#unhealthy family relationships

[oranges-and-peaches]

a list of all the fics i've uploaded to ao3 and snippets

it's no use going back to yesterday (i was a different person then) - splintered

“I hurt her?” The words come out without me even thinking about it. If I wasn’t sure about going crazy before I sure am now, because out of all the things Jeb could’ve said, I wasn’t expecting that.

blend blend - jazzpunk

She’s having fun! Sure, she isn’t really allowed in the hot tub by the orders of her sister, but she doesn’t need to be in there! Yeah, she's a little bummed out by the fact that her sister took both of the guys for herself and took her aside to not so nicely tell her to back off, but that doesn’t matter. She's just happy to have been invited for once!

rabbit pie day - too many cooks

she wishes she could cry. she wishes she could do anything else except smile. but she can't. she no longer wants to be here. katie had been so excited to be in a show and on tv. she didn't anticipate the freedom of her sense of self being taken away. she's not allowed to moved if there isn't a camera on her. is this a curse? it sure seems like it; feels like it. she never felt this much pain in her life. it's not physical, no. It's mental.

apocalyptic creep - the walking dead, original

He was just minding his business! Really! He was! It's not like he was trying to creep on her! After the chaos his most recent encampment had ended in, he had been on his own. Seeing the woman approaching the area he was camping out in had scared him. He quietly retreated back into the building, as to not be seen. With slow movements, he made his way from the roof to the ground floor, wanting to keep a closer eye on this mysterious woman.

drip - original

The sounds in this damned lighthouse are going to drive her crazy in her last moments. The dripping from the waterlogged walls and ceiling along with the wet stuttering of her own breaths are not what she wanted to hear.

This was not how she imagined this situation would go. This is not how she imagined she would die.

I've got problems(sung like the mother mother song) - original

Oh.

I don't think she's here to help me.

That was the last thought I had before the thing squeezed its hand and everything went black.

dog days are over - gravity falls, alice in borderland

Still, Dipper tries to think reasonably about why everyone on the street would be gone. Maybe they had to evacuate? He walks down the neighborhoods surrounding his and knocks and rings bells on every door he can. When absolutely no one answers he decides to check the rest of town. He thinks about what might be open at this time of night. He goes and checks the restaurant and grocery store. Dipper even goes to the museum but can’t find anyone. Maybe it was an emergency evacuation?

With no one around he decides to go back home. At least being there will bring him some comfort.

silence is fear - the backrooms, liminal spaces

Very Unsettling. That's the only way to describe this place. He'd been sitting here for god knows how long, scared to move on. He isn't even sure why he's scared; there's nothing really jumping out to him. Maybe that's why he's feeling so paranoid. The fact that everything seems normal but he knows that it isn't.

[thepeacefulgarden]

[scarecrows-mocking-birb]

Answer: Since the mother only had to carry her 12 more weeks, the baby was ~6 months along, so the process was clump of cells (1-3 months, according to NCCIH, brain and heart not entirely made yet), "ma'am your baby has a tumor, but there's a way to fix it." (4-6, baby now kicking inside and everything), "congratulations, it's a girl!" (9 months, now properly born)

This shouldn't be hard to understand. Please retake middle school if you don't understand.

In 2016, doctors operated on a pregnant woman so they could remove a tumor from her baby. To do it, they took the baby out of her womb for 20 minutes. The mother carried it for another 12 weeks and gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

[shima-draws]

I’ve mentioned it before but I’m a fucking sucker for unhealthy dependent relationships. There’s just something about them that is so. Chef’s kiss 👌

Anyway I’m still thinking about how Law was so attached to Cora and was so traumatized by his death that he literally devoted thirteen YEARS of his life to revenge killing Doflamingo. Even though all Cora ever wanted was for Law to just be free and live his life happily. And Law spending all his time in a hateful revenge spiral is literally the exact OPPOSITE of what Cora wanted for him. BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE. If the thirteen years of endless devotion to avenging his savior wasn’t enough Law 1. Named his pirate crew the Heart Pirates in honor of Cora, 2. Covered himself in permanent heart-themed tattoos in honor of Cora, and 3. Fashioned his Jolly Roger to be a mockery of Doflamingo’s and ALSO to honor Cora. Homie is a walking memorial for a man he only really knew for six months and again crafted the most intricate plan known to mankind to murder Cora’s killer. Because losing Cora fucked him up THAT much. Because even though Cora set him free, the moment Doflamingo shot him Law was chained to the memory of a man who no longer existed. Law literally fashioned his entire life down to his own appearance after Cora and it makes me so insane. I cannot even imagine what went through his head after Dressrosa I mean how do you move on after a thirteen year grudge is put to rest. What is he supposed to do now. Avenging Cora was literally his entire existence, his entire reason for living for half of his life. He needs therapy probably. If Cora somehow ever did come back to life Law would lose his fucking mind. The dependency is SO unhealthy and I am SO here for it

