look into the emotionless silver eyes.

“Kit,” he said, and Kit could feel the coldness of Ambrose’s power in his voice. He tried to wrench his head back, but Nathan’s grip was too strong. “If Oskar tries to speak to you, I want you to scream pineapple at the top for your voice and I don’t want you to stop until you see me. That includes if he tries to speak through your minds, do you understand?”

Kit felt the command take root in his body, wiring his nerves and muscles to Nathan’s order. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” Kit ground out through clenched teeth.

“Good,” Nathan said, patting his cheek before pulling away. He walked towards the door of the room. “Come on, Oskar. We have other matters to attend to.”

Ambrose took one last look at Kit, an apology and a stiffness winding him tightly, but he didn’t dare speak to Kit. Kit jerked forward when Ambrose turned away. “Wait!”

Ambrose stopped. Nathan let out a huff of a sigh at the door, glancing at Kit as if he were a fly that was buzzing around his food.

“Please, just… tell me where Sawyer and Tides are, please.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so broken. Ambrose looked at Nate, and Nate looked at Oskar. Silver eyes rolled to the ceiling and back again before he turned his body to Kit.

“I wiped their memories and sent them home packing. They’re safe, save some minor injuries, and well, Sawyer’s face,” Nathan said with a laugh. Kit glared, but it didn’t do anything to stifle Nathan’s cruelty. “But they don’t know you’re here, so don’t think you have a rescue party coming, Kit. They don’t even remember meeting Supervillain.”

He would have preferred if Nathan had just ripped his heart out and stomped on it rather than tell him that. He just wanted to know they were safe, and they were safe and Kit… Kit was probably going to die here and that was— he flinched when a hot tear splashed down on his cheeks.

Nathan smiled. “Come on, Oskar. Or I’ll have some fun with Kit while you watch.”

Ambrose’s little finger twitched, his body tight as he turned and followed Nathan out the door. His black eyes said I’m sorry, but Kit didn’t want an apology. Especially from someone who seemed to be just as much a prisoner here as Kit.

What was— how did Ambrose know Nathan? Not just know him but kiss him in the most un-Ambrose display of affection Kit has ever seen? And he was just going along with whatever Supervillain was saying?! Ambrose didn’t— there has to be something that Nathan was holding over him, something he cared about that Supervillain was threatening.

If Kit could talk to him one on one maybe he could find out what, and try and help him and they could get out of here together? Kit adjusted himself on the bed, not bothering to try and break free from the cuffs. He needed to sleep, he needed to keep his energy for later. Right now, right now he just needed to sleep. He settled himself and closed his eyes, getting into as comfortable position as possible. Sleep came like a warm blanket, comforting and warm.

He didn’t stir when the bed dipped around him. He barely realised there was a pressure on his chest until a large hand wad covering his mouth to silence his screams of panic. Kit’s eyes shot open, bleary from sleep to see wild green staring down at him. He shook, remembering those eyes from the basement with Supervillain, the one he knocked out to get Tides and Sawyer free.

Jude. Oh fuck. He forgot about him. Shit!

“Oh, so you remember me, you little shit?”

A black burn split Jude’s face like a tattoo, from his left temple down across his nose, splintering out down over his lip, his jaw and disappeared under the collar of his jumper.

Did… Did Kit do that?

Jude leaned in, sneering. “Supervillain got rid of your friends so you’re the only plaything I have left.”

Kit bucked against Jude, screaming against Jude’s hand, but his thumb was locked under Kit’s jaw, preventing him from getting any real volume into it. Jude laughed as Kit squirmed, another hand going to his throat. Kit bucked and yanked his hands down, trying to stop Jude before he knocked him unconscious.

“MMPH!” Kit cried, jerking his head left and right, trying to dislodge the psycho from him.

“Don’t worry, Kit. Supervillain said I can’t kill you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, hmm?”

Kit’s struggles lessened, his throat burning as he screamed and Jude squeezed, as if he was swallowing glass.

Ambrose! PLEASE! AMBROSE?!

Kit?

Kit’s mouth tried to force pineapple out of his lips but Jude’s grip was so tight it was shadowing his vision, his eyes growing heavy. Kit yanked at his cuffs one last time before the fight died in him and he went limp his world going dark.

And he sprung up gasping, screaming pineapple as loud as he could between coughs, and there was a flurry of movement and fists flying and then Nathan and Kit sat back, coughing, shuddering, gasping in air.

“Enough!” Nathan said, his voice low, but it still cut through Kit’s gasps and struggles, and even he quieted as much as he could. He grabbed Ambrose’s shoulders and dragged him off Jude, standing between them, silver eyes stern as he stared Ambrose down. “I said enough, Oskar.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him,” Ambrose spat, glaring up at Nathan. Nathan looked over his shoulder at Kit before looking back at Ambrose.

“You’re right. I said I wouldn’t hurt him. That was before I knew he did that to Jude’s face!”

“And what about what you did to Sawyer’s face!” Kit yelled. Nathan straightened, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tipped his head back and sighed theatrically.

“I forgot by agreeing to your terms I’d have to babysit an infant,” Nathan grumbled. Kit balked at the insult, about to retort when he paused, the rest of his words sinking in and he looked at Ambrose.

Ambrose’s expression was tight on his face. His hair uncharacteristically messy, he wasn’t even wearing business casual or any semblance of clothing that could be considered a suit. He was wearing an oversized crew neck and a pair of joggers and Kit blinked at him, barely recognising the man in front of him as Ambrose.

As Omen? He was even further from that, but… he looked like a man, and Kit knew he was more than that.

“What’re you talking about?” Kit demanded, yanking at the cuffs. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!”

Nathan turned his cold, metal eyes on Kit, but this time Kit didn’t wither. He refused. He didn’t understand what was going on right now, but he knew something was wrong! Very wrong.

“You could always let him go,” Ambrose said, his voice soft, gentle, tentative, his hand reaching for Nathan’s wrist. Nathan shook his head. “I’ll stay. You can wipe his memory—”

“No, I can’t, Osk. You ensured that.”

“What’re you talking about?” Ambrose asked. Kit could tell he was fighting to keep the exasperation from his voice as he spoke.

Nathan gestured at Jude. “We compelled them, the three of them that they couldn’t use their powers. The other two were docile, and powerless, you know, like good little obedient puppies.”

“And the moment I released him,” Jude said, glaring at Kit. “He could use his lightning again.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a sadistic fuc—” Kit’s head slammed back against the wall and he cried out from the pain that blossomed from the blow.

“Nate!” Ambrose gasped, black eyes on Kit’s, and he stepped forward, but Nathan put his hand out keeping Ambrose back behind. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“I said I wouldn’t kill him, Oskar. Maybe you should listen better, but right now, Jude has to get in line because I want to kill the fucking child.”

“Call me a child again, see—”

“KIT!” Ambrose boomed and Kit blinked, startled, staring at Ambrose with wide eyes like a puppy that was caught disobeying it’s master.

