#tw child murder mentions

[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha���… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[glitter-stained]

The first rule of writing horror is looking at the horrors

The second rule of writing horror is don't write about horrible things if you don't want to write horror

[some-pers0n]

You can just say it's a mistake. It's so much worse to try and excuse it

[wouldvecouldveshouldve]

here to spread awareness about a tragedy that has occurred today. my heart goes out to all of the victims and the victims' families.

link to post

[furiousgoldfish]

personal post (tw: suicidal ideation, detailed descriptions of psychological and emotional abuse, osdd, alters, theories about alters splitting)

I have a child alter who is wildly suicidal, to the point where they'll push me to commit suicide with every opportunity, and try to do psychological damage to me as an attempt to make me suicidal. I've been trying to figure out for years what was it that made them so determined to die, with no luck because this alter does not give any information away, and seems to hate me and my attempts.

Recently I've had a flashback where I remembered what it was like to be their age. It felt like I had to die. There was constant pressure, almost like a duty, that I have to be thinking about ending my life at all times. I needed to make sure I wasn't alive for long. And I felt this at all times, that continuing to be alive is a failure and I need to do whats right. It was bizarre to remember. But there had to be a reason I felt this.

I attempted again to probe at the alter, to try and figure out whats the reason for all this, what was done to us to make us so determined to die? And this time I managed to get a little bit of information – the the alter lashed out at me saying 'well there's no other way! remember this!' and I got some interesting flashbacks of psychological abuse. I knew vaguely this was going on, but forgot for the most part, that it had any effect on me. (tw for the next part)

When I was about 8 or 9, I got my own room, and one of my caretakers, my grandmother, had an issue with that. Until then, she was able to lock me in her own room and beat me, because I slept in there, but now it was a bit more difficult to catch me. So, she would often stand in my doorway, and scream at me, for hours, in bouts of intense rage. I thought this was normal at the time, just because it was so common, and nobody did anything to stop it.

She would start by calling me animal names, and demonic names, telling me that I'm the most selfish brat to ever exist who only ever thinks of themselves, and I will burn in hell for it – she would describe it in detail how I would be boiled eternally, there was no escape from it. Then she would go on to tell me how everything that is wrong in the world is directly my fault – my parents fighting, other people being upset, her entire life and misery, that was all on me, I was the direct cause of it. And then, she would go on to describe in detail, how she was going to kill me, usually suffocating me with her bare hands. And she would swear and promise that she would do it, she'd challenge me to not even think that it wouldn't happen. And then she'd go on to describe how much I deserved that, how everything I do in life is done directly to ruin her life, to cause her misery, how I'm a demon who is only happy when she suffers, how I satisfy myself by torturing her, how I am the most twisted, cruel, despicable, demonic, monstrous, unforgivable, horrendous ugly creature that ever existed, worst person in the entire world, and how I should be deeply ashamed of myself and everything I've ever done. She would state very clearly how everything in the entire world would be better if I didn't exist.

Now, me being age 9 or something like that, I thought, well, maybe she's right, maybe I am a bad person, maybe I am selfish by not forfeiting every second of my life to others, maybe I really am the reason everyone is fighting all the time, maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I need to think about others more often, maybe I need to be more critical of myself. But, no matter how much I changed my behaviour, her rage wouldn't stop, until I was faced with the inescapable feeling of just being so intrinsically wrong and defected that I shouldn't exist. I remember wanting to disappear, wanting to fall trough the floor and into the earth and cease and desist. I would have to spend hours and hours listening to her scream, telling me I should have been murdered the second I was born.

And at this point my father had tried to/almost killed me a few times so death felt like a very inevitable and natural thing to happen to me. I wasn't even scared of upset about it because it just seemed like one of the normal things you know? If you're small and you see things are bad you easily accept your fate. If everyone around you thinks you should die, then you will die soon and thats that.

So by the age of 13 I was full on suicidal, I saw no value in myself, I felt violence and pain was all I deserved because everyone agreed upon it, and it was what I was experiencing at all times. I couldn't stop listening to the screaming and at the end of it, I just agreed with it, it felt true, why would anyone say it so many times, with such intense rage, if it was made up? And by the person who knew me since I was born? I had no arguments against it.

And then one day I was like, wait, this will kill me. Her screaming at me will force me into suicide. I can't have that. I need to cut her off if I want to live. This person doesn't love me, she's trying to kill me. I can't keep listening to her or I'll die. And then I did the funniest thing – I stopped talking to her even though we lived at the same house. And she did even funnier thing and DIDN'T NOTICE for a FULL YEAR. Which sounds wild on the surface, but here's how it played out: She would say something to me, I would stay quiet. She would assume my answer, and say what she wanted me to say, and add 'right?' at the end. I would stay quiet. She would continue the conversation as if I had said what she imagined. And this went on for a year.

