#tw: parental neglect (kinda)

[chaos-bringer-13]

Jazz's little. Her parents are super cool. They're ghost hunters! It sounds like something from a movie about future and scientists and supernatural beings and cool-looking tech. They have cool-looking tech at home. It's even cooler than tech in the movies.

Jazz also has a little brother. He's stupid but he's hers, and she will protect him from anything. Her brother is very small, he needs someone to protect him and teach him about the world.

She knows about the world. She understands their parents much better than him, and she can tell her brother when they shouldn't be distracted. She knows when they're upset and irritable, and she knows when they're too excited and being near them is dangerous because of all the inventions.

Jazz does a very good job keeping her little brother safe.

---

Jazz goes to school. Her teachers say that she's very smart, the best student in class, and very mature. Her parents are proud of her - when she manages to distract them from ghosts. Her brother is still kinda stupid and doesn't know how to properly fight food, but she's always there to protect him, because that's what older sisters do.

Her classmates seem to think that she's weird though. Some of them say mean things and call her a teacher's pet and a show-off. Jazz isn't sure why they think so because she's always trying to be friendly but maybe she's doing something wrong. She goes to the school library and finds a book about people and their communication.

It's a very interesting book.

---

Jazz is almost a teen. She's gotten better at communicating with people. The school library ran out of psychology books, and Jazz now has to go to the city library but that's fine. Human brain fascinates her.

She's been feeling like something is wrong about her though. She even thought that she was going crazy for a little bit. That probably wasn't true because she didn't match any symptoms but she was still worried.

Someone told her that being so good at lying and faking face expressions is not okay. That's probably not true, Jazz is pretty sure almost everyone can do that. Or maybe she's just being a prodigy again. It's a very good thing to be able to do after all. She can hide her emotions from her family when she's feeling sad. She wouldn't want to worry them, would she?

She'll have to research it.

---

Jazz is a teen. She now knows that her parents aren't actually that good. It's something that was really hard to accept but it did explain everything. Her parents are kinda bad at being parents, and they also don't really listen when she tries to explain it to them.

It's okay. She's almost an adult and Danny has her. She can take care of herself and her brother.

She learns everything she can about being a parent and a therapist and tries to use her knowledge. It's hard, but she's a Fenton, which means that she's very smart and determined. She pushes through, and trains on her classmates and herself.

In the evening she writes about her feelings in a journal. It's very important to be aware of her feelings because that's the first step to dealing with them.

She's experiencing sadness. And anger, actually, even though she doesn't like to admit that.

She writes "this family is a fucking mess" in her journal and then covers the paper with ink until the sentence is absolutely unreadable.

---

Jazz is sixteen, and her stupid parents opened the stupid portal, which means that they're even worse than usual. It's pretty much okay when they're just stuck in their stupid lab, making some stupid weapons. It's not that okay when they're out of the stupid lab, because they get their stupid inventions all over the stupid house, and stupid food comes to life, and she has to protect Danny from both their stupid weapons and stupid hotdogs, and oh god everything is so stupid.

She's experiencing anger.

She's also acting perfectly calm and almost cheerfully.

Jazz hates how perfect her fake smile is in the mirror.

---

Jazz is seventeen. She wants to put her headphones on and listen to some loud music. Jazz can't do that, because she gets anxious if she can't hear what's happening around her. She needs to be fully aware of her surroundings because she needs to be able to protect herself and her brother if weapons against ghosts become weapons against children again.

She thinks that it's not okay.

The house smells of ectoplasm, so she'll be extra careful when opening the fridge.

She thinks that she shouldn't know how ectoplasm smells.

Jazz should probably also warn Danny: her little brother's gotten better at fighting food but doesn't notice the smell of ectoplasm. Funny, considering his ghost sense.

Funny, considering that her brother is a half-ghost.

That her brother died.

That she failed at protecting him after all.

Jazz stops breathing to prevent herself from crying, and doesn't need oxygen for a few minutes too long.

Maybe she failed at protecting herself too.

---

Jazz is turning eighteen next month. Her parents are all of a sudden more attentive and caring, as if that can change their almost-absence during her whole life. She doesn't like their attention because she doesn't know how to deal with it. She doesn't even really think of them as parents anymore.

She thinks of them as a threat.

Once she's eighteen, she's gonna try to move out, and she's going to take Danny with her because it's not safe to leave him here. Maybe after she gets a good job and saves some money, she'll even get into therapy.

Jazz thinks that she needs therapy.

She's been having Bad Thoughts lately, and she doesn't write them down in her journal. Jazz stopped writing anything in there ever since she found out that Danny is a ghost. She just couldn't risk anyone finding that journal.

Jazz isn't sure if she should call those Bad Thoughts intrusive. They scare her, and they're Bad, but it could be just her normal thought process.

It's still definitely not normal.

---

Jazz is eighteen. Her parents are very excited, whispering to each other about how they found a perfect present for her, some surprise that she's gonna love.

She doesn't care.

Her little brother is late from school, and it's weird, because he was also super excited about giving her his present.

She's worried.

Her parents brush off her concern, say that Danny probably just got distracted talking with his friends. They don't listen when she says that Danny wouldn't get distracted like that on her birthday because he's not them, he actually cares about her, he doesn't forget her birthdays, and something has to be wrong for him to be that late.

They don't listen to her at all.

She's angry.

Her parents are excited and talk loudly about how they wanted to find a perfect gift for their favourite daughter, and how they managed to do it because they love her so much. She hates when they're excited. It only leads to problems.

They bring her to the lab because of course they do, why would they make a gift that is normal and isn't kept in the lab, right? They usher her in, so obviously proud of themselves.

She hates them.

And she hates them much, much more the next second, because the gift is her little brother in his ghost form, strapped to a table, unconscious and injured, and the smell of ectoplasm is strong in the lab because of his green blood dripping on the floor.

There's a cold part of her that analyses her feelings and tells her what emotions she's experiencing, and that part is very aware of thick black smoke of wrath twirling and twisting under her skin. It's suffocating, and she stops breathing as it invisibly fills her lungs, scared of letting it out.

There's a perfectly fake part of her that keeps the smile on her face as her parents gush about how hard it was to catch the ecto-scum, and what they can do to it - together with Jazz because they wanted to share this with their amazing daughter.

Jazz is black smoke of rage under perfect glass of calmness when she grabs Fenton anti-creep stick. The smile she learned to fake under any circumstances doesn't falter when Jazz brings the baseball bat down on her father's head. It grows a little bit wider when she hits her mother, because Jazz learned to smile brighter when she's hurt or sad or scared or angry - experiencing any "bad" emotion actually.

Jazz is angry when she grabs her weapon.

Jazz is furious when she kills her parents.

Jazz is worried when she checks her brother's wounds.

Jazz feels nothing when she rigs the portal to blow, walks out of the house and presses the button.

She is her parents' genius daughter after all, and she did listen when they were telling her about their inventions. Maybe it would have taken longer to do, but she had Bad Thoughts, and they probably weren't just intrusive after all, because she did what they told her and made it very easy to make a bomb out of a portal. Just in case. Her parents were a threat, and Jazz was smart enough to prepare to dealing with threats, and she was smart enough to make it look like the threats dealt with themselves.

She really hoped she wouldn't have to use that button though.

---

Jazz is nineteen. Her sort-of-friends at uni offer to go to a restaurant, and she tells them that she doesn't celebrate her birthdays. There's a noise of all of them saying that maybe she should try, noise that she really should have expected, because humans are always so excited about any holidays, it's hard for them to understand that someone might not like them. It's not hard to stop that noise though. They shut up very quickly when Jazz says that she had "a very traumatic event" on her birthday.

Good. She doesn't like loud people.

Jazz goes home to her little brother. He's sad because his parents died in an awful explosion a year ago. He's still trying to smile because it's also her birthday, and Jazz is very happy that he's bad at faking a smile.

It means that he won't end up like her.

Jazz hugs her little brother, and he gives her a little present that she adores, and then they sit in silence and eat some takeout. It's very nice.

She never tells Danny that their parents died before the explosion, and that the explosion wasn't an accident, and that their ghosts did form after that because of all the ecto-contamination they had, but she made sure this wouldn't become a problem. She never tells him what she's done, because that would hurt her little brother, and she would never let anything hurt him.

Jazz will protect her little brother from anything.

[cringelordofchaos]

this is a richard and mrs tweak hate post. sick and tired of them. sick and tired of them never helping tweek with anything. sick and tired of them never paying attention to how hes genuinely feeling. sick and tired of richard asking him how hes feeling, and when tweek is OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE he just pretends he is and moves on. sick and tired of them caring more about his impact on the coffee shop business rather than his needs. sick and tired of them being downright nelgectful regarding his emotions and needs. sick and tired of mrs tweak just standing by her husband not doing anything about the trauma theyre imposing onto their child. sick and tired of them giving him coffee when they notice he's anxious, only worsening it. sick and tired of them giving a ten year old coffee in the first place. sick and tired of them using him to test their coffee for the business. sick and tired of them giving METH-LACED COFFEE TO A TEN YEAR OLD. sick and tired of them fucking drugging their child. sick and tired from them slowly killing their child and seemingly not caring. sick and tired of them acting so disturbingly calm all the time. sick and tired of them.