[necrotic-nephilim]

au for the ask game: omegaverse where omega dick grooms ealry-presented alpha tim in "prodigal son"

dick is going through one of the worst periods of his life after breaking up his wedding with kory (maybe she, like a tamaran, couldn't understand the secondary gender of humans and during the breakup said something bad about dick as an omega) and then tim appears with stars in his eyes and believes that dick is the best human being on earth.

bonus points if the society has progressed enough and mating with children is strictly prohibited, even if they present early.

for the ask game!

gdfdsfdgbf anon i'm kissing you on the mouth. this is my favorite flavor of Omegaverse, especially for DickTim. i'm a proud believer in the dominant omega!Dick/submissive alpha!Tim propaganda. also a big fan of how terrible Dick's life is during Batman: Prodigal. and i just. man i love the Omegaverse concepts of alien characters like Kory not understanding secondary gender and it causing rifts.

what's fun about the Prodigal era is just how isolated Tim and Dick are during it. Bruce is off.. being fucking Bruce, and Alfred is also away, so it's really just Dick and Tim for a bit. they've always worked with each other and have a repertoire, but a lot of the conversations they have about each other's pasts are happening for the first time. so it's such a fun time for Tim to present as an alpha. and of course, his hero worship for Dick (especially after having to deal with Jean-Paul) makes it so *easily* for Dick to just. slip his fingers into. Dick's isolated from the Titans, he's lost Kory, he's on the rocks with Bruce, and so there's just something so nice about this kid who still holds utter faith in him. he doesn't see any of the societal stereotypes about omegas in Dick, he just sees Dick. and then, he presents and he trusts *Dick* with that information, lets Dick guide him through the most awkward parts of presenting. how can Dick not want to take advantage of that? a young, fresh alpha who he's currently in charge of mentoring, with no one to stop Dick or notice what he's doing.

it's still tricky, of course. Dick not only has to make sure he's not breaking the law, but he also has to keep Tim from noticing, immediately. Tim's hero worship crush is the most obvious thing about him, but that doesn't mean Dick can jump on him. it needs careful time and planning. Bruce might not be around, but Tim still has his dad who could notice the scent of an omega on Tim. so instead of marking Tim, Dick starts marking himself with Tim's scent. it starts small, using the same blanket Tim has used in the Batcave, grabbing a couple of Tim's oversized hoodies and wearing them. things with plausible enough deniability, but enough that Tim starts to subconsciously associate his scent with Dick. when he can't smell himself on Dick he feels like something is wrong. and when he's finally brave enough to bring it up to Dick, Dick is able to spin it on Tim. make it seem like Tim is the one coming onto Dick, assuming things. Dick plays it cool, pretending to be shocked by the idea of it. he gently explains to Tim what he could be implying about their relationship and Tim is *mortified*, apologizing and tripping over himself to try and fix it. but Dick just calms him down, promises Tim he isn't mad bc hey, Tim is a fresh alpha and he presented so *young*, it's difficult to navigate.

so you have Dick offering to help navigate this with Tim and using it to get closer and closer to Tim. grooming him into the type of alpha that Dick wants in a relationship. anytime there's behavior in Tim that Dick doesn't like, Dick can pretty easily redirect by dropping comments about how Tim just "can't help" acting like this because of his alpha nature, which instantly makes Tim scramble to fix it. Dick likes Tim for who he is, this cute, sweet kid who's such a handsome little alpha. but he's rough around the edges and Dick puts it on himself to smooth those edges over. he's playing the long game with this, and he doesn't mind waiting it out. and Tim can't complain when Dick pushes the boundaries, making him uncomfortable, because he doesn't want Dick to think he's a *pervert* for thinking that way. it's one big mind game.

i do think, Dick would cave and sleep with Tim before Tim's an adult. he's smart enough not to mate Tim, and he's definitely smart enough not to sleep with Tim enough for Bruce, a beta, to notice what's going on. but when some sort of sex pollen incident triggers a simultaneous heat and rut for Dick and Tim respectively, it's the most convenient in that Dick needs. Dick acts like they're doing this out of necessity, that he's giving in even though he doesn't want to, just because of how Tim's acting under the aphrodisiac. it gives him complete control over the sex because Tim is so desperate to not give in to his "alpha ways" and hurt Dick by being violent or animalistic. Dick gets to pin Tim down, possibly even tie him down "for his own safety" and ride him until Tim is a crying mess under Dick. after the first time, if Dick orchestrates more scenarios where they end up in "fuck or die" situations well, it's not like anyone's noticing. at the height, he even manages to have sex with Tim without that sort of pretense, he just has to act like he can tell how needy Tim is and sigh, pretending he's the one doing Tim a favor "just this once" by letting Tim fuck him.

in the end, it's a long con that pays off. it takes until Battle for the Cowl but Tim's a legal adult. and Dick is Batman again, which really does feel like everything coming full circle. part of the reason Dick makes Damian Robin is to remove the pretense of Tim and Dick being sidekick and mentor. it makes it easier for Dick to insist he really does see Tim as a full adult (even if he doesn't, deep down. Tim is still a fresh teenager, just because it's legal doesn't make it any less morally questionable) and something more than Robin. Dick makes a comment about them being mates so offhandedly it makes Tim stop in his tracks. Tim, who's about to go on his Red Robin arc and isolate himself, now has a chance at being mates with his hero. a chance to smooth over their differences and be actual equal partners. of course, Tim jumps on it. maybe deep down, after they mate and Dick is all too pleased with himself, it clicks for Tim that this was all a set-up. he puts the pieces together while they're cuddling in bed. he knows deep down that Dick will never *actually* see him as an equal. but, the deed is done and if Tim is going to give himself over to anyone, of course it's going to be Dick Grayson.