With this new situation unfolding, I became certain that she didn't love me, even though she would cry and swear how she sacrificed everything for me and was the only person who loved me and so on – I literally caught her not noticing that she's cut off for a whole year. That was some heavy evidence and I had it.

The screaming however, continued, but now I decided, hey, I don't need to listen to this shit. I would put my hands on my ears (didn't have earphones in that era) and make whatever noises to shut her out. And it worked, I became unaffected by the screaming because I was no longer listening, she eventually stopped because it became obvious that I was oblivious to it and had no reaction, and I guess that was just not fun for her. I went on to not be severely affected by whatever she said because I understood by then that she's a liar and after my life and didn't care for her antics anymore.

Now you might be noticing a lack of consistency here – just how would a child who is completely broken and suicial just snap out of it, decide to cut off the cause of suicidality and then live on to be unaffected by the same abuse that almost cost them their life until then? I originally thought it was some survival instinct kicking in, letting me know that I'm too close to death and need to be putting some boundaries in my life, but that wasn't the case. I went on to think that I was no longer affected by the years of this abuse, I never thought about it, never felt like I needed to process that, I was convinced I dealt with this as a child.

What actually happened is that I became too close to suicide and I split. My osdd figured I was  close to death and something needed to be done. An alter formed who was able to contain all of that trauma inside themselves, the memories of how it felt to listen to that screaming for hours and hours until all hope was lost, until I could no longer see myself as anything but deserving of death and eternal hell. That was wrapped up and put inside a child version of myself who couldn't grow, couldn't see trough any of it, and had to stay trapped in that world, where they're always a minute away from being psychologically tortured and having their integrity assaulted in every way possible, and forced to listen how much their family members wanted to brutally murder them.

Once this alter split off, I was left in control of the body. I was able to evaluate the situation without the emotional effects of being brainwashed or tortured and decided to cut of grandmother immediately and to live my life without listening to her nonsense.

What is interesting to me is that this was the third time an alter split off in order for our life to be saved, one before was split due to my father, and another due to my grandmother, because of other nasty stuff she was doing to me. I'm trying to figure out just how neglected a child needs to be that a complete overhaul of attitude, sudden non-reactiveness to brainwashing and sudden complete apathy to screaming interactions, is just not noticed. Like this kid was close to death seconds before and now they're just fine and going on about their day ignoring everyone, and nobody noticed.

And this is not me being strong or resilient or anything like that. It was my brain tearing my memories and emotions in pieces and containing them into alters so that I would be able to live on without comitting suicide. If this hadn't happened I'd be dead. This also meant that all of that trauma would come back and make me sick for the rest of my life, or until I resolve it. That was me sacrificing my future in order to be able to survive the present. Developing trauma disorders that meant I would have to live while the pressure to commit suicide is always present in my brain, but I can resist it because I don't remember how it came to be there.

*

So, back to the main plot, after I finally extracted this information from my trapped, tortured alter, who just wanted to end it all, I said 'okay, well give the trauma to me, I'm older so it makes sense for me to handle it.'

I didn't handle it well. It was instant pain, dread, horror, I wanted to be dead. I was bedridden for days, kept re-experiencing the screaming, remembered  how many times I listened to descriptions of myself getting murdered, felt very horrified about it, and couldn't see how I thought this wouldn't affect me. What even needs to be wrong with a person to go tell a child in detail how they're going to murder them, how is this giving anyone pleasure. Feeling very icky about that. How hard would it be not to speak out loud your children-murdering fantasies. Get a secret diary or something for heavens sake.

It's a few days later and I am feeling, kinda weak, kinda close to passing out at all times, a bit shaken, bit scared. Very betrayed. Thankfully my sense of self is enough well established that I never doubt if anything that was said to me back then was true, because I'm so disgusted with the person who said it, I'm just feeling grossed out with it. I don't think I've managed to take in all of the trauma from the child alter, it wouldn't be something I could experience in a few days, it's been years of that stuff. But I'm glad to make progress, I'm pleased that something originally nonsensical makes sense, I'm glad I can make connections to why this alter is so suicidal, and I can at least try to make it easier on them. I'm hopeful that one day this part of me won't need to be trapped in an eternal state of a child being told to die.