[inkdemon-whore]

bit of a continuation of this post, this art, and maybe also this art, bendy, having made hundreds, if not thousands of different versions of audrey to try and appease joey and set itself free, grew attached to a select few over the time he's made and re-made her.

the one drawn in the bendy basically being a dad image, is his most favorite. he doesn't name her, or any of the others, so anytime he talks about her, he just says "My Favorite." and thanks to some of my own ideas, and this lovely lil comment uwu

his "favorite" might have given him, at least a bit of a change of heart, just for a while at least.

(this is a bit long and slightly fan-fic-y, so i'll put it under keep reading)

(also look at the tags they got tw's, that's kinda important)

when ripping parts of himself to make audrey, he digs out pieces of himself. pieces that seem insignificant to him now, but when isolated, might act out in ways he couldn't expect. there may have been versions of audrey that where horrible monsters, killing things just like him, or little ones full of rage, envy, sorrow, or loneliness.

with him having so much of those emotions to go around, having those parts of him torn off, he isn't too surprised, and it doesn't really phase him.

but at some point, he dug a little deeper, just in the right spot, to pull out something that all those negative emotions buried.

now, i also hc that at this point, the ink demon was/is mostly an abusive parent. being rather neglectful, and only starting to care a little, at least for the audrey's appearance, in the hopes that so long as she looked human, he could be freed. he would call all of them names, and say "you'll likely die" whenever it was time for them to meet joey, and he was always right, so he never bothered. he'd push his own creations away, because of his own trauma.

but this one. this one he calls his "favorite". at some point started to realize that, despite the ink demon saying mean things to her, he was rather kind, and didn't hurt her. despite him killing and eating people, around her, he was rather protective, maybe a little too protective. even if he would threaten her life, or get close to eating her, she wouldn't seem scared. (it could also be that she just freezes, or dissociates due to abuse)

he could call her a hideous, ugly wretch, that no one would ever truly love, while still having cleaned her, and tried to make her look pretty, and she would pick up on that. "you don't rrreeeaaallly think i'm ugly, do you? you spend all this time fixing my dress and my hair. if you really think i'm ugly, maybe it's because you're not very good at making pretty things."

a majority of the time, the ink demon would be straight up with her, saying "i eat people, because i enjoy tormenting them. ripping them apart limb from limb, and hearing them scream, and cry, and beg." and anytime he even seemed like he was lying, mostly in contradictions between his words and actions, she'd ask him about it, and he wouldn't really have an answer for her. and not having an answer made him feel vulnerable.

sooner or later, he slowly becomes more kind to her, taking her to heavenly toys, or bendy land, just spending time with her, if at a distance and seeming detached or aloof. still insulting her and being a bit abusive, but not physically hurting her all that much. he even brings her supplies to draw, and watches her on occasion. he starts extending his time with her, enjoying her company, occasionally wondering if he should play "the end" reel on himself, simply to spend even more time with her.

but her time is coming to and end, and joey is getting impatient. once it's time for her to go, he's finally nicer with his words, if not still blunt and distant. she ask him if joey will like her, and he coldly says no. she ask if he can come with her, and once again he says no. she ask if all those horrible things he said about joey where true, he says yes. she's squeezing a bendy doll he gave her, holding back tears, "is he... really going to kill me if i'm not perfect?"

... something in him finally clicks, and for once, he honestly, genuinely tries to reassure her. that she doesn't have to be "perfect". she doesn't have to be "born right" to be beautiful, or deserving of love. that what imperfections she has means something to him, and make her who she is. and for a moment, he doesn't want her to go.

but she goes...

and she's gone...

she's dead...

like the rest of them...

and he regrets not being kinder to her...

and he hates himself for not having more time with her...

and he eats her, like he'd done the rest, dug around, hoping to get that little piece of him back once more, to see it just for a moment, but could never find it, and could never rebuild it again...

just more sad, angry, or detached audrey's, that sure, began to look more human, began to be more human, but slowly became more and more of a blank slate. more of a marry sue even, but it took a lot out of him (pun intended) to just get that.

audrey may be perfect... but she is not his Favorite.

[outoftheirdifferences]

Open starter (that I meant to write on the day itself but ran out of time!) Feel free to come interact with Lauren!

Christmas day was... never a time when she wanted to be around home.

It wasn't that anything bad happened around home. Rather, it was what didn't happen, what never happened. Sure, there were presents, there were a few of the trappings of the holiday season.

There was never the love there. She and her dad both knew that he was just going through the motions to appease her; he'd never wanted a kid and even so many years later didn't know what to do with the one that had been thrust on him. He was eternally distant, and she'd long ago learned better than to try and change that.

And that was the reason she couldn't stand to be at home. Not on a day like this.

The park, though... it may not have been much, but that, at least, was always here for her. The one haven of nature in the oppressive grey landscape of the city, the place where she'd first met her best friend, and the one place she genuinely loved. Her sneakers scuffed through the light layer of snow that had made it through the city's protective dome, and she relished the fresh breeze even as its chill drove her to pull her very worn hoodie tighter around her.

Maybe later she'd text one of her (very small number of) friends and see if any of them were free to hang out for an hour or so. But for now, this was the only place she wanted to be.

Up ahead, she thought she could see someone moving her way. The park was quieter than normal, but not deserted even on Christmas. Dog walkers in particular still passed to and fro, occasionally wishing her a Merry Christmas in passing that she could only accept with forced cheer; and she prepared herself to do so once more if this next passer-by should speak as well.

[lilac-read]

Flat Stanley is a weird book.

First off, Stanley is dead. He's literally just dead. Buddy got crushed in his sleep by a bulletin board. He is legit described as being half an inch thick. Mans is DEAD.

Secondly, THERES JUST SUBTLE POLICE COMMENTARY???? Mrs. Lambchop gets called cuckoo by the police, but when they realize that she wasn't lying about her son being at the bottom of a storm drain, she tells them to think before they speak, and they're just like, "hey! Yeah! We should start doing that" Am I reading too much into this, or is that just a genuine commentary???

Third, WHO JUST MAILS THEIR CHILD???? WHAT IS THIS? A CLICKBAIT YOUTUBE FAMILY CHANNEL VIDEO FROM 2016??? THAT'S HORRIBLY IRRESPONSIBLE!!!!

Fourth, why is no one in the story addressing how hard this has made things for Arthur? Arthur is jealous because his brother is flat, but like, he's a child! Arthur is trying his best here. Don't be a jerk to Arthur because he wants to be cool and have friends.

And another thing, Mr. Lambchop is a horrible husband. Mrs. Lambchop tells him that she's having a hard time with the boys, and that he has no idea because he's always at work, and he just DISMISSES HER FEELINGS! HE BASICALLY SAYS THAT BOYS WILL BE BOYS AND CALLS IT A NIGHT!

The whole museum plot came out of left field and didn't really make much sense tbh. Why is this child being used to catch most-likely dangerous art thieves? Like, I get that it was his idea, but DONT LET THE CHILD BE STOLEN TO CATCH THESE THIEVES!!!! THIS WHOLE BOOK IS CHILD ABUSE!!!! ALSO, THIS WOULD NEVER WORK! NO CHILD WOULD BE ABLE TO SIT STILL FOR THAT LONG WITHOUT MOVING HIS EYES AROUND OR BLINKING!!!

These are the least responseable parents ever. 'lets let our child stand on spikes all night in a museum that's been getting robbed lately' OH YEAH, GREAT IDEA, FANTASTIC PARENTING LAMBCHOPS!!!

Also, the noses in the pictures are weird, what's up with that? Like, get it I guess but they're just not a very aesthetic choice.

BUT ANYWAYS, THE FACT THAT THE THIEVES LITERALLY SAID THAY THEY WOULD KILL A PERSON IF THEY TRIED TO CATCH THEM!! WHAT THE HECK!!!!!

I feel like when my elementary school was into Flat Stanley, we kinda missed the anti-bullying point. We literally started calling one kid Flat Stanley lol. Also, Mrs. Lambchop spitting facts, don't make fun of people based on religion, race, or body shape.

Arthur is such a good brother, and I feel like he doesn't get enough credit. He's so supportive of Stanley, and I feel like nobody ever mentions Arthur Lambchop. I didn't even remember him until I read the book again. He really tries so hard to help Stanley get back to normal. But being on the internet for so long has made that scene unreadable (my brain hurts)

I feel like Stanley going back to normal isn't a great ending though. It just kind of invalidates everything that just happened in the book. The whole point is gone.

And one last thing. We need to address why the bulletin board fell on him in the first place. His parents are just the worst.

thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[thebekashow]

beka lore-

[italic-doing-random-shit]

It's even harder when you have two completely different households with completely different views on their child.