[kacievvbbbb]

Just one of the many great tragedies of Mishanks' relationship is that sometimes Shanks wants to feel wanted just as he is, that even beyond the strength he is worth the effort he is worth being loved and unfortunately that just isn't something Mihawk can over him it's just not something he can do, not as he is now at least. That's a level of emotional maturity that he just does not possess to be able to disentangle the strength from the man that makes no sense to him. Strength is all there is. Shanks is a person, has a life outside of his strength, his power is just another aspect of who he is but for Mihawk strength is his whole person, if he is not strong then he is nothing. If shanks is not strong well then....he's nothing to him.

And God that's a lonely way to live.

[the-tomcat-disposable]

Blacked out

Summary: Detective got blackout drunk one night and Waldo decided to check in.

TW: alcoholism, death of a loved one mentioned, unhealthy relationship (well, you're reading a waldotective fic, so.. That's why you're here, right?)

There's a good dose of Waldo being gentle with the detective.

Fics referenced; You can’t win me, I can’t be beat (chapter 2) by @whenthedeeppurplefalls, and Peek-A-Boo and Sleepover by artmolonara

Read them please.

The sun had begun setting, bringing Waldo back to that day again, when his clones payed his detective's wife a visit. The terror on the detective's face and smell of absolute fear when he told them that their family was in danger was addictive. He'll never forget how fast the detective bolted out the door, not caring slightly about who they had to shove out of the way as they reached the car and took off, sirens blaring as they disobeyed every traffic law to get home as fast as possible.

The kick that he got out of the detective's terror and despair since that day had sustained him for a very long while, and occasionally when it wasn't enough, he'd stake out the detective's house to wait until they left so that he could teleport himself inside and get a proper look through.

The detective left their son alone in his crib for unspecified periods of time on occasion, sometimes to handle a case (that wasn't Waldo's— which he was very displeased with) and sometimes to run a quick errand. It was during these times that Waldo would occasionally stop by to rummage through the detective's belongings, and if Jr began making noise, he would entertain the child until it was nap time again. Their favorite games were peekaboo and Waldo tried to teach him how to say his name, to not avail (yet).

Waldo had been wandering out of sight for about 4 or 5 hours. The moon has been up for some time and watched the detective's routine through a window plenty of times to know that they had put Jr to sleep by now and popped open a bottle of alcohol or a few and switched the TV on. He had hoped to catch one of the detective's other suspects "by mistake" and scare them into turning themselves in, but none seemed to dare target his detective anymore after the last one who did had "mysteriously" died in their cell, so Waldo decided to check in on the detective... not out of concern, of course, but to make sure that they were still actively playing in his game.

So that's what Waldo did. He stalked his way to the detective's house and listened for the detective's snoring before swirling his cane and teleporting inside once the television made enough noise to disguise that of Waldo's entrance. He took a moment to breathe in the smell of what once was a gruesome crime scene— and his best one yet, if he said so himself.

'How ironic, a "living" room that once had a corpse in it!' Waldo chuckled. He glanced down at the several empty bottles on the table with a scoff and then to the detective's sleeping body on the couch, watching the much shorter figure twitch uncomfortably. For a moment, Waldo wondered if he should wake the detective from their nightmare, but decided against it. Not often does Waldo have an opportunity to get a nice, long look at his little mouse.

He didn't know what compelled him to do such a thing, but he found himself moving to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, his face inches away from his detective's. He may have moved closer if the detective didn't suddenly jolt. That damned heap of electrical tissue thinks that whatever horrific scenarios it can make the detective live through in a nightmare are more horrific than the fear that Waldo can cause them while they're conscious!

Waldo scoffed, imagining what sorry attempt of terror was happening inside the detective's mind. Regardless of whatever it was, he would prefer if the detective was awake for it. Trying not to wake them, Waldo reached out a hand to cup the detective's face. His heart— or whatever he had in place of one— fluttered when the detective's face leaned into his palm and his body began to relax.

Waldo was unfamiliar with this feeling, and wasn't sure if he wanted to explore it further, but he remained there for hours, with his little mouse in his claws (literally), though they didn't close around them for just once. He occasionally ran his hand through the detective's rough hair, noticing a few grey strands. Being a now single father thanks to Waldo truly must difficult. He only hoped that this wouldn't distract the detective, as he should always be their top priority.