[vague-humanoid]

[torchflies]

*Little blurb about Jake’s terrible childhood and the five siblings he raised on his own. It might become a series 😉*

“Ness Seresin is born on Caddo Lake, split between Texas and Louisiana.

He comes a month too early.

(Or, a brief look into the childhood of Jake Seresin, who wasn't always Jake, and the five kids he raised).”

[canadiannationalfox]

Pre-Murder Drones Fanfic/Drabble - A Dove's Harp - Jessa fanfic

tw// child abuse mention

Tessa was finally allowed out of her room, a few days prior she had pulled the ultimate hilarious stunt. Since her mother, Louisa, had planned a piano recital for the 13 year old girl, since it had happened without Tessa's say in the matter, Tessa had changed at the last minute from playing a classical inspired melody to a song from the olden times known simply as 'The Hours Song' or 'Insomnia Party'. Tessa had gotten in so much trouble, however, all of her Dad's friends who were in attendance found it mildly entertaining.

Louisa dragged Tessa into the library by her wrist. "Mother, I'm sorry! I will be better!" Tessa pleaded as she was brought to the study.

Louisa let go of Tessa when they got to the heart of the library, Louisa's old harp from when she was a kid sat in there, it was a mahogany Celtic harp. "Due to your LITTLE STUNT you pulled, you will no longer be playing the piano, young lady!" the artificially blonde woman barked.

Tessa sat by the harp and she started trying it out.

"No, no NO!" Louisa scolded harshly, "You're doing it all wrong!" She grabbed Tessa's tender wrists and adjusted the girl's positioning.

The girl with the cool toned dark hair flinched as she was posed like a ball-jointed doll harshly. "Mother! That hurts!"

"Well, maybe it wouldn't if you didn't do so many things that would result in you getting locked in your room, your wrists wouldn't be so sore, now would they?"

James walked into the library, as he was coming to look for a book for work and heard the squabbling. He ran over and despite him usually taking Louisa's side, he intervened sharply yet with an air of worry in his voice, "Louisa, luv! Let's maybe hire her a tutor for harp instead."

"Why?" Louisa barked before she realized it was James and she softened her voice, "Sorry, James, dear... but, I am certainly capable."

James offered, "Perhaps, she would be better receptive to a tutor closer to her age?"

Louisa tilted her head in a way that made the soft alabaster coloured swan feathers on her sunhat droop with disappointment, her voice carrying a tone of discontentment as she uttered firmly, "Fine then... but she is not allowed to quit the harp."

James lead Tessa away from the library, insisting in a more gentle voice, "How's about you go play with your drones, Tessa? I am going to go phone around to see if there's any harp tutors within an hours drive of here.."

Tessa was thankful in that moment for her Father. She didn't say anything but silently nodded. She didn't want to play the harp, ever, but, this at least bought her some time to try to think of a way of getting out of it.

The Elliott heiress went to her room and sat at her work desk to sulk, not noticing the ponytailed maid drone there, tidying up Tessa's collection of stuffed animals.

"Something wrong, Princess Tess?" J asked worriedly, approaching her favourite human slowly, holding one hand out so when she did get to Tessa's side that she'd be ready to hold one of the girl's hands.

Tessa took a gentle hold of J's hand as soon as J was closer to her. "Oh, just... I finally am being long-term punished for my piano recital..."

"I told you not to play that silly song," J sighed softly, rubbing her thumb on the back of Tessa's hand.

"I don't want to play the harp, Jaybird, especially if Mother is forcing me to."

J knew Tessa hated doing what she was told to do if there was no fun involved but she'd have to comply. She soothed to the sulking girl whom she adored so much, "It's not that bad," deciding to mention something she had never said to Tessa before, "I... Actually like harp music, it's really beautiful."

The grey eyed Elliott girl looked into J's platinum white LED eyes for reassurance. "Y-you do?" she asked, her voice inquisitive and a bit more hopeful, "I guess I could learn to play, you know, if it's for you." Tessa didn't know why she felt like this. Like she cherished what J thought of her, she was J's boss, and yet, it made her all a flutter inside thinking about doing something to show her gratitude to J, even if it would be learning to play the harp.

J offered as she hugged Tessa gently, "If you get really good at the harp, maybe you could play my favourite songs, like Clair de Lune and Eternal Dream."

"I'd like that, maybe... if you're not harsh towards me when I'm still learning..." Tessa broke the hug and looked away shyly, not sure of what she was feeling in that moment, all she knew right then was that she wanted J to be happy.

The drone with the beautiful platinum ponytails soothed lovingly, "I won't," she giggled and placed one hand over her heart, " I promise, knight's honour."