For example, I refuse to open up to my dad about my art, theater, orchestra, and any other art form I've indulged in because after I showed a bit of interest in soccer, now that's all he wants me to do when I'm over at his house.

He talks about politics and how 'people voted for the wrong person' and how if I vote for X, I'm throwing away my rights as a queer person when he barely cares for trans children and adults who are constantly hurt and discriminated against.

He warns me so much about pedophiles, creepy men, and kidnappers, then he wonders why I don't dare step outside.

He wonders where my social anxiety and social blindness comes from when he ignores that I have ADHD since I've found my special interest and when he literally left me all on my own for a day or two at a time when I was younger.

It doesn't help he literally said, out of nowhere 'Promise me you won't commit suicide.' at this point in my life, it's getting really damn hard, but no, I won't.

He makes me question if he cares when it's not about sports or learning how to shoot a gun.

Sir, I am fucking 14. Fuck off about politics and creeps. Fuck off about my mental issues that you barely care to dive into. Fuck off about my athletic ability.

Fuck off.

consider: teenagers aren’t apathetic about everything they��re just used to you shitting all over whatever they show excitement about

[wendig0re]

never thought I'd gatekeep a character but scaramouche is literally me so whenever I see people completely misunderstand him I just die

[killmenowplaese]

My parents— we didnt know you were hurting you have to tell us these things

Me— I literally did nothing to fucking hide it I was isolating myself all day complaining abt not eating but then refusing food and so much more my cvts were even visible at times and you didn’t do shit until you blatantly found my shit in a fucking bag like the pussies you are

[obsessive-valentine]

Forever and Always

Platonic Vampire Family + Fem!Reader

No real TW's in this one- just sick reader and reader not believing in stranger danger lol. Also !not proof read!

Based circa 1800’s, reader has caught the attention of a vampire who’s maternal instincts have been neglected after a tragic life as a living woman and empty one as a the living dead still without the daughter she longed for.

Readers age isn't specified -though implied her childhood has passed and is anywhere from adolescence even up to young adult, tried to keep it broad (but she does come across as naive and childish.) Wrote this bc mommy issues. I think it's getting a bit lengthy so I split this into 2 parts, I'll be slowly adding to part 2 and maybe be out soon if you guys like this kinda thing.

...

It's a small town, nestled in a valley and surrounded by forests of barren trees striped bare by the harsh winter. The clouds consistently created a grey overcast. It's cold all year around and wasn't uncommon to see people tip-toeing around the icy patches on the cobblestone streets.

Smoke from the small and squished townhouses further added to the murkiness in the air, mixing with the fog, but at least it added a sense of warmth when the winds blew it towards you. It never lasted long though before the cold begins to nip at your exposed nose and ears.

It was easy to feel like you were the only one who lived in this town. The streets are eerily quiet in the mornings when you'd walk in silence with your father to his shop in town. Even when you'd get into the town square, where most people could be found if they weren't working or at school, they are all on a mission and far too cold to stop and talk. The bitter winter seemed to seep into their blood as they pushed past each other, their footsteps rushed and faces buried in their coats. Then it was the same in the evenings when you'd walk back with your father, the streets quiet and cold, your father even more so. A thick fog would roll in, and lamp lighters would be up on ladders lighting the street lights, providing some comfort but not much to the wandering mind of a young girl.

See, Father wasn't a particularly bad parent, he comes off as detached and cold only because he's so busy. Emotionally neglectful? sure. But you are one of many siblings, he has to neglect you emotionally so that he can properly focus on caring for you physically. At least that's what mother always says. She's not much better though. You wonder why they had kids if they seem so apathetic and busy all the time, it obviously doesn't bring them much joy. Had they once loved each other and were excited to raise a family? Why did it change? You don't know nor never would, they don't appreciate talking about heavy topics.

...

You were excited to help father in his shop when he proposed it to mother "I can take the girl with me if she doesn't cause trouble. And the boy will be off with his older brother in school come next month. You continue teaching the older two girls their duties" He was trying to relieve pressure from mother, as she had to do house chores and teach your sisters the duties and tasks such as weaving and sewing. It was reluctant, he didn't believe in wasting money and sending you -just a girl- to school, but this argument kept rising up and he supposed he could use some help in the shop.

You thought this was an opportunity to get close to your father but he still didn't have the time to nurture you, you couldn't help but feel disappointed and even abandoned but never would resent your father due to childish innocence you still had yet to grow out of. You clung to any praise he gave you or any time he'd nurture to your necessitates, like buying you gloves on the walk to work when you wouldn't stop rubbing your hands for warmth.

...

The first time you had seen the woman, who would change your life, it was like any other. You had survived the walk to your father's store, careful not to slip on hidden ice and peaking into expensive shop windows when your father wasn't looking. He owned a general mercantile store, items ranged anywhere from tools to odd collectables to food. It wasn't uncommon for people to come in and ask for a specific item and your father would make some deals and acquire the item that wasn't available anywhere else and have it in the store for them the next week. Many people also came in to trade items for money, you'd watch from a distance as they haggled the price both the customer and father would fight over a single penny, it's pretty funny.

You sat on the large window sill at the back of the shop, face pressed up against the cold glass watching the busy people rush around. They looked like dragons with the cold breath coming from their noses and mouths. You'd just helped your father set up the shop ready to open, forced to clean the floors and surfaces and he finished some checks and brought out a few items from the back that he mended to be ready to sell.

You'd just finished wiping away the condensation on the windows, and were given the approval to sit down for a bit "Good job, go sit down out the way, I'll call for you in a bit".

People came and went hearing the bell ding from the door opening and watching people ponder on items as father busied himself with repairing an item to sell or counting money and paperwork. Looking back out the window you locked eyes with HER- a beautiful woman, in a pretty dress and lush winter coat. She smiled with a warmth this town hadn't seen in too long, you felt a connection instantly, you longed to talk to her, but brushed it off believing you only felt that way because of the abnormal warmth she radiated.

You had to stop yourself from gawking at her expensive clothing and lush long hair that was as dark as coal and curled to frame her face perfectly. Mustering up a genuine smile you raised your hand to wave subtly. You saw her eyes flicker to the store's main windows observing the variety before seemingly deciding to come look inside the shop. Straightening up in your seat you watched her cross the cobbled street towards the shop, you shuffled up closer towards the desk your father worked at, careful to stay out of his way but curious of the woman about to enter the shop.

The deep red of her dress was even more entrancing up close and her jewellery proudly sparkled. Father greeted her and helped her find some watches kept away in an expensive glass case lined with velvet padding. "Oh, my son would love one of these" She inspected them closer making light conversation with Father. Until she lifted her eyes over to you, spotting you almost instantly watching her from behind some storage shelves.

"Seems we have another expert ready to help. Come here." she gestured with an encouraging hand, you'd been caught off guard so your step stuttered as you walked closer -checking it was okay with your father with a glance.

"Come on" she egged. You walked up to the counter where the case of watches lay on display "Could you help me pick one out? I just can't decide" she sighed but kept a gentle warm smile. Something about her voice or eyes made you hesitate, ever so slightly unsettling, you'd never been nervous to help a customer. It was an odd feeling but her presence was so genuine and even maternal that you pushed aside the trepidations and nodded, unable to speak through your tied tongue.

Father left you both to it as he continued with work and serving the few customers who came in while you both talked. "My son is a serious young man, always deep in thought. He's needed a new watch for some time now, which one do you think will suit him?" she placed two watches she'd picked from the case, in front of you.

You stumbled over your words "I'm not sure... I mean I don't know much about watches" Your eyes darted between the two beautiful watches with tiny engravings -how did they make such small details on such a hard surface? You wondered. One gold and the other silver, they are just as beautiful as each other.

She lightly laughed, you could have sworn her eyes twinkled "Don't be modest. Beauty recognises beauty, and you are quite beautiful" Your face feels hot from the compliment and partly the pressure of picking such an expensive item for her.

"I suppose if he's more of a serious soul... he'd appreciate this one more?" you'd decided on the silver one, more sleek and serious. You didn't dare to touch it and dirty it so you just gestured.

She hummed, taking a closer look. You stood fiddling with your clothes unsure if it was the right choice, until she spoke- "You are a smart girl, this one is much more suitable." she agrees putting the gold one back in the box

Since finding your voice once again you decided to ask her about certain pieces of jewellery she wore as she counted her money. She gladly engaged in conversation, even passing you a few rings or bracelets that she wore so you could look at them closer as she talked about the stones or where she got them from. You insited you shouldn't touch them as she passed a bracelet to you "I've been cleaning this morning, my hands must be dirty I shouldn't touch such a valuable thing like this." She took your hand and manually placed it in your palm "It's no bother, I insist" she encouraged.