Waldo groaned and stood up, disappointed at the fact that his time here would be ending soon. In a few minutes, Jr would wake the detective up with a loud cry. The detective would stumble to tend to their son, and then stumble to their bedroom and fall asleep once again the moment he hit the bed. He picked up his cane and walked back behind the couch, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder at the detective's now peaceful form. He will enjoy watching the detective struggle through the day with the painful, grief-induced hangover that he will surely have— the thought of which amused him.

"Goodbye for now, detective. Our game is not over. I am sure you will know what to do when the time comes. You are much more skilled than your peers," Waldo spoke to the unconscious detective, before spinning his cane and teleporting with a flash. Moments later, Jr's cries awoke them, and as they stumbled to his room, they couldn't shake the feeling that something happened that caused their nightmare to subside. Waldo peered through a window as the detective shook their head and supported themselves with the wall, then faded away into the darkness of the night with a hint of a grin.

He will return eventually, but not anytime soon.

...

@thatoneweirdowhoknowstoomuch wanted to be tagged

[malrie]

the thing abt liper in general too though is that it’s probably the one couple that if canonically they did get together after jason died literally no one would support them LOL. that is the hard truth. not many ppl were leo’s biggest fans in the first place but the second he gets together w piper it’s like ohhh god you guys need therapy boo tomato tomato. piper snap out of it this isn’t you etc.. piper is again the only tlh favorite so it just makes sense they’d be protective. and also liper would just come across to everyone as clearly self-destructive with how insular they become bc hello…why wouldn’t they end up that way they’re crazy.

annabeth leaving 3882743 iris message recordings to piper: pleasplease gods he’s so bad for you break up with himmmmmm *cryign and throwing up*

percy, adding on: ive been talking with nico and maybe there is a way to resurrect jason don’t get too hasty now ok piper *dad chuckle* let’s not make bad life decisions here…

[oranges-and-peaches]

here's a snippet and the link to the new story i wrote about the bloody mary girl from jazzpunk:

Do people not show this man gratitude for being kind and helping them out? She doesn’t think about it too much and quickly slurps down the drink, trying to keep her face from scrunching up at the taste. Not wanting to upset the man that was trying to do good, She forced a smile on her face and told him how yummy it was. The man walks away looking just about as confused as she was.

remember to always check the tags when it comes to my stories

[melblogsgfreethruptsd]

[thepeacefulgarden]

[inevitablysomber-dark]

The Price of Success

Dark! Peter Parker x Clementine! Reader

Summary: Clementine has fought tooth and nail to achieve her dream of attending a prestigious university. Balancing her demanding workload, a suffocating home life, and financial strain, she’ll do whatever it takes to stay afloat. Enter Peter Parker: wealthy, charming, and unexpectedly fixated on her. When he offers a proposition that could solve all her problems, Clementine reluctantly agrees—unaware she’s stepping into a carefully constructed trap. What begins as a transactional relationship spirals into something far darker as Peter’s true intentions come to light.

Warnings: This story contains dark themes, including manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, non-consensual elements, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, loss of autonomy, familial neglect, and power imbalances. Please read at your own discretion.

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Series Masterlist

The acceptance letter had been the happiest moment of my life. A full scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country. I’d held that envelope in my hands like it was a golden ticket to freedom, the first real step toward building the life I’d always dreamed of.

The excitement didn’t last long.

Reality hit the moment I read the fine print: the scholarship only covered tuition. Books, fees, transportation—those were on me. And then there was the rent. My parents had made it clear they expected me to contribute if I was going to live under their roof, and I couldn’t argue. Their obvious favoritism toward my sister Mandarin aside, they were still housing and feeding me, even if they did make it obvious how much they preferred their elder daughter.

So, I juggled everything I could. Work-study shifts at the library, odd jobs on weekends, and tutoring sessions during the evenings. Every dollar was carefully calculated, every spare moment filled with something productive. I couldn’t afford distractions—not if I wanted to stay ahead.

Most of my tutoring clients were typical: students trying to keep their heads above water, hoping I could help them avoid flunking out of calculus or pass their literature midterms. And then there was Peter.

Peter Parker was the anomaly.

One of the wealthiest students on campus, heir to Stark & Parker, and seemingly brilliant, it made no sense for him to need tutoring, especially from me. Yet there he was, week after week, with his easy smile and an energy that made it hard not to notice him. He was always happy to see me, greeting me like an old friend, even when I was running on fumes.

I didn’t get it. People like him didn’t usually cross paths with people like me, and they certainly didn’t pay me to help them with things they could easily hire professionals for. He had come to the school with his high school sweetheart, MJ, but I’d stopped seeing them together as much lately. Not that I cared. Peter’s personal life wasn’t any of my business, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Every time my mind tried to wander to why Peter always booked sessions or what had happened with MJ, I stopped myself. I had bigger priorities: scraping together enough money for books this semester, keeping my GPA high enough to maintain my scholarship, and balancing work-study shifts with my other jobs. I didn’t need another puzzle to solve, and Peter Parker wasn’t worth the mental energy.