“Pineap—” Kit began but when he looked at Nathan the urge died in his throat. Nathan waved him away and said: “you don’t have to do that anymore.” And the command washed over Kit.

Kit looked at Ambrose with his wide, kicked puppy eyes. Questioning.

Nathan turned to Ambrose and said quietly: “you calm him down, or else I’ll let Jude do what he wants and make you watch.” Nathan looked at Kit. “This doesn’t mean you get away with hurting Jude. You’ll still be punished.”

“Oh bite me, arsehole!”

Ambrose jumped between Nathan and Jude, and Kit, spreading his arms wide. “I’ll talk to him! Okay? I’ll talk to him. Please.”

Nathan smiled, his hand going to Ambrose’s cheek. He leaned down and kissed Ambrose. Kit and Jude both looking away in disgust.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he said, kissing Ambrose again before he followed Jude out the door. Ambrose didn’t lower his arms until they heard footsteps on the stairs. Only then did his shoulders droop. He walked over and closed the door before sighing, resting his forehead against it.

Before Kit could demand answers, Ambrose’s shoulders shook, palms flat against the door. “I’m sorry, Kit,” he said, and Kit couldn’t do anything except gawk and stare, mouth open. Ambrose…

Ambrose was crying?

Oh shit. What did he say? Should he say something?

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, and the sound pulled at something in Kit’s gut.

“Hey, Ambrose… it’s—” the words died on his throat when Ambrose turned to face him and yep, he was crying. Tears streaming down his statue like cheeks, like crystal droplets that hung like icicles from his jaw.

“It’s not okay. None of this is okay. This is all my fault and you’re involved because of me.”

“No, I’m involved cause I’m a hero—”

“He let Sawyer and Tides go. He was telling the truth,” Ambrose said coming over to the bed and half falling into it. “He’s keeping you here to make sure I listen to him.”

Kit laughed nervously. Ambrose raised his black eyes, that looked a softer brown when he cried, and frowned. “Did you tell him you don’t give a shit about me? That you were torturing me to begin with? You could probably bond over that.”

Despite himself, Ambrose laughed. He sniffed, wiping his cheeks. “He’d probably bond too much over it, and it would become a couples activity.”

“Oh,” Kit said. “Maybe not then.”

“No,” and a silence fell over them. Kit stared at Ambrose as the man tried to compose himself. He looked so… normal. So regular. Kit wouldn’t remember him if Ambrose walked by him on the street like this.

Kit swallowed. “What did he do to you?”

Ambrose let out a humourless chuckle, running his hands through his midnight hair. He shrugged, eyes red rimmed and puffy. “What he’s always done.”

Kit didn’t know how to reply to that, but he didn’t have to because Ambrose continued, “we met in college. He was… he, well, I thought at the time that his ability was magic negation because he wasn’t affected by my friend’s fire, and I couldn’t command him to do anything or read his thoughts. It was so… he was so…” Ambrose said, gesturing, reaching for the word evading him.

“Magnetic.” He settled on eventually, his voice taking on a wistful quality to it. “I didn’t know what he was thinking. I couldn’t be repulsed or bored of his thoughts because I didn’t know… and it’s like, well, it sounds ridiculous but I felt normal around him.”

Kit scoffed, resting his head back against the wall. “You’re so humble, Rosey,” Kit said, sarcasm dripping from every word. Ambrose laughed, more tears jerking down his face.

“Yeah… I kind of got addicted to him, trying to figure out what he thought of me, and what he thought of everything full stop. My friend tried to tell me I was obsessed with him, but it didn’t feel like that. He— I—”

“Loved him?” Kit supplied. Ambrose’s head hung, lifeless.

“Yes.” He said. “I loved him.” He turned his body to face Kit, putting his sock-clad feet up on the bed. His expression earnest. “But I didn’t know anything about this, Kit. I didn’t know any of it, I swear to you—”

“I believe you.”

“This was as much of a shock to me as it—” Ambrose paused, tilting his head. “You believe me?”

“Yeah,” Kit said with a shrug. “You haven’t really lied to me before. So I believe you. It’s just—” Kit could see Ambrose brace himself for the but, “you look so unlike yourself. Like you’re not even Ambrose right now, but someone else. Is he forcing you to do this?” Kit asked, gesturing to Ambrose’s clothes and hair.

Ambrose swallowed his pride and looked away. “Yes,” he replied hollowly. “He wants me to be the same lost puppy who was following him around when we were together. He wants me to be… Oskar.”

A weighted silence fell over them after the confession. Ambrose had never told Kit his name, Kit learned from Mentor what his name was, but to hear him say it with such contempt, Kit finally knew why he abandoned it. It was because of Mentor, because of Nathan, he abandoned Oskar long ago, and Ambrose replaced him.

Kit didn’t know this other side of Ambrose. The side that Nathan knew, and he didn’t want to, he realised. Ambrose seemed a bit more human like this, flawed, lost, out of control. He didn’t want to know that part of Ambrose. A sudden, sharp anger jolted in him.

“You can’t just be Oskar, you’re not him anymore. If Nathan really loved you, he’d understand that.”

“Kit—”

“No, I am not letting you do that. Not for me, Heroes sacrifice themselves for others, not villains, Ambrose. You’re a villain!”

“I can’t compel him,” Ambrose said, dejected.

“Just let me out of these and I can electrocute the bastard and finish Jude off too.”

Ambrose shook his head. “You can’t.”

“I can—”

“No, he absorbs your ability, Kit. All of your ability. Which means he absorbed your resistances too.”

Kit stared. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh shit.”

Ambrose sighed. “Yeah.”

“But…” Kit began, leaning forward until the cuffs pulled him taut. “You were inventive with me. You still hurt me! With my own electricity, despite the resistances I had to it. We can do that with him too!”

“We still have to deal with Jude.”

Kit’s expression darkened. “Let me deal with Jude.”

“You don’t understand,” Ambrose said, shaking his head and getting to his feet. He began pacing up and down the small room. Kit yanked against his cuffs, longing to stretch his legs too. “They can hurt you, Kit. They can— they could—”

“What do you care?” Kit asked, bewildered. “You’ve hurt me!”

“I know, but—”

“No, no, no. No buts, ands or ifs, Rosey, you hurt me. You psychologically destroyed me for months!” Kit said, blinking at Ambrose owlishly. “You expect me to believe you actually care about me now?”

Ambrose stiffened, turning on his heels and walked over to Kit, grabbing him by the wrists. His black eyes met Kit’s wide blue. “Yes. I do. And I care what happens to you. And Jude and Nathan? Nate will only hold Jude back for as long as I play this role of his puppy ex-boyfriend. Do you understand? If you weren’t here I would be gone, but he has you. And as long as he has you, he has me.”

Kit swallowed, his eyes flicking between Ambrose’s, his mouth suddenly dry. “I know him, and I am not leaving here without you. Do you understand me?”

Kit nodded stiffly. Ambrose nodded and let go of Kit’s arms, standing straight again. “I will try to get you out of here, Kit, but we have to play it smart, okay?”