She travels a lot, and most of what she was wearing being from a different country. You wondered how she could travel so many places in such little time, and how rich she had to be to do that, you don't think you've ever left this town. Before you could ask about her travels, being so deeply invested in talking to her you'd leaned on the front desk, ready on your elbows and tip-toes for the next story- that wouldn't come. "-Are you helping the lady or just standing around?" your father scolded one he saw you chatting to the woman unrelated to selling her the watch "Get on with your chores before lunch time comes around" he ordered.

You turned to the woman with a sheepish and apologetic smile before hurrying away further into the store. She seemed a bit agitated by being interrupted by your father but quickly covered it up to finish the transaction.

"You've picked that one ma'am?" Your Father chimed in, eager for the money coming his way.

"Yes" she handed him the watch "Your daughter has quite the eye, it's a lovely piece" he hummed back in acknowledgement but not necessarily agreeing, he counted the cash and bagged the item. She wanted to scowl at his attitude but kept composed, she looked over her shoulder for any sign of you, she could hear the broom being swept over the wood-planked floor but couldn't see you. She reluctantly left with only the silver watch.

...

You saw the woman frequently after that first meeting. It was as if she appeared whenever you needed her most—without being summoned, always close by, like a shadow lingering just beyond the edges of your world.

Sometimes you'd bump into her on your way to the bakery when Father let you have a lunch break with a few coins clutched in your hand, and she'd fall into step beside you- like you'd just summoned her. She'd ask about you, but you were always eager to get to the stories that you'd rush through formalities, she'd gladly continue her stories of the world beyond this valley.She would then buy you a pastry or two, ones you couldn't possibly get with just the few coins in your hand. You'd pocket the extra coins and have a growing stash in your pillow back at home.

and walk you back to the shop "Go on, dear," she’d say, gently nudging you back toward the door. "I’ll see you again soon." Before disappearing into the crowd.

-

On other days, when you saw her outside the shop from your window, you felt an irresistible pull. Her presence became a secret thrill, something just for you, a small rebellion against the order your father imposed. Carefully, you’d slip out the back door, the heavy wooden frame creaking in protest, but not enough to alert anyone.

You’d run out, your heart racing as you approached her, trying not to draw too much attention from anyone passing by. She always noticed you before you could speak, turning toward you with that warm, knowing smile.

"Sneaking out again, are we?" she’d tease softly, her voice almost conspiratorial. "What would your father say?"

But there was never any judgment in her words, just a hint of amusement and affection.

-

At some point, you had the sense to ask her name after realising she'd been using your name but you, in all your excitement, had yet to use hers. "Lavinia Beaumont, dear" she couldn't help but laugh a little, she was beginning to believe you'd never ask.

You blinked, the name rolling over your tongue in your mind, everything about her seems rich and beautiful, you smiled.

"Lavinia Beaumont... it sounds like royalty," you said with a playful glint in your eyes. "Are you secretly a royal? I promise I won't tell anyone." you continued half joking.

"Not quite" She smiled, before you could question further you had to leave her for the day to return to the shop.

...

It was yet another working day for you and your father, or it should have been. Lavinia had yet to see you, she couldn't even sense your presence. not wanting to believe it however she left the carriage and walked further into the streets of town.

Subtly she went out of her way to walk in front of the mercantile store you were usually found in if not nearby. Her eyes darted at each of the windows, looking inside for the sight of you sweeping, cleaning, sitting at a window or sneaking around to fiddle and poke at the new stock much to your father's dismay. But the only person in the store is your father.

She walked the town a little longer, hoping anyone of her senses would pick up on you. There was nothing and she returned home.

Lavinia did this twice more, coming in the mornings, seeing no sign of you and coming up with excuses, but it never helped to unease.

On the 3rd day, she gave up waiting and walked into the mercantile store. The bell rang above her head "Back again I see, how can I help?" your father spoke straightening up from his position at the front desk where he'd previously been writing- presumably taking stock or counting money.

"A pleasure to meet you again, I'm curious about what other beautiful pieces you have, My son was most taken with it." Lavinia replied, eyeing the glass cases, none of this jewellery she'd wear, her taste is far more expensive but she had to sell the narrative. Your father jumped at the opportunity to sell yet another pricey piece "Ah! Madam, If you’ll allow me a moment, I believe I have something that might catch your eye."" he disappeared into a back room and emerged with an envelope. "I've just had these in, I haven't had time to put onto the shelves yet but it might be of interest to you, fine work indeed." He pulled out some fine chains of silver and gold, with little stones or pearls decorating them. Lavinia couldn't care less about the jewellery but played along nevertheless.

"Beautiful" she inspected "I had thought the young lady who assisted me last time might be here today. She had such an eye for these things. Where might she be? I'm sure she could pick the finest one for me" She began to prod but making as though the thought had only just occurred to her, asked in a light, conversational tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry to disappoint but my daughter has become increasingly ill the past few days. And the physicians believe it to be consumption, but they are hopeful she'll get well soon as we caught it early" Your father replied, he fidgeted and shifted his weight continuously.

Lavinia had long set down the jewellery and stood listening intensely. She dreaded it but had suspected something greater was at play- "I'm so sorry to hear that, such a sweet girl shouldn't go through that" She was secretly seething, her girl is in pain somewhere and Lavinia- for the first time in a long time- was helpless. He cleared his throat awkwardly "Yes, I'm sure it will all smooth out"

...

"The girl is sick! You know better than anyone she won't overcome this, not with those treatments-" Lavinia seethed at the thought pacing her husband's study, where he sat once writing at his desk but now interrupted and pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

He stood up ready for this argument to end, this girl had caused a lot of ruckus in the house since Lavinia had begun talking about you and he's about fed up "-We are surrounded by death, I thought you had come to terms with that long ago. Plenty of good people have died early in life and will continue to be that way, death doesn't discriminate. She's just one of an incomprehensible amount of average people experiencing an average tragedy" In some sick way he's ready for your death, so his wife overcomes this unhealthy attachment to some average mortal girl.

"But she could be more than that. She's more than that to me. And you know what I mean by that, you've been denying me this instinct for decades and you're cruel for that." Lavinia had to step away from the deeply unsettling conversation, turning her back to storm out but turning around last minute before slamming the door "I am the very thing that holds this family together and you'd have nothing without me" her teeth are gritted, her voice low and damning. She's never had any great quarrels with her husband, maybe a healthy few in the past few centuries but nothing that could make her question his love for her or hers for his.

...

"Father, a word?" Lucien, one of the sons of Lavinia and Soren, entered the study where hours had passed of Soren thinking over the conversation. Soren gave a brief nod busy putting on his coat and finding his gloves that he always seems to misplace, he supposed it's been a while since he's needed them to go out anywhere. "You can't be serious" Lucien scowled, now noticing what his father is doing.

"Get on with it boy" Soren scolds Lucien's disrespectful tone. "NO! You're going to get the girl, aren't you!? You're giving into Mother because of one little quarrel? You're putting our whole family, everything we've built at risk for an average mortal girl?" Lucien scolded, his face twisting in a mix of emotions, unable to grasp the concept.

Soren ignored Lucien's tone, whereas if it was any other day he wouldn't stand it -he's simply too tired to argue more "This is something I should have seen coming a long time ago. This isn't a passing interest or quarrel, you should know your Mother better than that. She's the reason we exist in any form of peace, the family would be much worse off without this gir-" Lucien interupts with "- We've done fine without this mortal so far!"

Soren glares at his son "I'd appreciate if you don't interrupt, that is childish. I don't expect you to understand your mother's need for her as you have never seen her broken" Soren pauses to grab his gloves out of their hiding place.

He continues "You're right, we've got this far without her. But this denial- this gap in your mother's life has been building in the background for centuries. She sees potential -so I suppose I do to" Before Lucien can argue more Soren leaves the room headed for the front door.

He passes the younger of the two, Dorian, standing close by "It's lousy to eavesdrop, Dorian" The boy grins in response, clearly curious about this change and more accepting than his brother.

...

You believed the reaper had come for your soul when you saw that man standing in the doorframe to your room. It had to be the dead of night, there was no sound to be heard or light to be seen aside from the dim glow of the moon. Your candle on the nightstand had long been burned out.

Still dazed and lethargic from sleep and sickness you blinked a few times at the unmoving figure which studied you, you then took a deep breath in, which rattled in your chest readying yourself for what monster you might face.

Courage is mustered and you manage to ask "Who are you?" quietly and sounding sickly but the monster in the shadow seems to hear you fine. "Soren. Your father sent me -I'm here to help, I'll have you healed by morning" his voice is monotone, but at least not one of a story book monster you'd expected.

You felt bitterness at the mention of your father's name, once you had given him every excuse in the book for why he didn't show his love for you. But the past few days had been rough, he wouldn't even look at you, unsure what to do with you, sending doctors and medicine but not the comfort you longed for. You just wanted reassurance, just love.

Soren steps into the room a bit further, the wallpaper a childish floral pattern. You had trinkets strewn about, papers of scribbled writing and doodles on the little oak wood desk, a doll here and there that you couldn't part with once your childhood had finished.