“Thanks for squeezing me in,” Peter said one evening, setting his bag on the desk as he took a seat across from me. His grin was as warm and casual as ever, like he hadn’t just walked out of a glossy magazine shoot.

“No problem,” I said, pulling out my notes and forcing myself to focus. “What are we working on today?”

The corners of his mouth tugged up as he leaned back, looking way too relaxed. “You know, the usual. Just trying to stay sharp.”

I rolled my eyes internally but kept my tone professional. If he wanted to throw money at me for sessions he didn’t need, I wasn’t going to complain.

I pushed through the front door, exhaustion hanging off me like a weight. My legs ached from crisscrossing campus all day, my bag felt like it was filled with bricks, and all I wanted to do was to collapse in my bed. It had been one of those days where the thought of quiet and solitude was the only thing keeping me moving.

The house was quieter than usual. The TV wasn’t on, and for once, there weren’t any shouting matches or background noises of Mandarin’s baby shower planning blasting through the walls. I didn’t think much of it as I made my way upstairs, kicking off my shoes as I went.

The hallway was too still. A chill ran down my spine as I approached my room, the door cracked open just slightly. Something was off.

When I pushed it open all the way, the breath hitched in my throat.

Gone.

Everything.

My bed, my desk, my books, even the posters I’d spent hours arranging, were all gone. The walls were bare, and the closet door was hanging half-open to reveal emptiness. In the corner, a few boxes with my name hastily scrawled across them sat stacked like afterthoughts.

“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath. My pulse started racing as I backed into the hallway. “Mom? Dad?”

I followed the faint sound of voices to Mandarin’s room. The door was wide open, and there they were: Mom, Dad, and Mandarin, chatting like nothing was out of the ordinary. Mandarin sat on her bed, flipping through a baby catalog, while Dad held a measuring tape and gestured toward the window.

Mom glanced over her shoulder when I stepped into the doorway. “Oh, Clementine. You’re home.”

“Yeah, I’m home,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Where’s all my stuff?”

Dad straightened, tucking the measuring tape into his pocket. “It’s in the basement. We talked about this.”

“No,” I said firmly, “we didn’t talk about anything.”

Mandarin didn’t even bother looking up from her magazine. “Come on, Clem. You spend all your time at school anyways.”

I ignored her, keeping my focus on my parents. “Why is my stuff in the basement?”

Mom gave me that dismissive look I knew too well. “Mandarin needs more space with the baby coming. It made the most sense.”

“The basement smells like mold,” I shot back, my voice rising. “It’s not even finished!”

“Then you can figure something else out,” Dad said, his tone flat and final. “We’re not here to argue about this. You have options.”

I stared at him, trying to process the audacity. “Oh, do I? What options?”

“Stay in the basement,” he said, crossing his arms, “or find somewhere else to live.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Of course. Right. Because heaven forbid Mandarin doesn’t get everything handed to her on a silver platter.”

“Clementine, stop,” Mom snapped, her tone sharp. “Your sister is pregnant, and she needs our support right now. It’s time you learned to compromise.”

I felt my teeth clench, the anger bubbling under my skin. “Compromise,” I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Got it.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and headed downstairs. When I reached the basement, the smell hit me immediately—stale and damp, like wet concrete that never dried. Flicking on the light, I took in the sight of my life crammed into a dank corner: boxes stacked haphazardly, my mattress leaning against the wall, and a few trash bags stuffed with my clothes and books.

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The corners of the room were shadowy, and the single overhead bulb flickered weakly. This wasn’t a bedroom. This wasn’t even close.

I let out a long, steadying breath and started sifting through the mess. My boxes were stacked precariously, a mix of clothes, books, and random knickknacks crammed together like afterthoughts. The mattress leaned against the damp wall, taunting me with its mildew-stained edges.

As much as I hated the thought of it, I knew I had no other choice tonight. I rummaged through the chaos until I found a dusty, folded plastic tarp shoved into one corner of the basement. I shook it out, coughing as a cloud of stale air hit me. It wasn’t much, but it would keep the mattress from soaking up any more of the dampness.

I laid the tarp out on the floor, smoothing it over the cracked concrete before dragging the mattress on top of it. It creaked under my weight as I tested it, the smell of mold and stale air hitting me harder now that I was so close to the floor. My stomach churned, but I forced myself to breathe through my mouth.

“It’s fine,” I whispered to myself, my voice thin in the silence. “You’ll figure this out, you always do.”

I grabbed a blanket from one of the boxes, wrapped it around me, and tried to settle in. The basement was cold, and the air felt heavier down here, like it was pressing down on me with every shallow breath. My head sank into my pillow, and I stared up at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling.

I closed my eyes, willing my mind to quiet. But the thoughts kept coming.

I couldn’t afford to let this situation derail me. My future—the stability I was working towards—was too important.

The smell of mold lingered as I drifted off, and for the first time in a long time, I prayed for morning to come quickly.