Kit nodded again. Ambrose nodded again. He fixed his hair, making it more fluffy and unruly. Kit never noticed it was wavy because he just slicked it back all the time. It softened his edges. Kit didn’t like it.

“Okay. Just— don’t provoke them, okay? I’ll work something out.”

“Okay.”

Ambrose took a deep breath. “Right. Good. Stay put.”

“Dick,” Kit said. It slipped out before he could help it and he froze, but Ambrose looked over his shoulder at Kit and laughed. A warm laugh, shaking his head.

*~*~*~*~*

Very unedited but c’est la vie!!

@beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter tter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[lovelydrusilla]

Feel Good (2020-2021). Created by Mae Martin.

[dat-lil-shark]

Just to inform you, guys. I’m intending that, for the majority of our Sparkling AU, it’s an AU, so it’s not about the characters when they are actually babies anymore. It’s basically about the whole entire TFP story except it’s set in a universe where there are no actual wars. The whole ‘war’ thing is just some sparklings going into groups and play-fighting with their imaginations. Every character that ‘died’ in this universe are just either moving to another school (ex: Cliffjumper & Elita One) or got tired of the game and didn’t wanna play anymore (Ex: Skyquake, Dreadwing, and Breakdown). And all the human characters are all little ragdolls that are brought to life by the sparkling’s imaginations.

cause the actual show crippled me and this is my denial mechanism.

(read the tags)

[dreaming-like-a-girl]

When my partner and I first got together, I hated how I looked.

Constant bullying had destroyed my self esteem, and paired with that I'd had a major injury while skateboarding that prevented me from doing any physical activity, so I was feeling unhealthy too.

Early on, he'd get this dreamy expression when he looked at me, and I'd shrug it off, laugh, change the subject any way I could. I thought he was making it up. Now, sometimes, if I'm very lucky, I can look in the mirror and see myself how he sees me.

He'd send me selfies, just him smiling into the camera, even though I knew he didn't like taking photos of himself, so I started to send them in return. At first, I'd avoid looking at them before I hit send. Then I started taking them more and more. Now, I look at those photos and see my smile, and think they're the best and happiest I ever look in any photos. I don't delete them anymore.

As an artist, I've always pushed myself to do better, falling into the habits of comparing myself with others. I've never given up, but I'd never been as proud of my work as I was when he started complimenting it. He wanted to keep every scribbled sticky note I'd give him, no matter how silly, treating them like treasure and stowing them away. He'd be in awe when I gifted him proper artworks, putting them straight on his wall. Now I post my art online and I'm pursuing a career in art with confidence.

When I first confided in him that, despite being a cis woman, I'd felt a huge sense of dysphoria related to my boobs since a very young age, he was immediately understanding. First, he helped me try sports bras, and I felt a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders. Recently, he's introduced me to trans tape, and this is the closest I've ever felt to being myself.

Too scared to talk to my GP about mental health, my partner helped me come up with a plan of what I wanted to say and finally convinced me to go, coming with me and helping when I got stuck. Hes been helping me through the long but rewarding trek that has been therapy ever since.

Now that I'm nearing the tail end of my physical recovery, I've been terrified to start skating again, slowly chipping away at the fear with my physiotherapist. But my partner has decided he wants me to teach him to skate, so now we're going to learn together.

I've got a long way to go and I'm still figuring myself out, but I'm so lucky and happy that I'm not on this journey alone.

[whumpsoda]

We Search For Stolen Personhood - You’re Scared

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, vomit mention, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, past abuse, conditioned whumpees

——————

He was trembling. He was not supposed to tremble, to quiver, to anything of the sort. Guard dogs - attack dogs, whatever he was anymore - don’t do that.

But he couldn’t help it.

Everything was a blur. He let fall a quivering breath, chest heaving in and out as he clenched and unclenched his clammy fingers over and over, harder and harder. Sensations pounded like rocks to his head, spinning him in circles with sickly dizziness, even if he couldn’t recall ever hitting his head on anything. He was sweating, body full to the brim with heat that spilled out in juice, even when the air was a stale chill.

He clung to his companion, the two of them shoved firm into a corner instead of the bunkbeds the woman had directed them to, refusing to allow him any give inside of his restricting embrace. Prince whined, animalistic and gratting, attempting to wriggle out from his never ending grip, but Mutt couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t.

What if they hurt him?

They would, they would, they would, everyone else is bad and only master is good.

Mutt couldn’t forgive himself if they did. No one could hurt Prince except for his master, as much as he hated Prince being hurt at all, that privilege was reserved to him and only him, and those were the rules. It was Mutt’s job to enforce those rules like the good, so obedient dog he was, to protect Prince at the expense of his own safety.

He… he was a good dog, wasn’t he?

Alas, the lines of his expression were scrunched with fear, his face stuck between the nape of Prince’s neck, and several times now he’d been forced to choke away an oncoming, lingering wave of emotions, something he wasn’t supposed to have.

He could nearly feel the burn of his collar, see the dreaded remote pressed between Handler Brooks’ fingers.

Show no weakness, ‘520, ain’t that right?

Fix it.

“Show no weakness,” He whispered to himself, shoving away feelings back into the drowning abyss that was his belly, evening his face to placid emptiness. “Show no weakness.”

“Squee- Squeezing-,” Prince gasped, hand pushing off his chest, a desperate and pitiful try for air. 

Mutt weakened his grip on instant, allowing Prince to collapse in a heave of a breath. He hadn’t even realized he was clutching tighter. “S- sorry. So sorry, ‘m so sorry.” Mutt apologized profusely, so very pathetically, so very soft and kind. How could he not behave so to Prince? 

“‘S okay.” His legs tightened around Mutt’s abdomen, as well did the hold around his neck. He was scared too, and there was nothing Mutt could do to stop it beside hold him, and Prince the same.

“H- hi.” 

He whipped up to the door, wide open and leaking a path of light throughout the room, and Prince’s hair tickled his throat as he turned to gaze as well. 

There a woman stood, shaded by the brightness flooding in from behind her, hands held up before her front in a gesture that said I’m innocent. “I won’t come any closer. If you don’t want me to.” She mumbled, gravel seeping into the edges of her words, a natural rasp that stuck to her voice even when quiet.

Mutt paused, swallowing, and after a moment dared to shake his head, a movement so weak it almost went unnoticed. He’d never shook his head before, only nodded in acceptance, as it was practically the same as saying no, and pets don’t say no. 

“I just… um,” she started, studying them with uneasy fascination, “You’re scared, aren’t… aren’t you?”

No response. He didn’t know what to say. Show no weakness, the little voice in his mind that sounded exactly like his handler - only warped - told him, over and over again, keeping him perfectly silent. 

But he was scared.

He had always been infected with an overbearing sore of sensitivity, a weakness, never truly fit for his designation, for the title he got to wear.

But he was good at pretending.

My champion.

