#tw forced family

[digenerate-trash]

Do a remaster on the Yan bailey smut but this time it’s DOB yan bailey please and thank you 💕☺️💕

God, I want all of the Dob characters so badly (dob harper is so disgusting I wanna fuck him until I bleed out.) Back to badly tho!!!

AMAB Bailey | GN PC

Bailey has always been kind of a mystery. He's got a lot of things that a caretaker wouldn't have. Nice clothes and, a polite demeanor. He's always well put together and calm. It's nothing like you would imagine someone surrounded by children to be. He's so kind and clean that you're not even sure why some of the more deranged threats you've heard around town threaten to send people to "the caretaker"

Bailey is so kind to you that the moment you're in his office begging for any kind of job he agrees. You tell him you're new to cleaning and general care but you'll do your best. And to your surprise, he believes you.

Every hour he checks on you. He makes light conversation with you and pats your little head. You always smile at him when he does these things it makes you both feel nice.

Near the end of your first shift, you saw him in the kitchen. His gloves are shoved haphazardly into his back pocket and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he portions and cuts bits of meat for a stew. His hands are a bit shaky his knuckles are covered in bruises, fresh ones. He seems a little frustrated so you offer to help.

He steps aside letting you... and from then on you are allowed to stay even past dinner. Bailey still pays you for your time as long as you eat in his office with him.

The first meal you both had was strange. He kept staring. Every spoonful of stew was good but slightly strange as Bailey watched. It's like he was waiting for something to happen... you could never figure it out. But he got less strange after that. Every meal since he's been staring less and less. You're grateful for it.

Getting paid by Bailey is always a journey though. He jokes and laughs and makes conversation with you. It's clear he's stretching out this time he's supposed to be paying you for your work. One time he even joked that if you married him he'd take care of the loan sharks that were terrorizing your family....

You never mentioned them to him before...

Bailey's advances only get less subtle as the days and weeks go on. It's good work. You get a meal every day. The orphans call you "mom" sometimes and Bailey refers to you as his spouse. Every day there's meat on the table and you get enough money each week to keep you and your family above water. But never enough to quit your job with Bailey...

And then it happens. You bring up the wrong question while you're helping make dinner. But how were you supposed to know?

"Where do you get all this meat anyway?" You ask offhandedly. Sure you're curious but you are not pressed for the answer. In your mind, it doesn't matter. Bailey can afford it. So why wouldn't he?

Bailey twitches a bit he smirks when he tilts his head at you. "I cut my meat. I save every bit. Makes things cheaper." He explains but he pauses too long between every sentence. Like an inside joke, no one is laughing along too.

You try to laugh it off but Bailey gets closer. "You want to see it?" Bailey asks. But you back away from him. You don't.

Bailey reaches out to pet your head just like the softer moments before. "You are basically part of the family. I can tell you."

Family. That dreaded word again. Bailey brings it up in front of the orphans far too often for your liking. You don't need to be Bailey's family. You have your own.

Bailey grips your hips before shoving you into the counter. It hits your lower back stunning you a bit. You didn't see this coming- his gloved hands press bruises into your hips.

He leans down to kiss you forcefully his mouth tastes of blood. So much blood that it's got to be unhealthy. You choke as his tongue presses over yours your mouth is coated in his saliva.

Bailey pulls away from you a bit before he hooks his hand into your waistband and shoves it down exposing your body to the warm air of the kitchen. Bailey hoists you up onto the counter with a surprising amount of strength before dipping his face between your legs to lick at you.

Bailey is covering you in his drool no part of your groin is left untouched as he licks and bites away between your thighs. You trembling now your mouth still tastes like blood and you bite back moans and little sounds as Bailey makes sure you feel thoughily violated.

It feels like hours before he pulls away from your hips. He adjusts them as close to the edge of the counter as he can before he unzips his pants letting his cock spring out and tease at your wet hole. He pets your head lightly before grabbing you by the back of your neck and holding you tightly before thrusting in. Bailey is so rough with your body that it hurts. No matter how hard he tried to prepare you. Bailey is big...

He leans in still holding you by the scruff before whispering to you. "You're mine now." He lets out a dark chuckle before he continues his thrusting is getting worse. The counter rattles with every movement and what's worse is Bailey seems to be enjoying himself too much. You tried to be nice and accept his help. You just wanted a job. You just wanted things to be easy for once

You whimper and whine as he keeps pressing into you your body feels cheap and used as Bailey holds you tightly Bailey rubs the outline of his dick in your stomach with his thumb. He's proud as he feels it making you look.

when bailey finally cums inside you he keeps your hips pressed tightly against his. Every twitch of his dick is felt by your over-sensitive walls. And bailey laughs a bit when he finally pulls out he grabs your leg keeping your spread open as he looks at your hole dripping his cum onto the counter.