He looked back at you, pale and exhausted. Your brows furrowed while you tried to make sense of the man. He felt an unexplainable emotion, maybe closer to remorse but more complex than that. The innocence he hadn't seen in a long time, you'd struggle for a while once you were turned - it happened with both his sons and wife. Maybe you'd wish you had died here on this bed, maybe you'd fill the house with anger or maybe sorrow.

But in the grand scheme of things that period will be not even a fraction of your greatest purpose. He sucked in a deep breath out of habit not need, he pushed back the hesitation. For a greater purpose. For Lavinia. For the sake of his family, which you will become.

In cold resolve he walked towards the bed, you'd live on in a way, he wasn't lying. Your true death would be wasted potential, you'd learn to be content with undead like he once had to.

"How?" you questioned he blinked back into reality "How can you heal me in mere hours?" It's a reasonable question, but an incredibly complex answer he didn't have time for.

"You just have to trust me" He replied simply "We have to go to my office first, you'll be in your bed, healthy, come morning. I promise" He continued, seeing your weariness.

Your hand lifted and a small finger stuck out "Promise?" you asked. He recognised the childish gesture and returned it with his gloved hand, hiding how unaturally cold he is "I promise" he repeated back. He wasn't really lying, you would be saved from consumption in a couple of hours and sleeping in your bed -be it in your new home.

He lifted you into his arms, one under your legs and the other around your back as you rest your head on his chest. You both left the room then house without another word never to be seen by the sleepy, moody little town ever again.

You fell asleep -the last deep sleep you'd experience as a living being. He was careful not to wake you on the ride home.

...

Lavinia now had found out what was happening after Dorian ran to tell her the news -ever loyal to his mother. "Fathers left to get the girl" he gently told her as he stuck his head through the crack of the door.

Lavinia straightened up from her seat where she sat embroidering to pass the time "You don't mean it? When did he leave?" she haphazardly dropped the items on a side table and rushed past him.

"Not long ago" Dorian followed after his mother "How could this be?" she more so muttered to herself but Dorian replied anyways "A change of heart I suppose" Dorian was quite amused by it all, more from shock not meaning to be insensitive. Its rare that something of interest or chaotic happens in the house that he cant helped but get worked up a bit.

Lavinia paced the entryway waiting for Soren to return, hopefully with you. Dorian sat on the staircase a bit further back keeping his mother company while Lucien sulked in his personal study, wanting nothing more to do with this mess.

The carriage and hooves could be heard on the gravel path leading to the house. Lavinia couldn't wait any longer and opened the door welcoming in a cold draft as she stepped outside to watch the carriage come into sight.

And there you were in Soren's arms, out cold, but looking so peaceful. He stepped down onto the gravel and Lavinia almost aggressively snatched you from his hold.

Instead, she gently took you, not to wake you. Seeing you up close was a shock for her, only remembering you as that lively town girl. Not the sickly pale, exhausted and wasting girl consumed by sickness.

"Oh my baby" she whispered brushing the hair away from your fevered face, then clutching you closer, cradling you like one would a baby. For a fleeting moment, her eyes met with Soren -her hand briefly brushed over the side of his face, a quick gesture of appreciation. He stood unmoving and unreadable but allowed the touch and connection.

She then rushed you inside before the frost of the night woke you up, her footsteps hurried but careful. Her head crowded with one thought only; 'you're safe with me now, forever and always'

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hcs for a Tav who grew up being starved/neglected. Maybe their parents were poor or they were an orphan on the street. They don’t hoarde too much food but they don’t eat in front of others. And rarely take enough. And they refuse to shower near the others or camp super close to them. They’re almost always on alert and are really bad at self care. They’re always dirty, hair a mess. They kind of smell. And they are also ashamed of the fact no one taught them how to take care of themselves???

For Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Wyll? ^_^

Thank you!

A/N: Oh Nonnie, I feel this! I was a child of divorce and at one house we were very disciplined and had routines for self-care and homework and everything. But the other house was chaotic and full of resentment and neglect. It’s so odd how something 20+ years ago can still affect you today, but it absolutely can. 💚

For some resources on having to figure things out as an adult, may I recommend the “How Do I Dad?” YouTube Channel and the r/InternetParents subreddit? Those are the two I like the best atm. Also remember, Google is your friend. Whenever I want a real person to answer, I usually type in my question with a plus sign then Reddit (+reddit) which will pull up real user’s threads from Reddit about the subjects you’re Googling. It’s one of the last platforms I think is usable in that way. So that's why I do that. Then again, I’m old and might just miss the old ppl’s Internet. 

Anyway, on to the ask!

…

TW: Mentions of Past Neglect, Disordered Eating, Food Insecurity

...

🧼️ HCs for Neglected!(GN)Tav With Astarion, Halsin, & Wyll 🛁

Astarion: 

Okay, he’s kinda a dick about it at first. He doesn’t mean to be. Well, I mean, yes he meant to make those petty comments, but he wouldn’t have made them if he knew about Tav’s past circumstances. Once Tav lets it slip they’re bad at self-care because no one ever taught them, Astarion immediately feels a sense of kinship. 

He was a magistrate before Cazador captured and turned him, and he considered himself to be a man of some luxury, but after being taken that all changed. He lived in filth, he was fed filth, by the hells, Cazador saw him as filth. He knows what it feels like to be seen as worthless and to have to survive in meager conditions. He wants Tav to understand none of it is their fault. They had no control over their circumstances. He tells Tav to never apologize for the way they had to live in order to survive. 

The first thing he offers to help Tav with is bathing and dressing. When Cazador let him out to lure victims, Astarion perfected disguising his undead scent over the decades. Part of it was using oils and perfumes, and another part was choosing the right attire. He’ll find the right kind of soap and cleansing oils for Tav's skin and hair type, insisting they get only the best the markets of Baldur’s Gate have to offer. If Tav can’t afford it, who cares? He’ll just sneak around the merchant and steal it while Tav distracts them. Or Lazel, if Tav refuses to do something so morally questionable.

He doesn’t really pick up on Tav’s refusal to eat with the others, mainly because Astarion also doesn’t eat with the others. But if Tav requests, Astarion will gladly sit and gossip with Tav as they eat their meal, away from everyone else. 

Astarion might suggest the party visit an inn or a bar one night, and encourage Tav, in his way, to let their guard down and eat around the others. He wants Tav to practice consuming food in the presence of their other friends. Astarion believes it’ll do two things: 1) It’ll prove to Tav, that it’s safe to eat in their company and 2) It’ll reinforce what Astarion’s been saying to them, that there’s nothing wrong with the way they eat. Even if they scarf their food down or eat with their hands or burp extra loud- who cares? Karlach practically inhales three portions in a single bite. Gale won’t shut up while he eats, so he’s always talking with his mouth full. And Shadowheart takes the tiniest bites imaginable, meaning she takes fricken forever to finish a single plate. Everyone has their own style, and Tav’s is nothing to be ashamed of. 

If Tav and Astarion are especially close or if they’re dating, Astarion will even offer to help Tav wash up. Not because he wants to see them naked, or to have sex, but because he really wants to shower them in affection. He’ll gently massage their shoulders as he works the cleansing oils into them. He’ll help them balance, bending backward as he washes their hair, gently using the very tips of his sharp nails to scratch their scalps. It feels heavenly, and it’s a great intimate, non-sexual way for the two of them to grow closer. 

It may be true no one was there to take care of either Astarion or Tav in the years past. But now that they’re together, the two of them can take care of each other. 

Halsin: 

Halsin prefers to live amongst nature as opposed to city dwellings, so he’s more accustomed to roughing it than the others may be. That being said, he’s not unclean, or unkempt- he keeps himself very well groomed (as one must do when they tend to ask to bed anyone and everyone they come into contact with for more than five seconds). He assumes Tav is just more accustomed to frequent bathing at first. Not everyone is as fortunate as he is. But he begins to suspect something the more the days go on, and Tav’s appearance and demeanor don’t change. 

He’ll try casually inviting Tav to come bathe with him. He knows the perfect spot just beyond the Grove, that’s secluded but not too small, that would well accommodate both of their bodies. He suggests this regardless of whether he and Tav are dating or not. If Tav is hesitant, he apologizes for being forward and kindly explains he just wanted to present Tav with the opportunity to take some time for themselves. When Tav breaks down in front of him, explaining why they’re so upset about the idea of grooming and self-care, Halsin is immediately sympathetic.  He listens intently as Tav gets their fears off their chest. 

Once Halsin understands Tav’s situation, he’ll take them into his tent, and show Tav his collection of soaps and brushes and oils. Halsin explains how he prefers to use each one, before gifting them to Tav to keep for themselves. When Tav protests that it’s too much, Halsin puts a hand up to stop them. He can always buy new items. Besides, he’s learned how to make the most of what only Mother Nature has to offer. He can manage without fancy cleansers and bristles for a time. Tav deserves them more. 