“You don’t know what’s going on.” It wasn’t a question, but rather statement of knowing, as if the stranger could possibly understand how he felt. “You, um, we’re here to help you. No hurting.” 

He gradually met her gaze with eyes that glimmered in the shining light, sparking with watered down hope. “No… hurting?” 

“Nope. No hurting. I mean you’ll maybe hurt sometimes- we all do - but, not because of us, I mean, no, none of us will hurt you.” She took a soft step forward and he froze, fingers dipping marks into Prince’s skin until he whimpered, telling him without words to release. 

“Stay.” Mutt snarled, a low, bellowing growl, utilizing the last of his strength to order her around as if he had the jurisdiction, but she still followed. 

“Sorry.” She whispered, hushed, ceasing her movement. Her fingers scratched at the sleeve of her bulking sweater, the area around her arm that mirrored where his own tattoo sat. “Do you… where’s your master? What happened to them?” 

His master.

The blur that was a wound of the mind reopened, just a smidge, tearing through the walls of his brain. “Don’t, don’t know, want Master, want, need Master-” He was supposed to care for him, to serve him, to protect him, he was supposed to die for him-

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your master’s okay.” She trailed off, gnawing at her lip and itching harder at her arm.

“Rea- really?”

You’re a real idiot, mutt, and I can only guess that that’s why you signed up for this.

Did he really fucking believe her?

“Yeah, I think so. Probably.” She shrugged, biting her lip. She paused for a moment, thinking. “So… you didn’t run away, did you?”

“N- no, never run. Never run from Master, it’s a rule.” It didn’t even need to be a rule, because Mutt never had and never would even think of running, and Mutt followed the rules so very well. Where else would he go? He’d been with master ever since he finished at the facility, and he surely did not have any urge to return to there for any reason.

“Mm. I understand.” She said, and somehow, for some stupid reason, he believed it. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, no, sir.” Mutt didn’t know why he was answering, why he gave her any reply at all, but maybe being scared messed with you like that, like how it was to him. Scattering his thoughts and leaving him so terrifyingly helpless, in need of any possible smidge of guidance.

“We, um, well I don’t know everything, but… I guess they found you guys or something, and, um, we took you in so you didn’t have to go back to… to the facility.”

“The facility…” That couldn’t have been the only reason they wanted them. The two were high value products, that’s what his master had always said, and so the only conclusion Mutt could muster up was that these people wanted to sell them. That was only plausible.

“Yes. They would, um, re- refurbish you, and send you to a new master. Cheaper.”

Mutt detested the thought of his first time at the facility, memories coiling into a wounded ache, and the prospect of ever going back brought a foul strengthen on the fear pent up inside of him. He didn’t want any more of the white walls, and the shocking sticks, or the lumps of gray mush. He was lucky, oh so very lucky to have been bought instead of rotting there any longer.

He couldn’t go back.

She must have noticed him getting wrapped up in his thoughts, because she reached behind her, behind the wall, bringing two items into frame. “I brought you guys… I mean, you’re supposed to pick them out yourselves, but these are the only two we have right now ‘cause Isaac hasn’t gone shopping for more in, um, forever.”

“Dog… toy…?” That’s what they appeared to be, fuzzy, colorful, and stuffed like the ones his master would gift him on the most special of holidays. He wondered if they squeaked just like those did.

“Stuffed animal. They’re for you and your friend. We all get one.” She smiled, her face softening the slightest bit. “Oscar thinks they help. It… kind of does.”

Prince piped up, a shock to the ears, voice the crack of a knife slicing through butter and hitting the plate beneath it. “Thank… you.”

“You’re welcome.” She muttered, fingers pulling at the fraying strings of her top. “Anyway, you two should, um, get some sleep.”

Mutt shook his head yet again, saliva in his mouth churning like the taste of a sour candy. He’d never had candy in any form before, but somehow that’s what the stinging acid of bile slinking up to his mouth tasted like. “Can’t, can’t sleep.” He’d never talked this much before in his whole life, and each word scratched raw at his throat.

“W- why?”

“I must protect Prince.” He stated it matter of fact, just like it was. That was his duty, and Mutt was going to fulfill it.

“So, so that’s his name… okay. Well… um, you do that. I guess. G’night.” She turned to leave, but before fully out of sight she stopped. “Oh. My name’s Joey, by the way. ‘S short for Josephine.”

She left without another word.

He swallowed, again shoving down the ever so inching hiccup of confusing emotions and vomit.

All of that thinking for himself was making Mutt ill.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[warpedwings]

[whoishotteranimepolls]

"Who's Hotter?" Gmilf Battle

[magicalrocketships]

☔

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Oh, I'm sure I've talked about this before but L U C K I L Y I retain zero information, particularly when I'm tired, so this means I get to explain it again.

SO, the plot which I won't ever write because it gets pretty dark and it also requires me to make up an injury (I got the idea from the first series of Chicago Fire, where the dude whose name I've forgotten (no, really, I retain no information anymore) has a life-changing made-up ?neck? injury where he requires surgery and it will take one year+ to recover from the surgery so he self-medicates and then it's miraculously fixed by a dazzling new surgery in one episode after making it an entire plot for an entire season):

Canon divergence somewhere along the way, maybe the pandemic doesn't happen, maybe he never really got as publicly involved in streaming, whatever, but what's key is that Max doesn't have anything really going on outside of racing and it's this year

So Daniel's left RB/Mcl, and Max is focused focused focused on racing and maybe he gets his first world championship a year earlier but whatever happens, he doesn't build that strong sense of home outside of racing (no cats, no partner, no online streaming, just what's becoming an unhealthy focus on racing and winning at all costs)

Then there's an accident. It happens off-track, so it's not a racing incident, and it's not Max's fault. His car gets hit. And Max is injured. He breaks something in his neck (I am assured this injury does not exist in the manner employed by Chicago Fire. For the purpose of this imaginary not-to-be-written fic, it 100% exists).

Max is told he can't race, maybe forever, but likely for at least a year post surgery

(and at this point I'm just going to c&p from the chat fic doc I saved months and months ago, and it's going under a cut with a content warning here for suicidal thoughts, some mention of disordered eating and childhood abuse, look after yourself, pals)

surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story (~3k)

Anyway max realises that he has exactly one (1) thing in his life, racing, and it's just come crashing down and he's v emotionally unhealthy as we know and has nothing else going on so when he loses racing he believes there is literally no other reason to keep going plus he's in hospital

anyway daniel ignores all of max's emotionally unhealthy bans on hospital visitors and sneaks in to see him and he's like... "something is very wrong here"

he leaves and max thinks he's chased him away but then daniel comes back later that day and he's like, "you don't have to have the surgery in this hospital, you can have it done in any of these places *presents a list* so pick a place and we'll go there instead"

so yeah they just go somewhere else and daniel rents them a house and just hangs out with a secretly suicidal max who sees precisely no reason to wake up every morning if he's not racing

and daniel has precisely zero idea that max is still here/alive/whatever just because daniel is there every night and every morning and max doesn't want daniel to have to see him like that