"You look good enough to eat-"

[galaxymagitech]

HERE LIES JASON TODD...again—wait no he's back—

(I don't actually know how many times Jason has died, but here are the dates I used:

1983 - Jason is introduced 1988 - A Death in the Family 2005 - Under the Hood begins 2006 - The Batarang (after which the Superboy Prime Punch Effect is seen again, so...he almost definitely died here) 2021 - I'm 99% sure Jason dies in Task Force Z and is brought back in the next issue. 2024 - Jason is killed by Zur en Arrh and brought back by Lazarus Resin.)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup Masterlist

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETED

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Total Parts: 17

Total Word Count: ~43.3k

Summary: A mission that was supposed to be easy doesn't go your way, but when does it ever when the 141 is involved? Aphrodisiacs that were incredibly powerful were used on yourself and Simon, and with one accident it took over your lives. Now, you need to figure out how to go about life as a newly mated Omega in a world made for Alphas.

Content Tags: Smut, Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Heat, Rut, Angst, Knotting, PIV Sex, Biting, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kinda Pregnancy Loss, Teasing, Use of Pet-Names, Simon is shit at talking and emotions, He figures it out tho, Dropping of the L word, Near Death, Pregnancy, Vomiting, Task Force 141 is a Pack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I just wanted to make sure anyone who needed (or wanted) to have a one-stop shop for the Maple Syrup series (and drabbles pertaining to it) can have it. Please send me asks! Masterlist under the Cut!

🧼 = smut, 🧸 = angst, 💞 = fluff

Main Storyline:

Part 1: Maple Syrup 🧼

Part 2: The Aftermath 🧸

Part 3: Alpha, Please 🧼💞

Part 4: Feral 💞

Part 5: The Hearing 🧸

Part 6: Talk 🧸

Part 7: Lost and Found 🧸 💞

Part 8: Hot and Cold 🧼 🧸

Part 9: Hoops 🧸

Part 10: Thirteen 🧸

Part 11: Tags 🧸

Part 12: Ghost 🧸

Part 13: Tea 🧸💞🧼

Part 14: Meetings 🧸💞

Part 15: Tears 🧸💞

Part 16: Nothing 🧸

Part 17: Happy 💞🧸

Drabbles, Oneshots, Side-Stories:

Simons Rut 🧼

Headcannons 💞🧸🧼

[cod-thoughts]

Day 5 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 2.3k

Relationships: 141 as family

Tags: Character study (kind of), ghosts relationship with food, talk of past starvation

Price had seen men who ate with discipline. He’d seen soldiers who treated food as fuel and nothing more, men who ate quickly so they could get back to the fight. But Ghost—Ghost was different. Keep reading under the cut or on AO3 Please don't read if it will harm you!

Price had seen men who ate with discipline. He’d seen soldiers who treated food as fuel and nothing more, men who ate quickly so they could get back to the fight. But Ghost—Ghost was different.

Price noticed it during their first mission together after Mexico, the way Ghost barely touched the rations, how he always seemed indifferent to food altogether. While the rest of the team would wolf down their meals after a hard day, Ghost would sit apart, mask half-raised just enough to eat mechanically, the food barely disappearing from his plate.

Price couldn’t blame him—Ghost had seen more than his fair share of suffering, been through things Price could only guess at. But the way Ghost treated food was unsettling. He ate as if it were a chore, something he had to endure but took no pleasure in. Sometimes, Price wondered if Ghost would’ve skipped eating altogether if it wouldn’t draw attention.

It wasn’t long before Price started to realise something: Ghost didn’t seem to eat until everyone else was done. Always the last one to touch his food, always picking at it, eyes distant and unreadable behind the mask.

“He’s like a machine,” Price muttered to himself one night as he watched Ghost push food around his plate again.

But he wasn’t a machine. He was a man—a man who never seemed to enjoy the simple act of feeding himself.

---

Soap was the first to notice how quiet Ghost was during meals. He wasn’t just quiet—he was silent. Even on the good days, when the team bantered and laughed, Ghost rarely said a word. He’d sit at the edge of the table, always near an exit, eating with deliberate, methodical movements. It was like he was somewhere else, far from the mess hall or the campfire.

At first, Soap assumed it was just Ghost being, well, Ghost. The man was silent in almost everything he did. But it started to feel different around mealtimes, like Ghost wasn’t just quiet because he didn’t want to talk—he was quiet because he didn’t want to be noticed.

One day, after a particularly brutal mission, the team gathered to eat around a fire, exhausted but grateful to be alive. Soap joked around, tossing comments at Gaz and Price, but when he glanced at Ghost, he saw the man wasn’t even looking at his plate. He was staring off into the distance, hands still, as if he’d forgotten the food was even there.