The alarm on my phone buzzed like an angry wasp, dragging me from a restless sleep. I groaned, swiping at it clumsily until the noise stopped. The single bulb overhead flickered weakly, casting uneven light over the room. I rubbed my eyes, the musty smell of the basement making my throat feel tight. The mattress under me offered little relief from the cold floor despite the plastic tarp I’d laid down beneath it. My back protested as I sat up, every joint stiff from another uncomfortable night.

“Just get through today,” I whispered to myself, my voice sounding hollow in the empty space.

I shuffled to the corner where I kept my bag and rummaged for something clean to wear. Most of my clothes were wrinkled and smelled faintly of the basement’s dampness no matter how much fabric softener I used. I settled on a hoodie and jeans, pulling them on quickly as the clock on my phone reminded me, I was already behind schedule. I grabbed a granola bar from the box near my bed and forced myself to eat it as I climbed the stairs to the kitchen.

The house was quiet—eerily so. I should’ve been relieved, but instead, it put me on edge. I finished the granola bar in a few quick bites, rinsed my hands in the sink, and stuffed my bag with a notebook, my second-hand laptop, and a couple of pens.

As I made my way to the door, Mandarin’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “Clementine.”

She stood at the end of the hallway, perfectly put together as always, her swollen belly barely slowing her down. Her phone was in one hand, her other propped on her hip. She didn’t bother looking up as she spoke, her tone clipped and dismissive.

“Don’t forget the baby shower is next month. Mom wants you to help set up. You know, since you don’t have much else going on.”

My jaw clenched, but I forced a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Her eyes finally met mine, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re always so busy, aren’t you?”

I didn’t reply, brushing past her and heading for the door. Mandarin had mastered the art of making me feel small with the least amount of effort. She didn’t need to yell or insult me outright. She just needed to exist in a way that constantly reminded me how little I mattered in this house.

Outside, the brisk morning air was a sharp contrast to the damp, stale air of the basement. I took a deep breath, relishing the momentary freedom, before starting my trek to campus. By the time I arrived, I was already late for my shift at the library.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I slipped behind the counter. My supervisor gave me a brief, disapproving look but didn’t say anything.

The next few hours passed in a blur of shelving books, organizing returns, and answering questions from students who were as lost as I often felt. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was steady, and every dollar I earned brought me closer to buying the textbooks I still needed for class. I made a mental note to check the used bookstore near campus on my next day off.

When my shift ended, I barely had time to grab a sandwich before heading to my tutoring session. My stomach growled as I unwrapped it, taking quick bites as I hurried across campus. The bread was stale, the meat thin, but it was enough to keep me going for a little while longer.

This was my life now—rushing from one responsibility to the next, with no time to breathe or even think. There was no room for error, no margin for rest. And I couldn’t afford to let myself slow down. Not when the alternative was falling behind and losing everything, I’d been working so hard for.

The next few weeks passed in a haze of monotony and exhaustion. My days blurred together: rushing from work-study shifts to odd jobs, tutoring sessions squeezed in wherever I could manage, and nights spent trying to catch up on coursework. Sleep became an afterthought, something I craved but never seemed to have enough time for. Home was no better—a pit stop between the chaos, where I was reminded of how little space I occupied in my family’s lives.

One evening, I dragged myself through the front door, my bag heavy on my shoulder and my legs screaming for a break. Mandarin was sprawled across the couch, her swollen belly propped up like a badge of honor. She held a tub of ice cream in one hand, her other arm draped over the back of the couch. Her eyes flicked up as I walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“You know,” she started, her voice taking on that patronizing tone I hated, “you could chip in more around here. Mom and Dad are already doing so much for you.”

I dropped my bag by the stairs, forcing myself to stay calm. “I pay rent,” I said flatly.

She snorted, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Barely,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Meanwhile, I have a baby on the way.”

Before I could respond, Mom’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Clementine, would you come here please.”

I sighed, glancing toward the kitchen doorway. “What is it?” I asked, already bracing myself.

Mom appeared, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her expression already irritated. “Your sister’s been working so hard on her baby shower,” she said, her tone pointed. “The least you could do is help her with the invitations. She needs you right now.”

“I have an essay to write,” I said simply, turning toward the basement stairs.

Mom’s tone sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife. “You can write your essay later, Clementine. Mandarin needs you.”

I froze for a moment, the words hanging between us like a challenge. My jaw clenched as I looked at her, but I swallowed the anger rising in my chest. “I’ll help later,” I muttered, not waiting for a response as I descended the stairs.

The basement felt even colder than usual, the cold air clinging to my skin as I dropped my bag on the makeshift desk I’d cobbled together from an old table and a stack of boxes. I sat down heavily, staring at the flickering light overhead. Help her? Mandarin doesn’t even pay rent. She barely lifts a finger around the house, but somehow, I’m the one who’s supposed to be bending over backward?