ANYWAY max is very clearly not in a good place and his dad sends him messages telling him how he can improve his recovery and get better faster

it becomes more difficult for max to hide the fact that he's alive mostly by virtue of not being dead right now

and he's had the surgery or whatever and he's looking at a 12 month recovery so he's definitely out for the whole of the next season so daniel's like, "It doesn't matter how long recovery takes, take your time" which of course he has precisely zero idea of how to deal with since he's been racing so long and has nothing else in his life

Something happens idk he breaks a glass and Daniel finds him with cut hands and a piece of glass idk and Daniel's like, "a new crisis! I can help with that! this is clearly not something that max has been dealing with daily for weeks now, it's a new thing!"

so he's like, IT'S THERAPY TIME BABY, no more clutching a handful of broken glass and bleeding everywhere, superdaniel is here to help

yada yada finds max a therapist and max HATES IT, HAAAAATES IT, he's uncomfortable and the therapist makes him feel worse and he still wants to like... not be here if he can't race today, he can't wait a whole year

and daniel asks him how it's going and Max lies because why wouldn't he and he's been doing miserable things his entire life that he didn't want to do so what's another thing on top of everything else

meanwhile Daniel's like... hmmmm this is scary Max looks worse

and he sits in on a therapy session and half way through he's like, "nope, we're ending this, sorry, bye, you can have the money for the whole hour but we're never speaking to you again"

points out to Max that that therapist was awful and why didn't Max just tell him how awful it was and how it made him feel

Max, who's never had a choice over anything in his entire life: "..."

anyway he gets max to try another couple of therapists and in the end there's one who is NOT monstrously awful and does not make Max feel like he wants to scratch his own skin off

so Max gets THERAPY and it becomes clear that max's childhood was weaponised beyond belief and he doesn't even know what foods he likes and doesn't like

because he never got a choice and he was always on some kind of food plan that his dad could withhold or not according to how max was doing in every other area of his life

well of course, he gets a whole year of therapy and it turns out his dad was an abusive asshole and he is BLOCKED from Max's phone

and Max has to do things like "make sure his life has more than just racing in it"

so he reads a book

the first one he's ever read

he tries food and tries to figure out if he likes it or if it's just a source of energy he has to eat anyway

he gets a PLANT

it DIES

anyway whatever he gets therapy and he lives in a house with daniel and is allowed to feel some things because he never really felt anything before

and daniel goes off and does some promo stuff idk and films some shit from the house and max is maybe in the background or something and no one's heard from him in ages and in fandom it's all like MAX IS IN DANIEL'S HOUSE etc

and the drive to survive people get in touch and are like, can we interview you for the series even if you're not on the grid, do some stuff about your recovery etc etc

and max is like... i guess

he's not, like, actively suicidal any more because his life has actual pillars of stuff that isn't just racing

his life isn't just like dependent on one jenga tower of racing with the pieces falling down

like, he can't wait to get back to racing but he's like, six months in to therapy or whatever and he's been living with daniel and it's... nice to just... watch movies with him and eat stuff and play computer games (daniel banned racing games so max has had to... compromise)

and maybe there are some... warm feelings

some best friend shit when he's never had real time for a best friend

some "i could probably spend more time with daniel in a forever kind of a way and not get tired of it" you know

BUT ALSO, daniel blowing up his life for max, he saw max in that hospital room and didn't once question what it would mean to him to step back and just... fuck shit up so that max would be okay

anyway drive to survive team show up and they do a bit of interviewing and it is VERY CLEAR that this isn't a natural fit for an episode because Max has, for once, got some shit to say

so they come back with an idea for a spin off documentary that's just Max and this injury and getting back to driving

because Daniel has kind of been fielding red bull this whole time, saying "he's not racing this year, leave him alone, give him some space", and he's got to go out and talk to them or do some promo stuff with them, whatever, he's going away

Max says the timing is good because he can do the main body of the interviewing about what's come before etc, then Daniel can come back and do his bits

and then the docu team are like, "where do you think you'd be right now if you hadn't crashed" and Max looks at the camera and says, "dead, I think" and the team know they're on to a winner because Max has realised that actually, driving like you don't care if you're alive if you don't win isn't actually okay

anyway Max does the documentary interviews and Daniel comes back and Max tells him he can talk about whatever he wants, it's fine but when the team ask him about helping Max when he realised he wasn't coping, Daniel won't give any details and says it's Max's story to tell and he just wanted to make sure his best friend was okay

not realising that he looks very much in love during this idk

ANYWAY SOME TIME PASSES and they do a bit more documentary stuff and Max is preparing to race again and Daniel is doing some stuff with red bull and he flies out somewhere to do an interview and photoshoot for some magazine or other.

The first clips from the documentary are released and they're on youtube and clipped up for instagram and Max posts them but the first picture is just like, 'this contains discussion of suicidal thoughts' etc

Daniel is preparing for this photoshoot and interview

anyway the first clip is about Max in hospital and they go straight in for the kill, Max saying, "I didn't want to live if I couldn't race.

"I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to speak to anyone, I shouted at the nurses, I just wanted to get somewhere so I could figure out how not to wake up again. And then Daniel walked in.

"He didn't know how bad it was, he didn't know anything specific, but he knew something was wrong and he got me out of there and he brought me here and got my surgery moved. And he didn't know he saved my life that day. He won't know until he sees this. But he saved my life that day."

END OF CLIP ONE, start of clip two

"You were suicidal," the interviewer says

"Yes," Max says. "The only thing that stopped me was that I didn't want Daniel to find me. He'd moved me to a different hospital and he'd rented this place for us so it was close to the doctors, and every day I woke up and he never knew that he kept me alive just by being here."

"But he found out in the end."

"Not how bad it was. Just that it was bad. And he got me help. And when that help didn't work, he got me more help. He's the best friend I've ever had, and I still haven't been able to tell him how bad it got."

end of clip two, start of clip three

except this clip is DANIEL

"I snuck in to see him in hospital. he wasn't doing great. He was kind of lost, and I didn't really know what I could do, but, like, I figured he needed some space so I got him some. Different hospital, different views, nothing to remind him about racing."

"But he was struggling?"

"Yeah," Daniel says. "He struggled. It was hard to see him when he couldn't race. He's my best friend. It was hard when he wasn't doing so well. But he's doing great now."

smile smile etc Daniel being happy

then a final max clip i think

"Do I still have that drive to win? God, yes. I'm going to win. That hasn't changed. I just want to live as well. I want to wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that, and win."

then a final slide with the documentary logo on and some suicide prevention helplines, idk

ANYWAY imagine Daniel, if you will, at a photography studio about to have pictures taken, crying his eyes out in the toilets because he's just found out Max wanted to die

so Daniel, who is always very professional, entirely bails on both the photo shoot and the interview so he can go home because he needs to see max

and Max lent him his plane because that's a normal thing excessively rich world champions have so it's not a fucking nightmare getting back from... wherever the interview is, somewhere not that far away in europe

and Daniel chooses to respond to Max's documentary clips on instagram

[ASIDE, my beloved friend as I was telling her this over Telegram, in response to that above: WHY????