Soap, always the one to poke and prod, decided to press. “Ghost, mate, you gonna eat or stare at it until it gets cold?”

Ghost’s eyes flickered over, but his response was as indifferent as ever. “I’m fine.”

But Soap wasn’t buying it. He’d seen Ghost in the field, seen him push his body to the limit without a word of complaint. The man was relentless. But this—this was different. It wasn’t about discipline. It was about something deeper.

Soap let it go for the night, but the image stuck with him—Ghost sitting there, food untouched, eyes hollow behind the mask.

---

Gaz wasn’t one to interfere with anyone’s habits, but over time, he started to see patterns in Ghost’s behaviour that unsettled him. It wasn’t just that Ghost ate little and said even less—it was the way he seemed to treat food as a necessity he didn’t want to admit to. Like he was trying to deny something his body clearly needed.

Gaz thought back to a mission in the desert. They’d been on the move for days with minimal supplies, and by the time they’d reached an extraction point, everyone was running on fumes. The second they got back to base, the team devoured their rations with the ravenous hunger of men who’d been pushed to their limits.

But Ghost had waited. He sat there, watching the others eat, hands still, his face hidden beneath the mask. When he finally did start eating, it was slow—almost too slow, as if each bite had to be earned.

That was when Gaz started to wonder: Had Ghost been starved before?

He knew Ghost’s past was filled with trauma—stories whispered about what Simon Riley had survived. Torture, abuse, betrayal.

Gaz wasn’t naïve enough to ask, but something about the way Ghost treated food as a burden made it clear: hunger wasn’t a stranger to him. It was something he’d lived through, something that had left its mark.

One night, after another long mission, Gaz made a quiet observation. “You know, Ghost…you don’t have to earn your meals here.”

Ghost didn’t look up from his plate. He didn’t answer. But the silence felt different this time. He didn’t shrug off the comment, didn’t deflect it with his usual indifference. He just kept eating, slowly, methodically, as if Gaz’s words had struck something deeper than he’d ever admit.

---

Soap was the first to offer something off his own plate, casually sliding over a piece of steak one night when they were at base. It wasn’t much—a tiny, almost insignificant gesture—but the way Ghost looked at it made Soap pause. There was a flicker of hesitation, something between disbelief and discomfort.

“Not a fan of this part,” Soap explained, gesturing at his plate. “You can have it if you want. Need more protein anyway, right?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked from Soap to the offered food, and for a brief moment, he seemed to weigh his options. Finally, without a word, he accepted it, his gloved hand moving silently as he took the piece of steak.

Soap didn’t make a big deal out of it. He didn’t want to. But when Ghost finished his meal that night, Soap felt like something had shifted—something small, but important.

The next day, Gaz left his tomatoes untouched. “Never liked these,” he said casually, pushing them toward Ghost. Ghost’s gaze lingered on them for a moment before he reached out and claimed the offering, silently nodding his thanks. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step toward something deeper—toward a shared understanding.

---

Price understood that Ghost had a complicated relationship with food. He saw the way the man held back, eating in calculated bites, as if every morsel had to be earned. Price didn’t want to push, but he also knew that sometimes, Ghost needed to be reminded that here, in this squad, things were different.

So, one evening after a particularly rough mission, Price suggested something different. “Let’s cook something proper tonight. We earned it.”

They had fresh supplies from a nearby base, and the team set up a makeshift grill near the campfire. It was a rare chance for something better than rations, and while the others jumped in, joking about who was the worst cook, Ghost stayed on the edge of the group, watching.

Price caught his eye. “C’mon, Simon. You’ve done more than enough to earn a real meal.”

Ghost hesitated, but something in Price’s tone—firm but not demanding—got through. He stepped closer, taking a spot near the grill. Price handed him a spatula without a word. It wasn’t about forcing him to cook; it was about making him a part of the process, showing him that this was something they could do together. Something they all earned.

When they finally sat down to eat, Ghost ate with them. He didn’t rush, but there was a difference—a quiet acceptance that for tonight, at least, he didn’t have to justify each bite.

---

After a few weeks of watching Ghost pick at his food or trade bites with the team, Soap came up with an idea. During one meal, he nudged Ghost with his elbow, keeping his tone light. “We should make a deal, yeah? You eat the stuff I don’t like, and I’ll eat the stuff you leave behind. Fair trade.”

Ghost’s brow furrowed behind the mask, clearly uncertain. Soap chuckled. “C’mon, it’ll be like the old days. You used to swap food in school, right?”