"Jaybird... be careful...maybe use more corporate talk, I don't want Mother catching us still 'playing princess'... we will save knight and princess for when we are sure we are alone, 'right then?"

J sadly nodded, remarking numbly, "I understand boss, clearer than an HR handbook"

Tessa pulled J into a hug and whispered to her beloved drone, "But... deep down, just know, I appreciate everything, alright Jaybird?"

J let slip from her voice chip, "Of course, my dear dove." She was about to apologize for letting that slip out, but Tess was already responding with an almost angel soft voice,

"You're the best, J... thank you."

Every time Tessa would have harp practice, J stood by, watching over, both since James hard ordered J to be there if Tessa needed anything, but also so J could hear her beloved human girl getting slowly better at the harp, which made J's adoration for the girl grow more and more every day. "We will never be together," she sighed to herself quietly, watching Tessa practice Clair de Lune, "but, I will still dream... I want my beloved boss to be my princess."

The End

[onlytiktoks]

https://www.kansascity.com/news/local/article295976059.html

[fxtalitygod]

Survival. IX

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint)

Word Count: 3.4k

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

You remembered the most content morning you had ever had. It was a relatively beautiful and tranquil day in the garden. The sky was clear, and the sun was beaming brightly, yet the weather was pleasant. It was the most satisfying day you had ever had within the temple.

It was also the day your twins spoke their first word.

You had been spending quality time with your twins, your attendant joining the activities as you both basked in their childish nature. She had grown as close as family and acted like an aunt to your kids, and if you were being honest, she felt like a sister to you in some sense. You truly appreciated her company and assistance throughout the time you had known her— especially when sharing this memorable moment.

It felt like it was out of a dream when the word effortlessly slipped from your daughter’s mouth. Moments ago, she was a child who only knew how to babble, laugh, and cry, but now she was a little girl capable of speaking. And if your daughter hadn’t surprised you enough, your son letting the same word slip next had left you paralyzed with shock.

“Mama.”

Yes, it was a standard word for a child to speak first other than Dada or Papa— a cliché, as most would say, but that was the last thing on your mind. To hear your child acknowledge you for the first time and know they recognize you as their mother was a pleasure that could not compare to the joys of sex, alcohol, or money– it is a pleasantry of its own. You swore you would do anything to hear them call you their "Mama" for as long as possible.

And if anyone took that away from you, they would be damned to hell.

The screams of a woman echoed through the temple. The shrieks were ear-splitting and could cause anybody's ears to bleed upon walking into the hearing radius. You could only listen as the screams continued, the sound muffling out as your ears began to ring again.

Why was she screaming? The woman in question should have been thrilled that your children were deceased– they would have been a threat to her. She was probably trying to win Sukuna's favor in some fucked up way. The bitch had no right to grieve in your presence nor in solitude. You had every want to strangle her soundless; however, something stopped you from that impulse.

Your throat began to burn.

At that moment, you realized the screams of grief and agony were those of your own. Nobody was present in that room, just you and Sukuna, as your cries echoed in the room and nearby halls. You were blinded by your own tears as you stared at the now-blurry image of your twin's hanging corpses, choking on your own sobs as you collapsed to the ground, holding your midriff with the painful thought that the life you had cultivated within you for nine months and raised for six years was now reduced to carcasses hanging from a wall.

Your blessings had been snatched from you, from right under your nose.

You should have known things would have not been so simple. You should have never let your guard down for even a second. This was your punishment for being so blissfully ignorant when you should have analyzed all the possible faults in your plan and anticipated any threats that remained to perform a clean escape.

You stood on weak legs, shuffling to the wall that was covered in blood. In your mind, you always thought that the blankness of those walls would drive you mad– you never anticipated that the splash of color would be the thing that forced you to insanity. The crimson dripping down the wall proved you wrong.

Your hands shook as your fingers hovered over the pins that were holding your children in place, flinching back as you swallowed the bile rising up your throat before reaching for one of the pins again. You made an attempt to hold back your sobs but with little success. Huffs, spittles, and gurgles continued to resonate from you as you held back your cries– you looked pathetic.

Your hands felt weak as you pulled the pin, the audible squelching sound of the flesh rubbing against the item sickening you to the core, yet you persisted. You pulled the lower pins that you could reach from your son and daughter, tears gushing out of your eyes as you did so. No torture was as great as this, especially when you went to reach the higher ones. You stood on your toes, stretching for the pins that were sunk into your twin's hands, but it was futile. Under normal circumstances, you could have reached that high; you would have improvised a way to do it, but your mind was numb, and your body felt weak.