Me: because this is MY 4am hurt comfort fic baby]

so anyway he makes a text post that just says Max is the bravest and best person he knows, he's fought so hard to be here, and that there hasn't been a day in Daniel's whole entire life that would have been better if Max wasn't here on this planet, and he's so glad he stayed

and then another one which is like, if anyone else feels like they don't want to go on, please stay, people love you, here's some helpline numbers etc

and Max just replies to him with a blue heart

important to understand that this is my four am comfort fic so it is ENTIRELY appropriate that Daniel walks through the door and both hugs him and starts to cry

and Max hugs him back but does not cry because Max has broken through a lot of shit in therapy but he is not a crier

but he IS accidentally in love with Daniel

and Max makes some Choices in his life, as Daniel does, but this choice involves touching Daniel's cheek and glancing at his mouth and then up at Daniel and Daniel kind of nodding and then there is a KISS

which is badly timed really considering that today has been very emotional and Daniel is still crying and has been travelling etc and they've never actually addressed any of this

so Daniel needs a moment and he goes into the bathroom to stare manfully into the mirror and wash his hands and face and when he comes out Max doesn't let him say anything, just launches into a multi point in-person powerpoint about how they should be together

[my friend: maxplaining his way into a relationshippp]

which Daniel, it turns out, entirely agrees with, but he's really kind of emotionally burnt out right now and would really just like a hug and a sit down, so he tells Max yes, of course, but could they just talk about it later and hug right now

How good is Max at listening to instuctions to stop talking?

not marvellous it turns out but daniel kind of likes it when max gets enthusiastic about stuff

even if the stuff in this case is a multipoint argument in favour of them being quite gay together

OH OH OH now we skip forward a bit

to when Max is racing again

first or second race out there for red bull

and daniel is kind of tied to red bull again

anyway Max WINS

hurray etc he's a conquering hero with a recovered broken neck

so once he's out of the car idk he's done the bit with the team and he spies daniel and goes over to hug him, which the cameras in general love, and then he goes off to do some kind of next step celebratory thing, cool-down room, whatever

only partway there he's like... um

has a feeling, one or two, you know the kind of thing

max hasn't historically been very good at feelings

or healthy choices

but anyway, he decides to act on this one, which is to go back to where Daniel is, and kiss him

which is as much of a surprise to daniel as it is to the whole of the media who are still around to film him

and then Max just turns back around and heads for the podium, so there's a very nice accidental shot of Daniel, afterwards, just smiling and ducking his head and touching his thumb to his lip

which turns into a very popular gif

for reasons

Anyway!! there is a LOT of discussion about Max losing his edge now his focus is not only racing

the documentary talks a lot about Max's childhood abuse and limited food intake etc etc but doesn't mention his dad by name

Daniel races again somehow but probably not in the fic

daniel ends up losing some bet or other and has to do a computer game live stream from his living room of some cosy game idk and the whole thing is interupted by max just living his life in the background

max getting up and sleepily saying morning, max going for a run and kissing him hello, max going in and out of the sim, idk, the two of them making weird noises at each other because they still do that

OH I forgot they buy a house together like immediately after getting together

somewhere green again and it's in both their names because they've lived together for a year already and whatever

and still don't tell anyone they're together even though red bull has them residing at the same address

and ZERO people realise until after the kiss on screen

and obviously the docu clips suggest they've been staying together

and Max gets to say to Christian that they literally own a house together when he expresses some degree of surprise at kissing in public

not their fault no one noticed

Forgot to say that max and Daniel get filmed driving about and max stalls his car and doesn’t know if he likes olives and maybe they forget they’re being filmed

And also that when the documentary finally airs all its eps Netflix on Twitter are like “lol bet you can’t figure out which bits we filmed after they got together and which were before because we certainly can’t, lol”

And Daniel’s in the comments, like “do I get a prize if I get it right”

He gets 9/10 clips right but no one but max knows

Anyway when they buy their house max has zero shits to give about the decor so daniel just gets a decorator in and the only thing max wants is a fancy catio for when they’re not there and his new cats want to go outside

Daniel arranges this because he’s a sucker for max.

anyway that's general plot of surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story, the end.

[enden-agolor]

Top two are old but I realize I never posted them here uh oh.

Anyways in case you don’t already know, I’m so obsessed with Jesse finding the same kind of friendship he had with Reuben but with Dewey. Jesse being very apprehensive about Dewey at first, even at times making snide remarks towards the ocelot before he starts to actually understand him. Dewey is the one that pushes the bounds first, being genuinely curious about Jesse (*cough* seeing that Lukas talks about him so much *cough*) and kind of forcing his presence on Jesse knowing Jesse is cautious of him. Typical kitty behavior. Anyways I think Jesse begins to understand him and starts enjoying Dewey’s company, even making mental comparisons to how much their interactions remind him of his time with Reuben. Jesse even starts coming up with nicknames for him like Dewbert and Dewdrop. Gives him table scraps when Lukas isn’t looking 🫣. Long story short- I love them.

[hoaxghost]

Happy to have posted that cause I can go into more depth about certain other demon-lore tidbits and the like! To expand upon the familial aspect:

Split demons often have complex relations when thinking about their Roots, this is strongest in 1st degree Splits while 3rd or 4th have a much more detached point of view. When Splits refer to their counterparts, they'll often use the term brother or sister but it's usually not intended in any gendered aspect.

[ashleyfableblack]

A Mother's Day Eternal Courtship Jam. Love is complicated. Love takes work. For a Big Mama Bughorse with a family spanning several species it can take alot. A hard tale about love and family some may find all too familiar. TW in hashtags