Ghost didn’t answer, but after a long pause, he nodded slightly. From then on, it became a kind of unspoken agreement. When Soap pushed something across the table—be it a slice of overripe fruit or some overly spiced vegetables—Ghost would accept it. And in return, Soap would take the smallest things Ghost left behind, almost imperceptibly lightening Ghost’s burden.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to show Ghost that here, among his team, he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

---

Over time, the team began to notice a shift in Ghost’s behaviour. It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first. But once they started paying attention, it was clear: Ghost wasn’t avoiding food like he used to.

Price noticed that Ghost no longer waited until everyone was done before eating. He’d start his meal with the others, still quiet, still measured, but not as distant. Soap began to see him engaging a little more during mealtimes, even if it was just a word or two. Gaz observed that Ghost didn’t push his food around as much—he ate with purpose, not as if it were a necessary evil.

There were still days when Ghost seemed to withdraw, when the past resurfaced and eating became a task to endure. But there were more days now when Ghost joined them fully—silent but present, eating like the rest of the team.

One evening, when they were all sitting around the fire after a successful mission, Soap spoke up.

“You know, Ghost,” he said carefully, “you’ve been doing better with the grub lately.”

Ghost looked up, his mask casting shadows over his face. “What do you mean?”

Soap shrugged, keeping it casual. “You don’t seem to hate it as much anymore. Thought you might be warming up to the idea of eating with us.”

For a moment, there was only the crackle of the fire between them. Then Ghost, in his quiet way, responded. “Maybe I’m just learning there’s more to it than just staying alive.”

Price exchanged a look with Gaz. They understood. It wasn’t just about food—it was about control, survival, and trust. Ghost had spent years deprived of all three, and only now, after years with the team, was he learning to reclaim those things in small ways.

---

As the years passed, the team saw Ghost’s relationship with food continue to change. He still ate with discipline, still viewed food as fuel first and foremost. But there were moments now—rare, but growing more frequent—when Ghost seemed to take something else from it. Maybe it was the comfort of routine, the warmth of sharing a meal with his team, or the small joy of a hot meal after a cold mission.

Price noticed it first—Ghost reaching for seconds after a particularly gruelling op, something he never would’ve done in the early days. Soap spotted him lingering at the table after breakfast, nursing a cup of coffee instead of rushing off. And Gaz saw the subtle relaxation in Ghost’s posture when they ate together, as if he finally trusted that the food would always be there, and that he didn’t have to fight for every bite.

One evening, after a mission that left them all exhausted and bruised, the team gathered around a campfire to eat. The food was simple—rations, barely more than sustenance—but for the first time, Ghost didn’t sit apart. He sat with them, mask raised just enough to eat, his presence a quiet acceptance of something he had denied himself for so long.

“You alright there, Ghost?” Soap asked, breaking the silence as they all dug in.

Ghost didn’t look up, but there was something softer in his voice when he replied. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And in that moment, the team knew—they’d helped Ghost find something he never knew he needed. Not just food, but the warmth of a shared meal, the comfort of trust, and the peace of knowing that, here with them, he was safe.

---

As Ghost grew more comfortable, something subtle began to change in the way he approached meals. It wasn’t immediate, but there were moments now—small but significant—where Ghost seemed to relax, to take a breath and be present with the team.

One night, after a long mission, Soap handed him a plate and added a wink. “Figured you earned an extra helping tonight, mate.”

Ghost didn’t push it away. He didn’t say anything, but he sat down with the others, mask lifted just enough to eat. He still ate slowly, methodically, but there was a shift. When Soap handed him a piece of bread, Ghost accepted it without hesitation. When Price offered to share some of his coffee, Ghost took it, a silent nod of thanks exchanged.

The team noticed, but they didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to.

---

As Ghost began to accept more from his team, he also found small ways to show the others he understood. He’d never admit it out loud, but when someone left a piece of bread uneaten or picked at their food, Ghost would quietly take it without comment, ensuring nothing went to waste. Ghost knew better than anyone how crucial that was.

One night, when Price left a few scraps on his plate, Ghost picked them up without a word and finished them. Price raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Still hungry?” Gaz asked with a teasing grin.

Ghost didn’t respond, but Price gave a small smile. He knew what Ghost was doing—it was his way of contributing, of making sure they all understood. And even if Ghost would never admit it, Price appreciated it. It was Ghost’s way of reciprocating, meeting them in the middle. Even though he would never admit to it, they knew, and that was enough.

[muppetoftheday]

guy who has only ever seen dhmis watching anything slightly spooky: getting a lot of dhmis vibes from this

[jonathanbyersphd]

Anyways, Lonnie very much abused Will and Jonathan just you know in case you forgot

[mingot-studios]

Am I the only who gets kinda triggered when Ginny, Bonney, and Kuma get portrayed as a happy loving family?

Not that I don't WANT them to be happy, but the problem I have is that it completely ignores the fact that Bonney is a RAPE BABY.