I rubbed my temples, trying to push the frustration aside. There was no point in dwelling on it. If I let myself spiral, I’d lose the focus I desperately needed to make it through another day. I pulled out my laptop and opened my notes for class, forcing my mind to zero in on my essay.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I found myself staring at the blank screen, the weight of everything pressing down on me. This house. This family. I was falling apart.

Peter was already seated at our usual spot in the library when I arrived for our tutoring session. The sunlight streaming through the large windows gave the place a serene glow, but I barely noticed as I dragged myself toward the table, my bag feeling heavier than usual.

“Hey, Clementine!” Peter greeted, his voice cheerful and unmistakably chipper. He stood up slightly, pulling out the chair across from him. “How’s it going?”

I dropped my bag onto the table and slid into the seat without much fanfare. “Busy,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “What do you want to go over today?”

He leaned back casually, his ever-present grin plastered on his face. “The usual. I’m still stuck on those problem sets.”

I glanced at him, skeptical. His notes were neatly written, his assignments impeccably organized. “You’re doing fine,” I said, flipping through his work. “Honestly, I’m not sure you even need me.”

He laughed lightly, shrugging as though he hadn’t just paid for another session he didn’t actually need. “What can I say? I like having the extra help.”

As we worked through the material, Peter’s tone stayed light, his questions a mix of academic and personal. “So,” he said, tapping his pen against the edge of the table, “how’s school treating you? Surviving the semester?”

“Barely,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the textbook.

“What about after graduation?” he pressed. “Got any big plans?”

I kept my answers clipped. “Hopefully a job in my field. That’s the goal, then I can work from there.”

He didn’t push, just nodded thoughtfully. For a moment, I wondered if he could sense how little I wanted to talk about myself.

Halfway through the session, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you ever, like, take a break? Just... relax?”

I snorted. “Who has time for that?”

His grin widened, but there was a flicker of something more serious in his expression. “Maybe you should make time. You work too hard. I can tell”

I froze for a second, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity in his voice. “Yeah, well,” I said, closing his textbook with a definitive thud, “not everyone has the luxury of coasting through life.”

The words came out sharper than I intended, and I immediately regretted it. But Peter didn’t flinch. Instead, he nodded slowly, his smile softening. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone calm and understanding.

When the session was over, I quickly began packing up my things, eager to move on to the next thing on my endless to-do list. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter watching me, his gaze steady and unreadable.

As I slung my bag over my shoulder, a fleeting thought crossed my mind: What was Peter’s deal? Why was he always so cheerful, so eager to chat during these sessions?

I shook my head, pushing the thoughts aside. I didn’t have time to dwell on Peter Parker’s personal life. My own life was more than enough to keep me occupied.

“Thanks, Clementine,” Peter said as I turned to leave, his tone as bright as ever.

“See you next week,” I replied over my shoulder, already mentally bracing myself for whatever came next.

Late one night, after a long shift at the library, I sat cross-legged on my mattress, staring at my scholarship paperwork. The dim glow from my desk lamp illuminated the pages, the words blurring together as exhaustion weighed heavy on my eyes. Still, I forced myself to keep reading.

This scholarship was my lifeline. Without it, there’d be no way for me to stay in school, no future worth fighting for. I thought back to the moment I got the acceptance letter, that surge of joy and relief. At the time, it felt like my hard work was finally paying off. Now, that joy felt like a distant memory, swallowed by the relentless pressure of keeping everything afloat.

The buzz of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. A notification from my bank app lit up the screen, the pitiful balance mocking me with every digit. Textbooks, rent, and now the looming cost of Mandarin’s baby shower decorations, all of it hung over me like a storm cloud.

I sighed, setting the phone down and running a hand through my hair. “One step at a time,” I whispered to myself. “Just get through this semester.”

The basement around me was far from ideal, but I’d done my best to make it livable. Rugs covered the cold, damp floor, and a string of fairy lights provided a soft glow that made the space feel a little less suffocating. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had for now.

As I sorted through a box of books, a faint creak from the pipes overhead caught my attention. I paused, looking up at the exposed plumbing that crisscrossed the ceiling. A tiny drip escaped, landing on the corner of the box I’d just unpacked, leaving a dark spot on the cardboard.

“Great,” I muttered, pulling the box out of the way and wiping the damp spot with my sleeve.

Grabbing an old towel from the pile of laundry in the corner, I tossed it over the wet patch on the floor. My gaze lingered on the pipes, frowning at the faint groans that echoed through the basement. I made a mental note to talk to Dad about it, though I already knew how that conversation would go. He’d probably shrug it off, tell me to figure it out myself.

I sank back onto the mattress, staring at the low ceiling above me as the sounds of the house settled into an uneasy silence. The groaning pipes, the faint drip of water, the muffled noises of Mandarin’s TV upstairs—it all blurred into white noise.

“This is temporary,” I whispered, clutching the blanket tightly. “Just a stepping stone. I just have to be patient.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra I repeated like a lifeline. But as the pipes creaked again and the damp air pressed against my lungs, I couldn’t ignore the gnawing doubt in the back of my mind. How long could I keep telling myself that?