"THERE'S my SPECIAL Boy..." Chrysalis beamed a grin of gleaming, razor-keen fangs at Pharynx as the guards shut the balcony bay doors behind them. She levitated a bunch of grapes from a nearby table of assorted dishes and goblets, offering them. "MY Pharynx. Come. Sit with me. Something to eat?" Pharynx politely refused with a reserved smile. "No, thank you, My Queen." Purple grapes. Very plump, ripe ones at that. He wasn't surprised that she knew his favorite fruit. Though he'd gotten to spend very little time with her since The Exodus of their people, he had little doubt that her agents were still hidden among his Lovebug kind. She likely knew more of their affairs than he did. Making his way to the heap of cushions she was lounging upon he climbed the pedestal and sat. "Happy Mother's Day." He gave a sheepish grin. After last years celebration he hadn't been sure what to expect from her. 'Mother's Day' wasn't a changeling concept. Every Day was Mothers Day as far as The Hive was concerned. His people's decision to adopt the pony holiday as a lovebug tradition was received awkwardly at best. But Chrysalis was a Queen and the Mother of her entire race and she was certainly making a go at it for her sons sake. She was looking healthy. No doubt she was eating very well. Her pony wife had made it very clear that she alone would give her wife all the love she needed. She had always been large, so tall, beautiful and majestic in an indefinable way, by changeling standards. But she seemed larger still, these days. Her chitin gleamed, dark and smoky. The pitting of her limbs seemed reduced. Her mane of spidersilk seemed more like the hair of a pony. Her shape even seemed different. Her plot, in particular seemed rather... round. He wondered if she was unconsciously adapting her form to suit her wife or maybe to fit more closely with their pony subjects? It was a common enough trait among changelings in deep-cover. Her eyes shifted between her two sets of irises as she looked him over, examining him both visually and taking note of his emotional state. "I trust your trip was well. Hmmn." She could see he was particularly troubled but spoke nothing of it. Decorum was to be observed. She was a Queen. "Where is your idiot brother?" Pharynx chuckled. "Heh. He got pulled into a discussion on some artsy-craftsy garbage about 'decorative baking' with one of Queen Twilights advisors. The bubble-headed pink one." "Ah." Chrysalis nodded. "That would be Pinkie-pie." "That's the one. Ugh." Pharynx shifted uneasily on the pile of assorted cushions and royal-blue throw rugs. Some creatures would say that all ponies looked alike. He knew this to be untrue. Though he was a lovebug he still had a changelings eye for fine detail. Ponies of any tribe were very distinct, visually. Their personalities on the other hoof, on that he could definitely see their point. They were all so cloying, so irritating. They all just blended into one big blur of annoying, bouncy, frivolous children to him. Tasty as food but still, annoying. "I told him to just go on with her and he could meet us later. Seemed just as well."

"Indeed." She pursed her lips, studying him. The Queen took a sip from an ornate silver goblet. "She has a way with most creatures, one I would imagine fitting your brother's demeanor all too well." Pharynx regarded the view. He could see why his Queen-Mother had chosen to make this balcony into a receiving area. From here, New Canterlot castle had an impressive view of the surrounding land. From the peaks of far-off Yak-Yakistan to the tides coming in off the Celestial Sea. This perch was as tactical as it was deceptively pleasant. She could plot out an entire campaign from here as easily as charm unassuming diplomats. He sighed. He missed those days as a changeling agent. Chrysalis broke his drift into the past with her sharp, multi-tonal Hive voice. "But you desired a private audience." It wasn't a question. She knew. "Yes." He cleared his throat, straightening himself. "Yes, My Queen." Her emerald snake eyes stared expectantly. Most of his life those eyes had been a place of comfort to him. She was his Queen-Mother, the source of all life for his people. However, in this moment, he would almost be anywhere else than in their gaze. Still, he had planned. He had prepared. This was the time and this was his moment. He was going through with this. "I wished to speak with you on a personal matter, My Queen." Chrysalis raised an eyebrow. "Pharynx, it's not like you to be so nervous. Speak." "I needed to-" he paused. His deep, gravelly voice cracking, he cleared his throat. He couldn't believe it but he was actually trying to recall Thorax's 5-5-5 rule for dealing with his anxiety. Or was it 3-3-3? UGH. He would have to punch him when he saw him next time- more than he usually did. "I needed to apologize... to you, My Queen."

Chrysalis furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?" She adjusted her irises to study the shimmering pattern of emotions emanating from her lovebug son. Guilt, radiated from him like smoke from a oil-fire, guilt, shame and a deep, black loathing. She craned her neck and drew slightly closer. "You've nothing to apologize for." Pharynx visibly shrank. The words and the feeling behind them hit him like fists. "Respectfully, My Queen-" his lavender eyes glanced to her "I feel I do." Pharynx sighed hard. It had been years in the build-up. He'd finally opened the door. Nothing to do for it now but walk through. "Mother... I failed My Hive. I failed our people. I failed myself. Most of all, I failed you." His lips pursed as her struggled to contain the breaking dam inside his chest. Chrysalis straightened herself. She narrowed her eyes, her intense gaze could cut through stone. Her ears flitted as she listened intently. "Continue." Pharynx stared into the floor. His eyes looked to the same past his voice spoke from, a time some decades ago now. He could almost see the timeline in front of them, the chain of events which led him to this moment. "Look after her." He paused. The word, the identifier, it stung his tongue to say it. "That's what you said to me. The first thing you ever said to me. Look after her. You ordered me to protect my idiot younger sister, my broken, faulty twin." Pharynx sighed. "She was born wrong. You knew it. I knew it. She wasn't like the rest of us. From the moment I crawled out from our egg and looked back at her, still wobbling around, she was silent in the hive-mind. Not a ghost, not a whisper, just nothing. But rather than just leave her to our sisters to be eliminated, you ordered me to protect her. You seemed to value her, maybe me as well, if by proxy." He looked into his hooves as if searching for the secrets of his past in them. "You didn't give us designations like our sisters. We were different. We got names. I would be Pharynx. She was Thorax." He bit his lip. The dam was stressed but holding. "I wanted you to be proud of me. My Queen. My Mother. So, I protected her, the idiot. The coward. The weakling. Our sisters knew she was born wrong and they hated her, wanted her gone, if not dead. She was not of The Hive. She smelled wrong, tasted wrong. None of us could hear her in the Hive Mind." Pharynx gritted his tiny nub fangs "But I protected her from them. I kept her safe. When they bullied her, I fought her fights. When she failed missions, I cleaned up her mess. When she betrayed us, ran away like the traitor she..." He paused, the words caught in his throat. The dam was cracking. "The traitor he was. I still obeyed. I kept the patrols from finding him. I guided any incidental seekers from his pathetically obvious hiding spots. I even masked the scent of his fear in the air- THAT took ingenuity. But All for you, My Queen. All for The Hive. I protected him even up until..'" Pharynx shuddered. He hesitated to even say the words. The name his changeling people had given to the day of their near-genocide. The day their home was destroyed and the lovebugs were born. "The Exodus. I could have stopped him. I could have stopped all of them. The cowards." He gritted his teeth, hooves clenched against his thighs like fists. "The ingrateful, treasonous scum. The filthy pony intruders, that stupid draconequis-thing, my traitorous brother. I could have stopped them but I didn't." Pharynx looked to his Mother, His Queen. He owed her the respect of looking her in the eyes when he said this. When he admitted to the price of his shame. "I had a choice to make. In that moment I had to choose. To be the perfect daughter for you like I always wanted to be..." The weight of his guilt was crushing. The dam was breaking. Held back for the last thirty years The edges of his eyes moistened. "Or be the... the worthless... Son... I always knew I had needed to be."