It reduces Ginny to just being a mother to Bonney, and wife to Kuma. WHile ignoring the fact that Bonney was FORCED UPON HER AGAINST HER WILL. No one wants to address the trauma that would have on Ginny because they don't want to acknowledge the grim reality of the situation in favor of they so-called "nothing-bad-happens-au". (Which is ironic, considering that Ginny HAS to be captured and RAPED in order for Bonney to exist at all)

RAPE IS NOT SOMETHING TO BE BRUSHED UNDER THE FUCKING RUG. IF YOU DO ANY AU WHERE GINNY SURVIVES YOU BETTER FUCKING ADDRESS, YOU SICK FUCKS!!

[zoobus]

Fantasizing about going no contact with my extended family, not because of abuse or anything but because they're annoying and I dislike feeling obligated to return even superficial pleasantries with them once a month

[chaotic-orphan]

Delirious Villain x Hero Caretaker, part 3:

Read part one Here

Read part two here

TW(for all parts): panic attacks, sick villain, delirious villain, sick Whump, villain hates being sick, fear of being sick, past whump, older brother whumper, PTSD, family Whump, sibling Whump, forced to vomit, graphic depictions of fever and illness and hallucinations, panicked whumpee, hero caretaker, villain doesn’t want help, graphic depictions of throwing up, sweat, heavy manipulation

I know it took me a million years to upload this part, but I finally understand the writers WIP jokes now better, so, ahaaaah… eheh… ahem, anyways.

*~*~*~*~*

They wiped their eyes on their sleeve, eyebrows knitting together as they settled down again, lying on Villain’s shoulder, tucked up next to them cozy.

“Villain?”

“Yeah Hero?”

“The… your brother beating you… it doesn’t explain why you hate being sick,” Hero said. Villain laughed a little and Hero felt the vibrations on their cheek.

“Right, yeah. After a while, when we were older… I think I was thirteen, he was sixteen. We all got a takeaway from the local Chinese place. We were eating it at the dinner table, and it was all fine and good. Then after Brother told me to come with him. I remember I didn’t want to at first, but my mum insisted I do, so I did.”

“He walked up the stairs to the bathroom and when I got in he locked the door.”

“Did you enjoy your food?” Brother asked, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the door. The years had only made him taller, more handsome and broad. High school had turned him into an idol around town and everyone knew his name.

“Yeah, I did,” said Villain. “It was nice. Did you enjoy yours?”

“Yeah, I did,” said Brother, black eyes locked on Villain’s. His mouth twisted up into a pondering pout. “But I mean, I’m allowed enjoy unhealthy food because I work out a lot. You don’t.”

“I do,” Villain protested. “I work out everyday after school, and I’ve been eating well, the diet you gave me I’ve been doing it all to the letter, Brother, I swear.”

“Okay, so if I check your school bag downstairs I won’t find chocolate bar wrappers will I?”

Villain froze at the question. Brother pushed off the door, looming over Villain, backing them up until Villain’s legs hit the side of the bath and they sat on the edge of it, shrinking down small, but Brother kept crowding them.

“That’s what I thought. It doesn’t matter how much you work out or what diet you follow if you’re still going to eat junk food. You are what you eat, Villain. People who eat takeaway and junk food get fat. Do you want to be fat?”

“No, no, I don’t Brother. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I pro—“

Brother’s hand shot out, wrapping around Villain’s throat and hurtling them back against the wall of the bath, their legs flying up as they fell.

“I am so sick of you and your fucking promises, Villain. They mean nothing. You know why? Because you are nothing. Yet you keep trying to worm your way out of the consequences. My patience is running thin.”

Brother squeezed Villain’s throat harder and Villain gasped and flailed, trying to escape to get air to breathe. Brother was stronger than them though, and held them there a moment longer before letting up and walking to the bathroom sink with a long, drawn out sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Villain gasped, hand’s going to their throat. “I’m sorry, Brother.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Brother said, gripping the sides of the sink and staring into the mirror. “I have tried with you, Villain. I have tried so hard to make you better. To make you perfect, likeable, loveable, anything more than this pathetic thing you are, but you make it so hard! Why can’t you just be better? Fucking god fucking damn it!”

Brother turned to face Villain in the bath, walked over to them and grabbed them by the collar of the shirt yanking them out. The motion was too quick for Villain to register, they couldn’t get their legs under them in time. Villain’s legs folded against the edge of the bath as Brother dragged them out, their knees hitting the bathroom floor with a heavy thud.

“Even your body knows where it belongs,” Brother hissed. “So why don’t you?!”