"Help me," you choked as you continued to reach.

The only response you got was silence.

"Please," you weakly whispered, "Please, help me."

Silence lingered again, but before you could plea a second time– your husband spoke.

"Why?"

You paused in your movement, your breath hitching as the simple word echoed in your head.

"Why?" you repeated, bewilderment found in your whisper, "Why?"

Your head slowly turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with fury as you looked at Sukuna.

"I'll tell you why," you seethed, "For eight years, I have lived in this temple with you and your sickened whores and bastards– lived in your residence with little to no complaint. I have endured everything bestowed upon me and have managed to keep my spine straight with my head held high– and when in your presence, I have given you nothing but the lowest bows of respect despite the falsities of that action; I sacrificed my pride!" you paused to breathe before continuing, "I bore you children and dealt the blunt trauma of my impossible pregnancy and labor without complaint or ask of favor because you and I both know I would have gladly died in the process. In my life here, I have asked you for ONE SINGULAR FAVOR that would benefit both of us!"

Another pause as you caught your breath.

"The very least you could do," your voice shook with exasperation, "is grant me this one selfish wish."

"Do you understand the line you are crossing, Little Flower," Sukuna threatened as he took a few steps forward.

"Well aware," you answered without hesitation, "but at least if you killed me now, I would reunite with my children and be rid of you," you grinned mockingly at your partner.

You watched as the menacing man raised a hand, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Normally you would have feared that this was the end of the line, but that was before your worst nightmare had already came true. Some part of you wished that he would hit you, hoping that once he did, he would snap you out of what you hoped what was an illusion of some sort, a night terror, a cursed technique, possibly a hallucination— all three were very much possibilities, but deep down you knew you were in denial, however, you did not want to accept it.

The slap never came.

Instead, your companion reached his arm above you, removing the pins that held your twins hostage against the wall. Sukuna took his time, clearly in no rush, leaving you antsy as you began to wriggle in impatience. You just wanted to hold them and look upon their innocent face. Maybe they were not dead, maybe there was still a breath of life in them, and you could somehow convince your husband to use his curse reversal technique on them due to the terms of your contract.

Maybe, just maybe…

Once the last pins restraining your children were removed, you were quick to cradle your twins, holding them close to your chest as more sobs escaped from your quivering lips. Your fingers lightly touched their skin as you caressed their faces with motherly gentleness. After moments, your cries subsided into a quiet lament as you continued to hold your little boy and girl.

You would have done anything to prevent this fate.

"Mama..." a voice spoke, but excessively strained and quiet.

You jumped up to see your little boy's eyes open no more than a slit. Without hesitation, you rushed to grab his face, babbling words of encouragement for him to stay awake. You were eager as you prepared to attempt to perform reverse cursed technique, but before you could, another strained voice sounded.

"Ma-Mama."

You panicked once more, moving to face your daughter as her condition was nearly the same. You were torn on what to do and had almost turned to Sukuna for his assistance, but it was useless. As quickly as those words were spoken were as fast as they faded back into eternal sleep.

What was this? You had to ask again, but what had you done to deserve this? To be worthy of this torture? Was there not a more deserving candidate for this cruelty you were enduring? Had you just been born to be cursed like this?

Questions raveled your mind, and thoughts ate at you alive– you were beginning to spiral. Your voice, along with many of the other voices from your past, flooded your head, screaming at you all at once as the memories began to invade your consciousness. Your head was starting to hurt from lingering in your mind, far away from reality. If anyone were to look upon your form, you would seem like the hollow husk of a woman based on how you sat there unmoving and totally silent as you stared blankly at the bloody wall– it seemed like you were looking through it like a piece of glass, that is how lost you were, until...

Everything went silent.

The voices in your head had settled, and all you could hear was Sukuna's breathing and your own echoing throughout the room. It was eerily quiet as the two of you remained.

"Their first words were their last."

You spoke without thought; the words had just slipped as you turned back to the father of your children, being met with his expressionless stare. You did not expect a response, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no happier about this situation than you were; however, Sukuna was not grieving like you were. Your reasons for your dour moods were different, but that did not matter– you both were upset about what occurred.

As you held your husband's stare, it was almost as if you had some sort of understanding with one another, communicating without speaking before turning your attention back to your twins. With caution, you gently lifted your children into your arms, slowly standing as you managed to balance their limp bodies in your hold as you walked toward the door.