Halsin might even offer Tav some clothes if he has any that wouldn’t be too difficult to tuck or take in, as he’s a very tall man. With Tav’s permission, he might even ask Shadowheart Lazel or even Astarion if they have something they could spare for the time being, if Tav is too embarrassed or shy to ask for themselves. 

He offers to keep watch and guard Tav as they bathe, promising not to look unless Tav asks them to. If the two are dating, Halsin will assist them, helping Tav scrub down, and removing all the dirt, grime, and dead skin before washing them in the water. If the two are only friends, Halsin keeps his promise of not looking at Tav until they are dressed again. He’ll help detangle and braid Tav’s hair, taking care not to pull too hard on any knots. The whole ordeal leaves Tav feeling rather pampered. 

As far as eating goes, Halsin will always offer to share any meal he catches while the party is camping together, which is how Halsin notices Tav’s different eating habits. Halsin swears that as long as he is well and able to hunt and gather food, Tav will never go hungry in his presence. Halsin assures Tav that it’s okay to eat full, rather than stockpile most of their meals for later. It’s much more important to eat for energy now, rather than wait to eat later. It keeps one’s energy levels stable and helps to reduce any unintentional food waste as things tend to spoil sooner rather than later. 

Halsin takes it upon himself to become a provider of sorts for Tav, the one Tav never had. He plans to lavish Tav with so much attention and care, that those wounds caused by years of abandonment and neglect have no choice but to close. 

Wyll: 

Wyll is a bit awkward about it in the beginning. Not because he intends to be rude, but because he’s unsure of how to approach the subject with Tav without sounding like a snide ass. If it were any other companion, he might have made an offhand comment days ago, but when it comes to their leader, Wyll holds much more admiration and respect. So, Wyll holds his tongue until things become a bit more apparent, and he believes he knows the most sensitive way to navigate them. 

When everyone sits down to eat, Wyll asks Tav if they’d like to join them. He does this every evening, hoping Tav will eventually say yes. If Tav still doesn’t bite, he’ll come to them, and ask if he could sit next to Tav as they eat. Wyll makes a casual conversation between bites, trying to bring Tav out of their shell. If there's still no change, Wyll opens up about being on his own, having been kicked out of his home as a young man. He reveals how for the first few years he was often hungry, tired, and cold- being forced to move around from place to place outside of Baldur’s Gate without the proper supplies to fend for himself or keep himself dry. This prompts Tav to open up a bit about their past- how they also had to survive on their own, and now, as an adult, they don’t know how to do anything other than ‘survive’. 

Wyll is, of course, empathetic. Tav may not have come from a noble background like Wyll did, but that’s no excuse for all Tav had to endure, especially as a child. Wyll tells them he’s sorry Tav had to live through all that, and makes it very clear that it was in no way, Tav’s fault. They were just a kid, they should have been protected. There’s nothing to feel ashamed about. They didn’t fail, other people failed them. 

Wyll had to learn how to do many things on his own, and he thinks it would be best for him to share all he’s learned. One night he sits with Tav at dinner, encouraging Tav to eat, as Wyll tells them how he learned where to stay, how to get work, when to leave, and where to train. 

Together, Wyll and Tav come up with a list of items Tav most likely needs for self-care. All the while Wyll does his best to ensure Tav doesn’t feel judged for lacking such things. Again, Wyll reminds them, it’s not their fault. And there’s never any time to start like the present. If they’re close enough to a market, Wyll will take them there, and help Tav purchase everything they need. However, if they’re somewhere without vendors, say the Underdark or the Shadowlands, Wyll will approach a party member for assistance. 

Out of all of the companions, Wyll asks Astarion if he has any extra cleansing soaps or oils because Wyll knows Astarion’s the most high-maintenance party member amongst them lol. Once Wyll secures those items, he gifts them to Tav, and lets them know he’d be happy to stand guard while they bathe. Wyll plants himself midway between the camp and the river, giving Tav ample space. Wyll would feel being too close to them, in this manner, at this point, even if he and Tav were in a relationship, would be inappropriate. 

Once Tav is bathed and dressed, Wyll escorts them back to the fire. As Tav’s hair dries, Wyll regales them with much more upbeat stories, tales of his times as the Blade of Frontiers. His battles and triumphs, his rescues and saves- all of that. He wants Tav to know he has their back. Wyll is capable of protecting Tav, and he intends to do it in a way where Tav never has to feel abandoned or forgotten again.

...

💚💚 Don't Forget to Like & Please Reblog!!! 💚💚

[bangaveragewhitewine]

soft slow, morning glow

Steve Harrington x Reader

A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways. 

October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.

Word count: 4.3K

Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents. 

Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).

Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again. 

Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland

Steve Harrington was always an early riser. 

As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover. 

Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him. 

He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground. 

As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora. 

He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive. 

When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around. 

When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.  

Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment. 

In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists. 

Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was. 

He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.

Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city. 

When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him. 

You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches. 

In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.

He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.

You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94. 

A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.

When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it. 

Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995. 

Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her. 

Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life. 

On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield. 

Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.

When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control. 

You did plenty of all three. 

Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).

Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm. 

Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier. 

When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.

You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes. 

By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier. 

This morning, you wake first. 

Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday.  Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully. 

Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard. 

The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.

Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing. 

This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time… 

The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired. 

“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets. 

“Mm, needed to pee.” 

You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well. 

Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year. 

You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting. 

Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last. 

Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise. 

This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open. 

“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.

“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish. 

Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist. 

“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her. 

“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed. 

In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for. 

“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.” 

Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!” 

You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet. 

“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed. 

“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces. 

You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”

She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles. 

Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face. 

“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm. 

“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully. 

“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”

“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.

Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.

The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal. 

Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you. 

Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.

You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair. 

“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.” 

Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?” 

His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously. 

Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon. 

“Feeling good. You okay?”

Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that. 

“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?” 

You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure. 

“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly. 

“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.

You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?” 

Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?” 

You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?” 

Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.” 

You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss. 

“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw. 

“Love you. So much, babe.” 

Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you). 

“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth. 

“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”

“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt. 

“What? The kid’s gotta know.”

The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course). 

Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)

The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek. 

Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick. 

“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready. 

Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom. 

His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!

You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne. 

Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.

You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine. 

Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be. 

[hoshieeyewrinkles]

Dark best friend's brother Jake who really wants to fuck reader but can't seem to get her alone. She's also scared of him because of his habits like smoking weed and partying all the time kinda reputation. Pls make it non con!!💕

Here you go anon 💓

⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊•⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊

[ Bloodshot eyes ]

Tw: non-con, slight degradation, uses of drugs, ass eating, anal sex.

"Why are you running away from me, sweetheart?" He asked, trapping you between his thighs, one hand firmly gripping your hip and the other holding the cigarette in his mouth. You tried to wiggle out of the way, but he just smirked.

"S-Stop it! Jake, I am going to tell your sister about this." You tried to threaten him, causing him to snort. "Alright, sweetheart, you have scared me enough. You are free to leave." He said, spreading his thighs to release you. You dashed upstairs, looking back once to see him staring at your ass with those bloodshot eyes you feared so much.

Terror clawed at your insides whenever Jake sauntered into the room. "Scared" was a laughable understatement; you were petrified, paralyzed by a primal fear that danced in his eyes and lurked in the sneer twisting his lips. His habits were disgusting, his friends, and his violent outbursts sent shivers down your spine. What made it worse was how everyone seemed to fall under his spell, mesmerized by his list filled eyes. Did looks truly hold such power?.

It was like a cruel joke. You'd befriended his sister, drawn to her genuine sweetness and kindred spirit. She, like you, was innocent, sweet and timid. You'd naively expected a similar light in Jake, instead, you were shocked to find him doing everything which you loathed. It didn't matter what he did as long as he didn't bother you but that's the only thing he does these days, cornering you with every chance he could get.

The mere sight of Jake sent shivers down your spine, His lustful stares felt like physical gropes, each passing touch a violation disguised as casual contact. His house, once a haven shared with your best friend, became a hell you had to run. The air thick with the smell of weed and the annoying laughter of his friends, their jeering hollers as you passed by made you want to crawl and hide.

But you were trapped. Confiding in your best friend, Jake's sister, was unthinkable. How could you shatter her image of her perfect, protective brother? Her belief that his bad habits are just a way of rebellion towards their neglecting and absent parents.

The night came quickly, and you found yourself moving around, trying to find a comfortable position next to your best friend, who was fast asleep. You sighed and got out of bed; perhaps a glass of water would help, and since it was only 12 am., her brother would not be back yet.

You tiptoed your way down the kitchen, refilling your glass with water. You jumped when you felt a hand on your ass. "Its me, darling." There was his honey voice which always spoke nasty words to you. Commenting on how big your tits look and you pretty you would look with his cock in your mouth.