Brother dragged them to the toilet and flipped up the seat, dragging a struggling Villain to it. “No! Get off me! Mum! Dad! AGH—“

Brother laced his fingers through Villain’s hair and slammed his head against the toilet bowl. Villain bit his tongue with the impact, the taste of iron flooding his mouth and nose as his body was becoming more loose and struggles ceasing slightly.

“Look what you make me do! Just obey! Obey and all this will be easier on you, Villain. I’m doing this to help you! To make you better. Stronger, and you fight me the entire way!”

Brother let go of Villain’s hair and left them kneeling in front of the toilet. Villain spat some of the blood into the bowl in protest.

“What do you expect me to do?” Villain asked, the fight gone out of them. They just wanted this beating to be over with as soon as possible. They wanted to sleep.

“You’re going to throw up your dinner.”

Villain turned their head to Brother, eyes narrowing into a glare. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

Villain put two hands on either side of the toilet bowl and stood up. Brother grinned, though his eyes betrayed the emptiness of it. The malice behind their smile. The sick twisted enjoyment of Villain being defiant.

“Getting brave now, are we?” Brother hummed, head tilting as they regarded Villain. Fists balled by their sides and that hatred fuelled glare told Brother he was in for a fight. Good. “You’re throwing up your dinner tonight, Villain. The choice is whether you want to do it, or I do it. Either way you’re not getting out of here until you do.”

“Hope you’re ready for the long haul then,” said Villain and they struck first. Brother hummed as Villain’s fist connected with their jaw.

“Maybe you have been working out,” said Brother, and he swung his fist. Villain ducked under Brother’s arm and used his momentum to shove him forward. Villain didn’t wait to see if he fell or how far, he turned to the door, unlocked it and bolted out of it and down the stairs.

Brother’s footsteps followed close behind, haunting Villain as they desperately ran to the front door, unlocking it and yanking it open. A hand slammed it shut above their head and Villain yanked at it with all their strength but it barely budged open again before clicking shut.

“Kids!” Dad said from the kitchen and Villain ran to them. To help them, save them. Brother yanked on the hood of Villain’s jumper, choking them but Villain scrambled out of the stupid jumper and kept running, fixing their t-shirt as they ran into the kitchen.

“Why are you two—“

“Brother has been beating me,” Villain all but screamed. He panted as his lungs tried to catch up with him, swallowing air like it was free pizza at the arcade. “He’s been beating me, all the time. That’s how I get the bruises. That’s how I get the cuts,” Villain said, showing them his patchwork arms that he hid beneath his hoodies and long sleeves.

Well not anymore. No more hiding. Screw that. Screw protecting their psycho older Brother.

Brother walked slowly into the room, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, Villain’s jumper in his fist. Black eyes watching Villain as they spoke. Completely unfazed.

“That’s why I’m wearing jumpers in July. That’s why I haven’t worn shorts all year. He has been beating me, cutting me, hurting me— and neither of you ever lifted a finger. Ever noticed how much he was hurting me, but you know now, so please… please…” Villain begged, tears flooding his eyes and streaming fat and fast down his face. “He told me I have to throw up the Chinese we just ate. He locked me in the bathroom with him and told me either I did it or he would make me. Make me throw up.”

The more Villain spoke, the louder the silence became as their parents looked both shocked and horrified at what Villain was telling them, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Please,” Villain sniffed. “Please say something. Tell him to fuck off. To stop hurting me please. I can’t live like this, I can’t.”

“Oh sweetheart, come here,” said Mum and Villain ran straight into her arms. She wrapped him in the warmest, tightest hug he had ever had and shushed him as he cried. Running gentle fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. We’ll sort this out, okay?”

Villain nodded against her shoulder.

“You want to explain what Villain just said, Brother?” Dad asked and Villain felt warmth flood through their chest as they realised that mum and dad believed them. They actually believed them, despite what Brother had told them all this time.

Brother let out a sigh. Villain turned to face him, stepping out of their mum’s arms and slightly in front of her. Inky black eyes followed Villain’s movements and settled on their face as they spoke.

“Villain is out of control,” said Brother, voice calm. “Ever since we were kids he has been picking fights with kids for no good reason, so I’ve been trying to help him out since he came into secondary school. He doesn’t… he just doesn’t listen. Everyone else, listens! He just again and again refuses my help.”

“Your help is making sure I can’t wear proper clothes anymore you dick!” Villain yelled, a hand on their shoulder calmed them as their mum shushed them.

“See what I mean?” Brother said, gesturing at Villain. “They have these outbursts all the time! I tried to reason with them for years, and I’ve just grown impatient. The only thing that Villain responds to is violence. It hurts me as much as it hurts them, but it’s just a fact.”

“That doesn’t give you a right to hurt them,” said Dad and Brother shook their head with a scoff.