Your feet moved without command as you walked through the corridor, Sukuna walking at your side as you ventured in silence. The experience was almost that of your arrival at the temple– all eyes were on you; however, there were no whispers of gossip or vial comments and disgusting displays of arousal as you departed. The tension radiating from your aura was too great for such ill manners to be publicly displayed.

You had no clue where you were going and were hardly thinking about it. Your mind was void of consciousness as you reached the grand doors of the temple, stepping out into the cool night air. A part of you wishes you could have enjoyed it, to relish your first time outside the temple walls since your marriage, but the feeling was bitter and dull, especially as you looked upon the lights illuminating from your village.

Trekking through the terrain, you watched the lights grow brighter and more prominent, similar to the unknown feeling festering in your chest. You could hear their voices, their chanting of uprising as you approached the crowd, stopping just at the border of your village. One of the village elders was the first to notice you and Sukuna's approaching figures before ceasing the noise, focusing on your arrival.

"Y/n L/n, you have finally come home. Your family will be happy to know that you have finally returned," pausing to look at Sukuna before bringing his attention back to you, "It was wise of this monster to return you as requested. Come now child, we shall reunite you with your family."

You could hear him speak and understand his meaning and indirect stab at Sukuna's pride, but the words flowed from one ear to the other as your body remained rooted at the barrier.

"Come now, child, you are free!" the elder insisted as he motioned to you, confused and seemingly irritated at your lack of response.

"No."

The word slipped out seamlessly as you blankly stared at the man, watching his expression turn into shock.

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"It means what I said," you simply responded before continuing, "Why would I come back to a home that sent me away like a lamb to the slaughter. You presented me like a slab of meat to the man you call a monster as if he were some valued patron, but suddenly, I have become worthy of retrieval after how many years? Why is that?"

"You ungrateful woman! We have pursued you for some time due to your parents' request. They paid handsomely to bring you back home, paid enough to fund our cause."

"And what cause was that?!" you retaliated.

"To kill that vile creature who stole you from us, my dear daughter!"

"...Mother," you whispered to yourself as your mom came into view, your father following her as they made their presence known.

"But it seems his influence has already tainted your mind," your mother spoke with a solemn look in her eyes, "But we can fix that if you just come home." the woman persisted as she held her arms out for a welcoming embrace.

Her comfort was tempting, but there was a lingering feeling of hesitance the longer you looked at the picture. This was something you wished for a long time, to be welcomed home with open arms, but the dream seemed stale as you stood there unmoving.

"Then why were harmless children slaughtered in his place?" you questioned.

"Harmless?" your parents uttered, baffled by your statement, "Those children were born to become monsters along with their father! They were far from harmless! That is why we had to cut them out of the picture!" your father yelled.

"...You did it?" you softly asked.

You could see your father's mouth open before closing, moving his gaze from your eyes to the motionless bodies in your arms. The disgusted faces your parents held were replaced with one of bewilderment and fear. They could finally understand your reluctance.

"Y/n..."

"They were harmless..." you started in a mutter, "They were not monsters! They were innocent! And you accused them of crimes they have never committed!"

"With their upbringing, it would have been inevitable! They were their father's children, after all!" the village elder interrupted, disdain laced in his voice.

"They were not guilty of Sukuna's crimes! They were innocent children!" you voiced, outraged with the small-minded thinking.

You looked to your parents for support but were only met by them avoiding your stare. They believed their actions were reasonable and considered them valid. You were not the one who was influenced... they were.

"Damn you all," you muttered, turning your back to the villagers.

"We did this for you to survive, Y/n! And here you are, well and alive. You kept your promise, so please come home!"

"Survived...survived..." Your chest heaved as you began to laugh hysterically. You placed your children down before rising, "Is this what survival is, just staying alive? Well, if that is the case, then yes, I have survived just like I promised, but with the cost of my life! I may have survived, but I will never live...not without them."

"There will be other opportunities to have children, my dear, with a far better suitor," your mother attempted to persuade, her arms still held open.

"Excuse me?"

That had done it.

"The man you practically sold me to was far from my first choice of significant other, but at least he managed to give my life some meaning, something to live for...and you took it from me, the last crowd of people I thought would do such a thing...how naive of me."

"Y/n, if we-"

"If you what?! Tell me, if you had known those children were mine, would you have spared them, given them mercy?"

No response.

"That's what I thought. You know I had hoped to come home with open arms, and shown by tonight, my wish came true; however, that was before I had the twins– the dream expanded to have all three of us welcomed with warmth...how pitifully optimistic of me."

"Y/n, I cannot tell you those events you hoped for would have come to fruition, but I can tell you this: you can start over, have a family you have always dreamed of... pure children."