"Please Leave!" You turned around, attempting to remove his hand, but his hand remained groping your ass, groaning in satisfaction. "You don't understand how long I have waited for this..." He whispered before pulling you in for a rough kiss. You could taste the alcohol in your mouth as his tongue desperately licked every corner of it. He only pulled away to catch his breath.

"I'm gonna fucking ruin you!" His hands ripped open your shirt as you thrashed around, trying to scream his sister's name, but he cut you off with a slap on your tits. "You think she will help you, baby? She will blame you for seducing me," he laughed, palming your tits over your bra before pulling it down.

You could only swallow your moans as he sucked your nipples and twirled them around with his tongue, staring at you with bloodshot eyes. The ones which are always drowned in lust and intoxicated. You did not have the guts to stop him when his hands slid down your shorts, cupping your pussy and playing with your clit while your body continued to produce slick. "Might as well admit that you like it, darling," he chuckled, pulling away to admire the marks he had left all over your chest. He bounced them in his hand, grinning as you cried harder.

He treated you like a ragdoll, pulling your shorts down and bending you down on the counter while sucking hickies over your ass. "Mmnh...I needed to eat this ass, the one you liked to flaunt like a real slut." His tongue left a long stripe between your ass crack. You felt disgusted and violated, not only by him, but also by yourself, as you struggled to control your moans.

You did not stop him when he desperately ate your ass, moving his head around and moaning loudly, not caring if his sister was awake, because, in the end, you seduced him, and God knows how many times he jerked off to your thoughts. The fear in your eyes, the way you went pale every time you saw him turned him on so badly and so he will use you as he wishes.

He did not stop groaning as he relentlessly pounded into your ass, his hips moving at an uncontrollable pace. "Y-yeah baby, this is just fun. Come on just admit you like it." He taunted you, pulling on your hair as you let out moans and shook your head between your messed-up state. You did not like it. You despised it, even if your body acted otherwise. You still despised it when you came around his cock for the fourth time. You hated yourself when he laughed each time.

"You are mine now doll, I own you now. I'm gonna pass you around to my friends, fuck you till we are satisfied. Gonna give you a valid reason to hate me now, yeah? "

[wolf-feathers12]

Big e and parenting/how to raise a kid in the Palaeolithic times. And the horrors of writing down word vomit.

TW: CHILD ABUSE,

From what I understand about warhammer there's this general consensus that big E KNEW how to be a better parent but just chose not to be one.

And it got me thinking.

What was parenting like back in the Palaeolithic times? (The emperor of mankind was apparently born in the 8th Millennium B.C. and again from my limited understanding this is sorta still apart of the Palaeolithic times? If anyone can clarify this I'd appreciate it!)

Now I'm no historian but I think it would be safe to assume that infant death would be very high. Meaning that you would try to have as many kids as possible because you don't know if they will all survive and kids weren't seen as their own person more of as workers or helpers

Maybe even tools???

Again that's a huge thing that ive simplified and I think it's also fair to say that there were many many communities where family relationships were far more nuanced but it does make me wonder.

If you grew up in a society where you could die from getting a simple cut and child abuse wasn't a thing (I'm picturing something like a Spartan society where being beaten to an inch of Ur life is seen as a building character moment) it was want made you a MAN.

Plus I don't really think neolithic fathers would be very understanding or supportive parents (having a relationship wasn't a goal surviving was kinda thing?)

Basically what I'm picturing is big e having one of those "I'm never going to treat my kids like this >:C" moments but by treating kids he's referring to the fact that he won't break their legs because they talked back kinda thing?

Big E strikes me as the kinda parent (in a modern au maybe?) to when called out on their neglect of their kids will be genuinely quite confused

"I never beat you guys? And you always had food ect??? I know abuse and I never abused you so stop complaining. :O"

Also if you were immortal and had lived since the Neanderthals (personal headcanon is that E is part Neanderthal or something hehehehe) the way you relate to people and have relationships with them would probably be a bit fucked? Add to that the fact that he's stuck in a BIGGER picture type mindset (AUTISM???) and you have a recipe for disaster.

That's not to say that big E is entirely blameless or should be wobberfied (you can if you want to lol) but I think there's a lot more at play then just "big E is an evil father"

If your still reading this then Ur a pretty cool person fr. Also my understanding of warhammer lore is limited so if there's something in cannon that directly contradicts this then pls let me know yo! >_<

thanks and have a great day! :D

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 4: Talentless Nana vs Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun

#F6: Talentless Nana (Munou na Nana)

Normal school until stuff happens

#F8: Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun (Marimashita! Iruma-kun)

Young boy gets sold to a demon to be his grandson

Details and poll under the cut!

#F6: Talentless Nana (Munou na Nana)

Summary:

Fifty years ago, horrific creatures dubbed as the “enemies of humanity” suddenly appeared around the world. To combat these threats, teenagers gifted with supernatural abilities called “Talents”—such as pyrokinesis and time travel—hone their powers at an academy on a secluded island.

Nanao Nakajima, however, is quite different from the others on the island: he has no Talent. With many “Talented” teenagers around him, Nanao is often a target for bullying, but even so, he still strives to complete his training. Soon after, two transfer students, the mysterious Kyouya Onodera and the mind-reading Nana Hiiragi, join the class. But just as everyone starts blending as comrades-in-arms, mysterious disappearances begin to threaten the class’s entire foundation.

Propaganda:

I’d like to start off by saying that this is NOT a copy of My Hero Academia, even though it sounds as such. It’s kinda hard to explain the show without spoiling a major plot point, but it’s pretty much as the summary says. Honestly, if you want to watch this, don’t look up anything about it—you will get spoiled right away, and it does ruin the experience. I started this without knowing anything about it and I think that’s for the best because it’s plot twist after plot twis,t and you’re not sure what to expect next. That’s honestly something I really liked about it because you don’t know where the story will take you. Anyways, highly recommend because more people should know about this series.

Trigger Warnings:

Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore

There’s a Nazi-coded character who does eugenics, and he’s also the reason for the child abuse tw

Sexual assault attempt on main character

Necrophilia (there’s a character who controls another person’s corpse and act like they’re dating)

#F8: Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun (Marimashita! Iruma-kun)

Summary:

Fourteen-year-old Iruma Suzuki has been unfortunate all his life, having to work to earn money for his irresponsible parents despite being underage. One day, he finds out that his parents sold him to the demon Sullivan. However, Iruma's worries about what will become of him are soon relieved, for Sullivan merely wants a grandchild, pampering him and making him attend the demon school Babyls.

At first, Iruma tries to keep a low profile in fear of his peers discovering that he is human. Unfortunately, this ends up being more difficult than he expected. It turns out that Sullivan himself is the chairman of the school, and everyone expects him to become the next Demon King!

Iruma immediately finds himself in an outrageous situation when he has to chant a forbidden spell in front of the entire school. With this, Iruma instantly earns a reputation he does not want. Even so, he is bound to be roped into more bizarre circumstances.

Propaganda 1:

The main character, Iruma, is very kind and wholesome, and you really just want to see him succeed throughout the series, especially after knowing everything he’s been through. He was neglected and used by his parents, but now he gets to live out a nice life despite being surrounded by demons, as his new grandfather spoils him. The demon that adopted him, Sullivan, is an extremely powerful figure in the demon realm, but through most of the series, he looks like an egg. The side characters are also well-designed with interesting personalities. The main two, Asmodeus and Clara, become almost inseparable from Iruma after they become friends, and the three of them are very cute together. There is also a canon nonbinary cat person, who is technically Sullivan’s servant, but he is treated as part of the family, and he’s a disaster bisexual.

Propaganda 2:

It’s really good in terms of art, plot, and characters. There’s nonbinary representation in the form of Opera, and there’s friendship galore with very poly undertones. It’s so sweet and good, and it’s just rahhhhh. Everyone is silly but also realistic and well-developed. There are reasonable arcs, and there’s a well mix of plot-driven growth and character-driven plots. I love every person who appears onscreen, even for like two seconds. The world building is lovely and so bright and colorful.

Propaganda 3:

You should vote for it because it is genuinely one of the best animes I’ve ever seen. It has good character development, mysteries, focuses on the cast well, and it is not a harem anime. The plot is also really good and is suitable for all age groups.

Fun fact: the main character crossdresses three times in the first three seasons

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse (mild)

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

[mothball-pressure]

|| I kinda wanna YaP about Vince! I'll do a mass post of this fluffy boy♡

Vince yap post :D

Yaps under cut! (And Document transcript)

》 The Nightstalker; Z-163, codename; Nightstalker, real name Vince Castello, is to be KILLED ON SIGHT if encountered. Caution is required when in the presence of Z-163. Despite his size, he is agile and can squeeze himself through small openings as long as his head can fit through. He is capable of being underwater for an extended period of time. He is INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS. [Redacted.]

Z-163 was released by Z-129 and proceeded to add to the chaos during lockdown. Z-163 is often seen within the dark, so remain cautious and preceptive. Z-163 has been seen scavenging for data and classified documentation, assumingly, to assist with Z-13 in his plans. Z-163 is rarely seen on CCTV and glimpses are far and few in between.