“It does. Do you know how hard it is to be perfect? I have worked my arse off trying to make you both proud of me. Trying to be the best, I just want to help people, you know this. I want to be good, and join the Hero program. I want to make the world a better place.”

“That still doesn’t explain cutting and punching your brother, Brother,” Dad scolded, glancing back at Villain’s arms. “You have left them with scars!”

“That was the last resort, Dad! That was after they got into another fight at school with a teacher no less.”

“What fight?” Mum asked and Villain stiffened under her comforting hand.

Brother sighed again, more dramatically this time and ran his hand down his face, before finally stepping into the kitchen. Villain took an instinctive step back, their back hitting Mum. Brother didn’t even smile like they usually would at Villain’s fear. It sent a shiver up Villain’s spine.

“I think you should sit down,” said Brother, tone somber and heavy. He pulled a chair out for himself and sat down. Mum and Dad shared a look then did the same. All in their usual places. Mum and dad sitting across from each other. Brother and Villain sitting across from each other.

Brother threw Villain’s hoodie onto the table and Villain took it back hesitantly, before throwing it back on.

Hiding.

Again.

It felt like one nail in their coffin.

“Ever since we were kids,” Brother began, looking at Villain. “I have been protecting Villain from getting into trouble as much as I could. Which means, if he got into a fight with another kid I would smooth talk the other kid until I knew they wouldn’t tell a teacher or their parents or anything.”

“Why?” Dad asked.

“Because…” Brother said, throwing his hands up in a useless gesture. “I had built this pristine reputation. Everyone liked me. Everyone wanted to be friends with me, and then Villain comes along and gets into fights left and right, I didn’t want people to think bad of us. Or for either of you to be troubled by Villain’s fighting.”

“Is this true, Villain?” Mum asked, and Villain’s heart sunk to the bottom of their stomach.

Villain swallowed helpless, looking from Mum to Dad to Brother. “I— yes, but I wasn’t fighting for bad reasons! I promise!”

“How many fights did you get into?” Dad asked and Villain was quiet. “How many fights a week, then, Villain?”

“I—“ Villain said with a sigh, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t keep count.”

“There was that many?” Mum asked and Villain shrunk in their seat.

“There was about three fights a week,” said Brother, and Villain glared at him.

“No way there was three!”

“You just said you didn’t keep count,” said Brother matter of factly.

Villain turned to their parents and said: “I wasn’t fighting just to fight. I was fighting like how Brother fought. For people being bullied by other people. And sometimes even for brother—“

“Punching a bully only makes you a bully, Villain,” said Dad, shaking his head.

“Say that to the people being bullied! I was a bully, but I was a bully of bullies!” Villain protested. “The bullies were afraid of me, so they left other people alone.”

“There’s no need to raise your voice, Villain,” Dad chastised and Villain bowed their head and said: “sorry.”

Dad turned back to Brother then. “And Brother, you didn’t need to take this on board for us. You should have let those kids call home so we would know what is going on with Villain as it happens. We are the parents, not you.”

Brother had the audacity to look humbled by the reprimanding. “I’m sorry dad. I just thought… I’m Villain’s big brother. It’s my job to protect them. To help them. To guide them through the troubles of High school and now that they’re older they can’t think fighting solves everything. Especially not fighting with teachers.”

When Dad turned to face Villain again, and Mum was looking at Villain too, Villain saw the way Brother’s repentance morphed into a twisted grin. As if they already knew that they had won Mum and Dad over.

“What was the fight with your teacher about, sweetheart?” Mum asked gently.

Villain frowned, foreboding settling on their chest like a breezeblock, as they realised, it didn’t matter what they said. Somehow brother would twist the story and make themselves look good. They needed to be convincing and tell the truth.

“They said that Heroes were stupid, that they ruined our city and brought all the psychos and Villains into the spotlight, said we were wasting our taxes on them when they destroy our buildings and roads with their fighting.”

Even retelling the words that stupid teacher used made Villain’s hands curl into fists by their sides, how dare they say such a thing. Bet they wouldn’t be so cocky if a Villain was holding them hostage and a Hero saved them.

“And what did you do?” Dad asked.

Villain raised their head, chin jutting in the air and said: “I told him that it was very rude of him not to appreciate how hard the Heroes work to keep us all safe. Then he got mad at me and—“

Brother snorted from across the table. All heads turned to face him. Brother had the audacity to look innocent, but their eyes held that same knowing stare, twinkling with confidence that they could win their parents to his side.

“That’s not what I heard happened,” said Brother and Villain nearly lunged for him, but with the table in the way they wouldn’t be able to reach over and punch him. “I heard you called the teacher an idiot and caused a riot in your class over Heroes and Villains and where teachers fit into the spectrum.”

“That’s a lie,” Villain hissed, slamming their hands on the table. Brother beamed at that.