Silence.

"They. Were. PURE!"

And just like that, the extent of that unusual feeling lingering in your chest had unleashed. The full extent of your furry had combusted in the form of your cursed energy and technique. Within the blink of an eye, what was once a bustling village full of chatter and laughter was now a blazing inferno filled with screams and cries.

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their bodies contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were retired to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollers of distress with its rapid thumping.

They were now suffering the pain and torture you had suffered for years to its full extent...

Unlike you, it was the kind of punishment they deserved.

You allowed yourself to view the sight for a few seconds longer before picking up your son and daughter, balancing them in your embrace again, and turning your back towards the village. You began to walk toward the temple, knowing better than to run off, but it was not like you had a reason to go anywhere else. There was no life for you. You were to remain by Sukuna's side until you died, and you were content with that.

"Y/n."

With all the heightened emotions and events that occurred only moments ago, you had forgotten Sukuna was there. The curse user had not muttered a word nor made a movement. He idly watched your wrath unfold, watched as you burnt your home to the ground.

You paused for a minute, looking blankly ahead as you thought of the past and reflected on your choices. Out of every action you committed, there was one you regretted most.

"I should have killed myself that morning, the morning after the ceremony. It would have saved me a lot of trouble and heartache."

With that, you walked off into the night, letting that thought of regret linger in your mind.

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one@rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade

[xxrobotessaxx]

Murder Drones Poem for Louisa Elliott Swan Song - A Free Verse Poem

You stood tall like an Obelisk always looming over me chastising me for my shortcomings What did he ever see in you?

When I was a tot, I looked up to you. The Red Queen at my pretend tea parties. Calling me your pretty little dear, It wasn't meant to last.

You treated beauty like chasing a sunset always giving chase but never catching it always gawking in the mirror always going to your appointments

Blonde, then red, onto platinum, and blonde again all while hiding your mouse brown roots and greys Hiding your cruel face with the foundation and blush It was never enough for you, was it?

You already couldn't stand me by the time I was 7 Pulling my knots and braiding with the force of a hawk Barking for me to hold still, telling me beauty was pain I thought that was the worst, no, a calm before the storm.

I turned 11, I wasn't thin enough was I? Taking away noon tea to fit your old clothes Hiding my falling and molted dove feathers in shame whilst you flaunted your fool's golden perm

I had greys by 12, which I hid to avoid your scolding. Turquoise and blue sharpies were my shield Keeping me from being pushed to look like you And yet you still put me down

Oh mother, that swan feather in your hat Was it to show to the world you were beautiful? Or was it to convince yourself you were? Since your wicked heart was hideous.

Were you jealous my drones were there for me? Were you jealous I wanted to be my own girl? Were you so jealous you pulled Father away from me? Were you jealous I was young and you weren't anymore?

Your vanity turned to power hunger. Taking it out on my drones and I. Locking me away like Rapunzel in her tower To keep up your illusion of perfection.

You enjoyed your power trip, I remember that, bruising my wrists from the chains and your grip. Only then after scolding me for the marks And making me hide them with gloves or concealer

Loved, something you insisted you were, yet I saw you push Father's advances away I saw how you treated the drones and I. There was not an ounce of love I could see.

That night of the gala, you wanted to will me away To Frumplebucket's son, so you could reap in the spoils No more little Tessa to make your greys worse. And yet you perished, we all did, from an act of your cruelty

And now, I'm living a new life, free from you. brought back by the maid drone you envied the one who took away your role of caregiver to me the jay bird who stole my heart.

When I think back, to all my memories Even with the cruel voices in my mind, Singing that I have fallen to being vain like you I do not fall prey to their words.

I am proud of who I have become now, I am proud to say I am not like you, Your vile heart wicked cloaked by your beauty fleeting Beauty that was merely in the end, just a swan song.

[explodcor]

Anonymous said: "You can't just divert everyone's attention to AFO when you've also done wrong things. That's called scapegoating. We don't have to forgive either of you."

Katsuki just stared in wide-eyed awe at the audacity of the dumbass anon. "...Holy fuckin' shit! You're such a dumbass!"

"Don't fuckin' put words in my mouth, bitch!" he snapped. "Do you not realize how fuckin' insane you sound, comparing a kid bullying another kid to a fuckin' mass murderer and child groomer?"

"And why the fuck should I care if you forgive me?! For fuckin' what?! I didn't bully you! The only person who I wanted forgiveness from was Izuku!"

He shook his head. "I could save a million people, and it still wouldn't be enough for you dipshits. You're a fuckin' waste of my time!"