After sightings of Z-163, no reports were made. Those who have managed to return to the surface have suffered major injuries and found paralyzed and dead within the submersible. [REDACTED] traces have been found within the corpses. Each member have been returned with their middle fingers up. Z-163 seems to be mocking Urbanshade.

If Nightstalker is encountered IMMOBILE, it is HEAVILY recommended to SHOOT TO KILL.

Z-163 was brought in as an LR-R in mid 2015, charged for 1st degree murder of [redacted] different accounts and acts of cannibalism. By late 2015, all investigations were closed and he was sentenced to death. He was quickly taken into custody by Urbanshade, with a false death certificate to indicate his death.

Z-163 was selected for human experimentation for lost limb growth and regrowth of lost limbs. In addition, he was selected for additional testing for better performance and stealth on the field. Hoping for a way to give ther disabled a way to generate limbs lost by medical and/or outside means. With strands of Axolotl, Spiny mouse, Zebra Fish. female Orchid Mantis, [redacted], Semioptila Fulveoland Moth, [redacted]. This resulted in few desired effects, and many undesired side effects. While being able to regenerate and regrow, Z-163 was unable to regrow his missing leg. Further tests were planned but unable to be performed. Mutations of Z-163 include but not limited to; Antenna, large Motha like wings, amphibious lungs, manibles on the face, [redacted], height growth, extra arms, manibles on the waist, cartilage-like bone density, neck fluff, extention of body limitations, and 3 rows of teeth. extra eyes, digigraded legs. Further changes within Z-163 have not been able to be noted. During experimentation years, it is possible Z-163 may have been tested on without proper authorization. Some side effects have not been documented and therefore, deemed as a failed test subject. Elimination for Z-163 has been authorized due to unauthorized testing and contamination of final produce.

Z-163 has been spotted within darker areas and within the ceiling. Often speaking warnings before he appears. Z-163 is agile and flexible in movement and is able to blend into his surroundings. In dark areas, black lights are able to detect his where abouts. It's is advised to hide and stay silent if ever encountered. 《

Moff Ball; otherwise known as Z-163 aka Nightstalker aka Vince Castello!!

DOB: Oct 30th 1985!

Birth Location: Somewhere in the UK.

TW/CW: Mentions of addiction/substance abuse, chronic illness, deds, general abuse, and murber/gore!

Human background:

Bio parents never wanted the kids; mother was an addict and often jumped from father to father.

Once she "settled down" in a small town she left the kiddies at home with the father of her youngest. He was neglectful and abusive.

Vince was the oldest of 4, he took it upon himself to protect and take care of his younger sibling. Due to living in the middle of nowhere without many modes of transportation other than the school bus or walking hours into the closest town, he started gardening and hunting.

From a young age he was taught how to kill and harvest his game. Grew tough skinn and a very very grey morale.

By the time he hit the senior years of primary school, his mother was no where to be found, and father passed due to drunk driving. He and his siblings were taken into Foster care.

Which is where he got a bit more care from others than himself and his eldest sister. At this time (around 12/13 years old) he found out he had cancer, undergoing treatment and ultimately losing his right leg due to the illness.

Around Freshmen year of High school is when he committed his first murder. It was accidental, and within self defence. However, due to his fear, anxiety, and pure adrenaline and shock, Vince shut down into an auto pilot mode. Thus harvesting and storing the meats from the victim.

He was always taught to thank the earth for what it's given, and cherish each hunt as of it were a gift. Nothing ever went to waste... making the "disappearances" difficult to trace and figure out.

Each kill was with respect and modesty. It was rare that he harmed out of anger. Although, he thought he was helping... as if weeding out the "lesser beings."

Vince was good at what he does, cleaning up, hiding evidence, etc. Its what he was taught from early on.

Regardless, he graduated high school and even went into college, majoring in Culinary and hospitality, while minoring in music!

He is fluent in both French and English with some itsy bitsy knowledge of Gaelic (though he doesn't count it as a language he knows, its just "trivial" to him)

Vince often went out for fun nights, loved to go out for karaoke, four wheeling, swimming, drank often! He even hosted dinner parties and BBQs :3

His love life was never... *lucky*. To say the least, first girlfriend ended up being a poser, only using him for bragging rights, often talked shit about him and victimized herself.

Second girlie was abusive in a large array, she was a less intense version of his mother. That should say plenty.

Third was his last girlfriend, she was a cheat. Although, Vince didn't know this, he thought she was *the one*!— She didn't even show up to his Court dates... didn't visit him in jail, never answered his calls, fill his cantine... nothing.

He was taken by Urbanshade when he was sentenced with the Death penalty in mid 2015. Convicted with 36 murders, and more that were considered to be his doing.

Upon being in Urbanshade's custody, he was elected to experimentation and testing to further the research of limb regrowth, growth of limbs that have been long removed or never have been, and a few other tests for the militia.

Often used as a toy and a practice. Most procedures never got recorded and often weren't authorized by the higher ups. He was an experiment set up for failure from the beginning due to neglect and disinterest from the doctors and scientists who worked on him.

Vince, Game mechanic wise, is a passive aggressive entity your encounter.

He is normally found in the dark, so dark rooms, halls, and flooded rooms are all places he can appear.

(LiKe Squiddles)

Though he's not bothered by light sources, he'll hide if you shine your light source at him. BLACKLIGHT and the NECROBLOXICON is the only light sources you can see him with and he won't hide.

He will follow you for at least 3 rooms as long as they're all dim or dark. If your next room is lit he vanishes into the vents.

He won't move closer to you if you look at him but he'll start *taunting you.*

`"Aw, Come on pet~" "keep looking... I dare you~" "oh? Is there something behind you?"`

Etc.

The longer you look at him the more he gets aggressive, and angry.

This can trigger his attack

(Again like Squiddles)

Hes very playfully and hunter like, often saying you're going to play hide and seek.

He'll give you warnings.

His final warning is much like multi monster! Red text in game and you have a short time to hide etcetcetc.

If you're not out of line of sight he'll kill you and eat you.

But if you hide and are, say, in a locker, you play a fun little mini game to keep the locker shut! Etc

(Like Pandemonium♡)

He's fast. He will vanish after an attack. But like the others, he will come back.

Flashing him with a flash beacon triggers an attack.

The only way to keep him passive is ignoring him or another monster coming.

He will attempt to interact with you verbally, sweet talk you, and even taunt you.

TW/CW: Medical talk, ♋️, medical procedures

Before Urbanshade:

Health:

Mild asthma

Bee allergy

Cancer

Tendonitis

Long history of respitory infections and issues

Mental:

- PTSD

- Depression

- Compassion fatigue

- BPD

- Agoraphobia

- Panic/Anxiety disorders

- Dissociative disorder

- ADHD

- acute Autism

After Urbanshade:

He was tested on with a handful of main DNAs

- Luna Moth

- Semioptila fulveolans moth

- hawk moth

- female Orchid Mantis

- Axolotl

- Zebra Fish

- Spiny mouse

- Lemon shark

- Rex Bunny

Again, he was brought in for regeneration, but due to them having success with others, they didn't care too much for what concoction they put into Vince. He was just a little pin cushion for the science and medical aspects. Something to fill their boredom and/or sadistic urges. Etcetc

*i don't have them all filled out, either or they didn't care at all for Vince and he often pissed them off with his quirks and sarcasm.*

In addition to that DNA

He was also mixed with:

- Deathstalker Scorpion

- yellow jacket

- black widow

- silk moth

- dumbo rat

- cheetah

- starfish

- Armenian Viper

While enduring exposure to different drugs and gasses to test the active regeneration process for a faster regen

TAKES DEEP BREATH

Vince's body has withstanded the changes of mutations

Hes capable of breathing underwater, he's rendered amphibious.

He holds vemon within his body. It is Deathstalker venom that over takes all sources of venom.

His insect like arms and manibles all hold stingers,

He is also capable of injecting venom via his teeth.

Traces can also be found in his saliva, but it's not lethal.

(*its due to him being irritated from having shit in his mouth, its normally not found there*)

Vince is also capable of squeezing through small spaces.

Shark DNA has rendered his bone density similar to cartilage-like density. His skeletal structure is strong but is flexible enough to reform his body for very short periods of time.

Has adopted 3 rows of teeth.

Body hair has increased and is dense but naturally soft and fluffy. (This doesn't seem like much though, he is albino, therefore, minimal body hair prior to mutation)

The fluff around his neck is rather sensitive but is able to help sense things around, much like his antenna

He has also endured long procedures strapped to a table, torn apart, injected with substances, and had limbs and organs removed just to see the process.

Teeth pulled, limbs chopped, things removed,

Drained of blood to see his performance.

Vince was also put under immense stressors and torture to measure what his body us capable of.

He has limits. Not all are recorded, but bro isn't invincible.

I might drop trivial and fun facts later :3

I'm done yapping for now♡