“See? Villain has issues, anger issues! They can’t even handle me telling the other side of the story.”

“The other side of a story you made up in your head, Brother! You’re lying!”

Brother sat back in their chair, smug, and scoffed. Folding their arms across their chest they said, “fine. All Mum and Dad have to do is call the teacher and they’ll tell them what really happened.”

“And?” Hero asked, voice gentle and soft and safe.

Villain hummed, a wry smile on their lips. “They went to fact check Brother’s story.”

“And what happened?”

“In the time it took them to make the call, Brother had me upstairs, wheezing, winded and over the toilet, spidery fingers down my throat.”

“Christ, Villain!”

“I know,” Villain said with a small laugh. “I guess the fear started there… and Brother… they knew how much it got under my skin, more so than the cuts and bruises, so he kept doing it. In school, out of school, on the way home. He was relentless.”

“And where is he now? Brother, I mean.”

“He was here earlier but I think he’s gone now, I think, shit, I must have been hallucinating or something,” Villain said, eyes widening slightly.

“Let’s just hope you start feeling better tomorrow, Vil.”

“I better. I’m looking forward to your chicken soup,” Villain hummed and Hero laughed.

“You just spent the last twenty four hours throwing up and all you can think about is food?”

“I’m a simple person, Hero, and your soup is like a miracle cure.”

“You’re putting a lot of hope in this soup,” said Hero and Villain laughed, cuddling closer to Hero.

“No, I’m not. I just— Hero… thank you for everything today.”

“You’ve done it for me before,” said Hero, “remember the food poisoning incident? That was not pretty.”

“Just take the compliment, crime fighter,” Villain murmured sleepily. Hero just smiled and kissed Villain’s head and said: “okay, Vil. I’ll take the compliment. Go to sleep.”

Villain’s soft, even breaths was Hero’s answer, and they smiled, and closed their eyes as well. Holding Villain closer than they ever have before.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[s0ull3ss-p3rs0n]

Arin putting bandages on Jordana's arms after she relapsed and then hugging her :(((((

[moopbox]

do u ever feel alive but not...

like ur body is alright n stuff but ur mind...isn't... I don't FEEL alive... its like I'm distant from me... I'm not here... I can feel my limbs I can feel the blood going through me I can feel everything that I've ever hurt.. I can breathe...I can see.. i can write these words down....but I'm just not. just not here my head is fuzzy,parts of me hurt..idk..

more in tags...

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I'm glad to report that even my religious dreams are just weird. I had this dream where I had to be in a crowded church for services (why a religious jew is in a church is beyond me. I brought my chanukiah. There were many others who brought theirs and it made me Wonder if they were jewish (I was fully jewish in the dream)), but it was in an attic, and my dad found me, and I was very Visibly Jewish so I was talking to him about how weird it all was, and he got so offended at what I said that I was basically compelled to leave. And then I legit ran away and became a Dead Body. I was so ashamed to not think the song "our g-d is an awesome g-d" was the best thing ever to the point I died 😭😭😭

[vilecemetery]

you might not think it’s hard to be a soc fan artist on tumblr, but let me tell you about the time I called someone out for drawing inej with light skin, so they blocked me and then wrote a long post about me that I couldn’t see, along with colour samples taken from my art as examples of how inej is “too dark” in them, and then they end the post with “I’m disappointed in you” 💀

[merakiui]

epel would have a massive breeding kink - he keeps talking about wanting a big family and how he wants to fill you up really good, so you, him, and your many children can continue to harvest the apples.

OH OH OH!!!! And the elders come together to knit maternity wear for you!!! >0< aaaaa everyone is really so sweet to you. And there's so much domestic bliss in the Felmier household (it's gotten even more cramped and noisy with the growing family)! Epel's Meemaw loves to teach you how to knit and bake, the two of you sitting side by side in front of the fireplace while she guides you through the motions of knitting a baby blanket or showing you recipes in the family cookbook.

Everyone's so proud of Epel for building such a nice, happy family. You rarely see little ones running around town, so it's a nice change of pace. All of the townsfolk help out if there's ever too much for you and Epel to handle. Sometimes they act as babysitters, other times they keep your children entertained if you and Epel decide to get up to...private endeavors or take a much-needed vacation in the next city over. You're almost always pregnant, too. He knocks you up so good each time. His Meemaw tends to scold him for being so impatiently foolhardy, always telling him to "give the poor sweetheart a rest." And Epel does; he knows how taxing pregnancy can be, but you're just so good at being pregnant. He means that in the sweetest, proudest way possible, mind you!

Epel loves walking through the orchards with you, occasionally reaching up to pluck a few apples from the low-hanging boughs for you and the kids. He's so happy to have you in his life and even happier to know you're here to stay. <3 forever and always.