"Your brains are fuckin' broken! You think mistakes can never be forgiven no matter how much that person atones. When you're saying I'm as bad or worse than a damn serial killing villain, there's something massively fuckin' wrong with your goddamn logic!"

[mad-hunts]

thinking about making a merrymaker that isn't, in fact, a joker fan-boy like they made him in the comics for some damn reason (LOL) and whom appears to he ironically nicknamed that until you really observe him / get close to him because this man tends to celebrate when he kills someone like some SICK and TWISTED menace to society since to him, this is the only way to keep his daughter alive.

this is because he saved her when she was on the verge of death by making a deal with a death god which ended with him basically becoming a zombie BC this would prevent them from getting in trouble for messing with the living as they ALSO have people they answer to... and this was a loophole to do that + he offered himself up to do literally ANYTHING to bring her back, which made this death god go 'HMM. anything, huh?'

and as a result, made him subsequently become this god's champion by bringing them souls that had somehow escaped them over the years, so yeahhh. eventually, his debt to them will be 'paid off,' but there are a SURPRISING amount of souls out there that have cheated death.

now, how are we feeling about this idea, ladies, gentlemen, and enbies? OH + he's also russian and oozes black stuff from his eyes as a result of being a zombie, as well as wears a plague doctor costume while delivering his uhh. Victims to this death god. so, i'm keeping his motif from the comics, but pretty much everything else about him is drastically different 💀 and he's also a pathologist + surgeon / researcher instead of a psychiatrist

[spymeister]

So, as an aside- because this is the third post I've spotted about it.

Write the uncomfortable things. Write the questionable things. Write the things that are on brand for the voice you're writing in, or the character you're playing.

I'm not saying going and writing out things for sheer shock value, mind you- with the purpose of deliberately riling someone up. I'm saying that if you're writing a villain, and they're going to do villainous things that are immoral and evil?

Within reason? Write them.

Is your hero an anti-hero with skewed morals?

Write them.

You can write them, and still absolutely abhor them. You can write them, and absolutely do not believe that ANY of what you're writing is the right thing to do. You can write them, and still keep your personal morals. Humans are not absolute creatures, and we are not solely in the realms of blacks and whites when it comes to presentation of mores and morals.

So. Write them, but tag them. Be responsible with your words. Tag them so that those that are triggered by them can avoid them. Tag them so that people know what to watch out for.

I cannot be any more concise.

[energylessartist]

... I hope my father curses my name when he's burning in hell one day. I hope he remembers, if nothing else, the last time I tried to be emotionally vulnerable to him when he's one day on his death bed and wondering why I'm not there for him. I hope he remembers his reaction, how he mocked me and said, without directly saying it, that he knew my mental state better than I did. That he remembers every time he yelled at me for nothing. That he finally realizes why I started lieing to him at all. That he realizes it was him telling me there was no way I could ever be stressed that made me finally realize he didn't fucking care about me as much as he did about being right. I hope he realizes that was the day I decided I wanted the fuck out of that house. I hope he realizes I loved him so, so much before that day, and even more before he lost his job and started being home more during the day. I hope he realizes I was trying so hard to be what he wanted. That I was frustrated about my failures. That I thought it was my fault and my fault alone that our relationship was so bad for half a decade. That I wanted him to bring me out back and put a bullet through my skull for 4 years before I realized he was also at fault, even just a little bit, and still did for another 4. I hope he realizes that I don't fucking care what he thinks or thought. It was his actions that pushed me away. Him yelling at me for breathing too hard. Getting mad and pushing me into a defensive reaction because I flapped my hands around after a stressful-for-me conversation with him to try to calm myself down, which he later claimed was started by me. Constantly accusing me of and punishing me for lieing, even when I could prove I wasn't. Because my being guilty, my being under his control, was more important to him than my freedom. I hope he realizes it was his bullshit behavior that led to my love for him shriveling like a jungle tree planted in the driest part of the desert. I also hope my mother and sister realize I still love them so deeply. That I still wish I could maintain a relationship with them. That they still have a place in my heart. That I still care and worry about them... that they're why I stayed, so he wouldn't hurt them like he did me... that they're why I stayed, because I'm scared, even now, to lose them... that I never would've left if momma had divorced my father literally ever... that I want, even now, a closer relationship with them... that they're part of why I didn't commit suicide by the time I was 14, even if they don't believe or realize it right now... part of why I didn't when he told me outright to kill myself and see what happened, an event that happened when they weren't home, an event I know they'll never believe happened...