His shoulders shook with the pressure of containing the tears. Gritting his teeth he continued. "I hated him. He wasn't a Changeling. He wasn't one of us. I hated him for being weak. I hated him for being different. I hated his stupid smiling face. I hated his stupid feelings, his selfishness, his self-important, self-righteous- OH, he was SO much better than the rest of us, he was better than The whole HIVE. He was so special, like those stupid pathetic little ponies. But I-" Pharynx choked. "He... He was braver than me. He was Thorax. He was... your son. And I made my choice." His lips quivered. The hot stinging droplets formed. His vision blurred and he looked away, sending the tears to patter against the cushions. "I could've stopped him, Mother. I could've saved you from all that. I could've saved all our sisters. I should've stopped him. I wanted to. I... I wanted to be strong for you. I swear I did. I swear I- but I couldn't- had to- I had to be- Ff- Ff- Ph-" Years of self-loathing buried the rest in a mass of sobs as he pressed his face into his hooves. The dam was broken now. Pharynx was broken. His chitinous body convulsed as he wailed. Like a tiny foal, he shrieked, loosing out the tears of self-hatred he'd held deep inside for decades. The venom within him had rotted away, cold and black, like tar on his heart for years. Pouring out from his eyes now, it burned, searing like fire. His lips curled back, baring his tiny lovebug faux-fangs. They were not the fierce, dagger-like sabres of a changeling. He chattered them together, trying to finish his thoughts but all that came out was a gibbering, wailing mess. To his shock Chrysalis pulled him to her barrel. Without thinking, he threw his hooves around her, hissing his tears into his Mother's chitin in thick, painful sobs. Several minutes passed as years of hate poured forth, drenching her chest. Not as The Changeling Queen-Mother but as his Mother, she held him firm and steady. Several minutes passed as years melted away between them. Finally, enough of the pain drained off, Pharynx found his words again. "Mom? Do you... hate me?" Chrysalis stared back at him with her giant serpents eyes. In all these years, he had never called her that. No drone had. 'My Queen'. 'Majesty'. 'Excellency'. 'Queen-mother.' 'Perfect One'. 'Exalted One' 'Our Beloved Perfection.' Never 'Mom'. She considered the question in silence. Her horn glowed. In a small eruption of emerald flames a trinket appeared in Pharynx lap. Her multi-tonal voice cut through the tense silence between them. "Do you know what this is?" He looked to the trinket. A fine golden chain set around a series of opaque transparent flakes of shimmering, almost crystalline material, chitin from a changeling. As many times as he'd seen his alicorn mother-in-law wear it, of course he knew what it was. "This is the wedding token you gave to Queen Twilight." "And its significance?" He swiped away a bubble of snot with the back of his forelimb. "It's an ancient pony practice- unicorn, specifically, to give an expensive token of affection to a mate." She starred expectantly.

He expanded- "Adapted during the fusion of their 3 tribal cultures to include the Terrestrials... Err... colloquially, 'Earth Pony' tradition of an exchange of a family heirloom ... one holding a more personal value than one dependent on the unicorn system of material worth." Chrysalis nodded. A smile began to warm her lips. "And what is this?" "It's your token to your mate- Queen Twilight." The Queen gave a small huff of impatience, touching the article with her pitted hoof to accent each word. "What. Is. This?" Pharynx wasn't certain what his mother was asking him. He lifted the article carefully in his hoofs and examined it. He'd never actually seen it this close before. He could see now the small plates of chitin were quite old. He had always thought they were just tiny clippings his Mother had made from her wings, emulating the pegasus practice of giving their mate one of their primary feathers. But that couldn't be. They were far too old for that. Their translucent quality was caused not by their age, but by their structure. No only that, they were slightly curved and shaped irregularly, each slightly smaller than the last. They were fitted plates. "These are..." he straightened as the realization dawned on him, suddenly taking even greater care to be very gentle with the artifact in his grasp. "These are the plates of a grub's first molting." She nodded again, her smile growing to expose her fangs. "They're yours."

Chrysalis draped a hoof around his shell. Pharynx fought to find the words. "Mine? But... How? Mine? They're... How did y-" "Your idiot brother saved the discards of your first molting. Don't ask me how he secreted them away or where he hid them. None of your sisters ever knew." She looked from the tiny bracelet to the astonished Pharynx. He stared at the jewelry as if it were speaking to him in a foreign tongue. "I've never found the knowledge in the Hive Mind, anyways. " She gave a wistful sigh. "I remember. You had both just completed your nymph molt a few days before. He came to me, all puffed up and smiles, and presented me with a set of baubles he'd made. A necklace and a bracelet. He'd managed to cobble together the materials from one of our caches of acquired valuables. I'm still not sure how he learned the skills required to craft them, half-dumb as he was. Still, he did. A necklace from his own remnants..." She lifted the trinket in her green flames. "...and this, from yours." In an implosion of magic the matrimonial token vanished, teleported back to Twilight's dresser. Pharynx stared in silence. She'd held onto such a thing, all these years, in secret. With a gentle touch of his angular cheek, Chrysalis regarded him. "I gave this to Twilight, my immortal love, as an act of trust, to honor the ancient custom of her people. It was only a thing but it was my most precious of things. And if I could trust her with this thing I could trust her with my hearts." She stroked his cheek, drawing close. "I am your Queen. I designate you all with purpose." Her snakes eyes held him like a helpless little grub. "When you hatched, I knew it. You were never born wrong. But you were born different. You weren't like any of our kind, ever, more like..." She paused, catching herself as if to keep a secret. "Yes, I named you. I knew what you were, as I have all my children from the dawn of our kind. Your foolish, flighty brother, he was Thorax, 'my heart'. You..." She smiled in a warmth he had never seen from her before. "...you were stronger, fiercer stuff. Pharynx, 'my voice'." As she smiled down at him the tears came again. He didn't fight them this time. "I've never hated you. In all The Hive, I've thousands of drones. Infiltrators, Warriors..." She wiped at his cheek with her pitted hoof. "But I've only one Pharynx. One you. You are my son."

He returned her smile, wiping at his cheeks.

They sat in silence. Maybe for the first time in their lives, they were truly Mother and Son, as Pharynx would see it. "Any other questions?" She gave a playfully irreverent smirk. still draping a hoof over his shell. "Heh... Maybe... Another hug? My Q-" She cut him off, pulling him into her hooves and squeezing her son tightly. He embraced her in return. He could almost taste the love in the air around them. It was an unusual feeling, this warmth. Was this 'acceptance'? It was alien but certainly not unwelcome. If this was what Thorax was always going on about Pharynx could get used to this 'family' business. The balcony-bay doors creaked open. A guard broke the tender silence of their moment with her announcement. "My Queen. Prince Thorax awaits Her Grace." Chrysalis looked to the guard, then to Pharynx. He smirked, making to hop up. "I'm gonna go pound him." The Queen rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Don't pick on your brother." Pharynx sniffled and froze. He had an almost pouty quality to his silent obedience. She sighed in resolution. "Fine. You're brothers..." Pharynx leapt up with a burst of energy and sprinted for the door. From the halls Chrysalis could hear the sounds of things being broken and shouting of various slurs of endearment. She chuckled and took a large mouthful of the grapes, chomping them down hungrily with a smug, self-satisfied smile. "Best. Mom. EVER."