[loopdile]

transcription under the cut!

The worst ship chart ever.

Ship name: Loopdile

[insert very tiny math] Ages: 43 and 31? Age difference: 8?

Portrait of Odile with an eyebrow raised saying "I'm not telling." Name: Odile. Gender: trans woman (maybe nb but idrc rn). Sexuality: Aro lesbian.

Portrait of Loop with a finger raised saying "I'm not telling~" Name: Loop. Gender: Nonbinary (??? what is identity). Sexuality: Ace bi

General sliders. "Relationship starts quickly vs the slowest burn you can possibly imagine" is marked fairly close to slowly and trails off towards slow burn. "They'll be together forever vs They'll break up after 2 months tops" has two marks, one at 2 months and one really close to forever. "Cute couple vs dear god they're ugly" is marked a quarter slider away from cute. "Reasonably healthy and normal relationship vs They're dying and getting killed and hurt man" has a wide mark all the way from the halfway point to a quarter away from healthy. "Extremely popular ship vs literally no one ships this but me" is marked fairly close to no one.

Specific sliders. "Giddy and happy to be in love vs they just killed themselves 40 times in their head at the idea of being in love" has loop at died and odile fairly close to died. "The madoka vs the homura" has loop at homura and odile a third of the slider away. "Telling anyone who will listen about their partner vs rarely brings up that they're in a relationship" has loop a quarter away from telling anyone and odile fairly close to rarely. "eats and/or encourages a healthy diet vs eats dry instant noodles only" has loop at noodles and odile a third away from healthy. "crazy ass vs truck freak" has loop at crazy ass and odile fairly close to truck freak.

Tell me why your ship is interesting... go!

What draws them together? Odile is the only motherfucker that can handle them; Loop is weird and intriguing.

What stands in the way? Poor communication skills; Loop is clingy but Odile often needs space; Loop lashes out and self-isolates.

What are their good traits? They're both hilarious and dedicated to the bit; they're both devoted to their loved ones.

What makes them hopeless at romance? Odile is aro-spec and uninterested in romance; Loop both hates/fears and craves romance; Luckily they can just be something stranger!

Describe them with one trope: found family, deadpan x emotional, secret third thing, I'll protect you from yourself.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Otome au-Character introduction: Rollo Flamm

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR GLORIOUS MASQUERADE EVENT, Yandere themes, death, murder, implied stalking, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, violence, family problems

Position:

Judge of the city of flowers

Backstory:

It was no secret that judge Rollo had a rather… radical streak when it came to magic users. Whenever he could hear someone utter a spell, or simply someone voicing that they liked magic did not matter. Although, you did earn a pityfull look from him before being questioned if you knew someone with the ability to wield magic if you were a normal person. No magic. Simply normal.

Judge Rollo despised magic. It took and burned everything away like the destructive force it was. And as such, the young judge saw himself in a position in which he needed to be equally as destructive when it came to cleansing the world of that power. Even if it meant lying to himself. Although less lying, more like burying a part of him deep below where even the ghosts of the dead could not reach. Rollo was aware that he was also someone “impure”, someone tainted by magic.

Although sometimes he remembered a small boy, equally as stained and yet also so full of light.

If only the light hadn’t gotten burned to ashes.

How did he become Self-aware?

The process of noticing that this world was controlled by a higher power on a whim was something he did not start on his own. Quite the contrary. One day when Rollo was once more looking over papers, trying to get some sort of order into the sea of pure chaos on his desk, a place always seemingly to be full with these, he did notice something odd though.

Hadn’t he seen this case before? But it wasn’t noted down in the records. Then why was he so certain the lead investigator had been given a large sum of money to hide details, leading to an innocent person being locked away?

And like this it began. At first Rollo thought that it was his “impurity” which told him these things. Much later though he did notice that this was not the case. A strange individual set foot into his beautifull city, bringing with them the wind of foregin lands. Rollo heard a voice saying something along the lines of finally getting the DLC, whatever that was, even though the stranger did not talk.

As such his descend into the depths of the truth of this world started but if he was honest, he didn’t mind. He did not mind as he flung a spell at someone, making them breathe their last breath all so they wouldn’t get between him figuring out who, no what kind of enigma, you were. He did not mind to do all of that as long as he could follow that light at the end of the tunnel, you.

To not even meant to be part of your path throuh this world and yet to foster such feelings, wouldn’t it be only fair for him to act upon them?

[the-healing-mindset]

"Not knowing how to be in a healthy relationship because of what you witnessed is traumatic." This post from Nedra Tawwab hits home in so many ways. For some of us, it really hurts to discover that we don't know the first thing about relationship dynamics, how relationships are meant to work, and how to protect ourselves when dealing with other people.

Most of the times, this discovery comes about when we are interested in becoming close to another person but find ourselves deeply insecure about how we should show up to the connection, ultimately causing us to back away, or try too hard for those who are not good for us. This potentially leads us into more distressing situations, if not wholly traumatic.