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tigergirltail · 2 months ago

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TIGER HRT CHAPTER 6 - MONTH 6 - THE CAGED BIRD

CONTENT WARNING - This chapter contains mentions of medical injections, bigotry, child abuse, self-harm, and attempted suicide. Reader beware.

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

I had my six-month check-up with Dr. Erian, an online appointment just like last time. No particular medical issues this time around, bloodwork checks out, genetic reconfiguration is stable. We can't do a thorough physical exam over the internet, but according to him, I am "the very picture of health, by the standards of your species". I'm a bit curious what standards those are, given that I have yet to hear about any other tiger therians. Hopefully there ARE standards, and he's not just giving me empty reassurance.

We also spent some time going over dietary concerns - am I getting enough meat, am I reducing my fruit and grain intake appropriately, that sort of thing. I assured him that I'm eating real meat with every meal, just like the booklet said to, I've been limiting fruits and vegetables, and I don't even have an appetite for anything grain-based. I'll probably miss what fresh bread used to be like, but I just can't bring myself to want it anymore. Apparently not every therian is following the diet they're supposed to, but the doctor didn't have any concerns about me, "assuming your answers are honest, Miss Alexis". What, does he think I'm about to lie to the one person who knows how species transition works?

At one point during the discussion I thought I heard him mutter something about a "foolish undine", but I must have misheard. Undines are water spirits or elementals or something - a fictional creature. Then again, so are dragons and lamias, but the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl, and I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia. At this point you could tell me there's someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog, and I might actually believe you.

I've hit the point of full fur coverage, so no more awkward bald patches! Unfortunately, this does mean I need to start taking my estrogen in a form other than skin patches, because there's nowhere left to stick them. After a lot of agonizing over the pros and cons of potential liver damage from pills versus facing down my needle phobia, I opted to ask my endocrinologist to train me on injectable estrogen. She made a somewhat tone-deaf joke about not being trained in veterinary medicine, but she was otherwise very patient and reassuring, so I let it slide.

I do want to state for the record that I am a big scary tiger who's not afraid of anything and I only cried a little bit the first time I injected myself.

My ears are definitely becoming much more sensitive - I keep hearing really annoying high-pitch noises when I'm around heavy machinery, and that happens a lot more often than you might think. My office at work is right next to an elevator, and whenever someone uses it, the motor lets out this gods-awful whine and I have to plug my ears until it stops moving again. My local grocery also has a few freezer units that give off a similar sound, constantly, and I've had to start wearing earplugs to go on food runs.

As for visual changes, I can see in the dark reasonably well, but I've also started getting headaches and discomfort when I squint or try too hard to focus on something. I guess I should probably just… try to not do that. I have spent a significant portion of my life staring at a screen, so my eyes probably aren't in the best shape overall.

Now that my physical changes are pretty much done, most people just assume I'm wearing a very intricate costume - at least, until they get close. No costume has mouth movements or facial expressions this realistic, and believe me, our top furry scientists and engineers have tried.

At one point there's a conversation on the humanity removal chat server about the political climates in our respective areas towards therians. Obviously, a lot of the right-wing talking-head shows have been shitting themselves inside-out about the idea of people giving up their humanity, especially the ones with a more religious bent. "How dare these freaks forsake God's holy image", "Humanity is a divine blessing and must be cherished", "We call on the one true God to smite these worshippers of the Beast", and so on like that. Excuse you, but I've never worshipped your discriminatory god and I'm not beholden to their 'holy image'. My goddess is one of beauty, love, and artistic expression, and the entire reason I'm changing myself in the first place is as an expression of self-love.

Most of us agree, though, that the absolute worst of the 24-hour news cycle doesn't have anything to do with how regular everyday people see us. In fact, we're rare enough still that a decent proportion of people don't believe we exist - they think that tabloids made us up to sell more copies. I don't know if that's better in terms of acceptance, but I'll take it over a torch-and-pitchfork mob running me out of town.

The conversation shifts to us sharing our locations, those of us who are comfortable doing so at least. We generally keep it vague, but most of us are at least alright with saying which country we live in. I narrow it down to a province for myself, mainly because my province alone is larger than some countries, but also because once we start to get noticed by the media and the world, there'll probably be no stopping our locations becoming known.

It's also going to get interesting if anyone starts asking how most of us are going to the same medical provider when he requires that consultations be done in person, or why the location he operates out of - Hyper City - doesn't appear on any map. Truthfully, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself.

The next day, I get a private message from the girl with the corvid avatar:

"Hey I saw your post when everybody was talking about where they are! I live there too!! We should totally meet up sometime ^v^"

…This is a dilemma. Obviously, I'm worried about the optics of a teenager meeting up with a 39-year-old she met on the internet, there's all kinds of ways that could be taken the wrong way, but dammit, I still don't know anyone like me in this part of the world, who knows if I'll ever find anyone else who's local? …I really want to try, but I should at least give her a warning, and a judgement-free out.

"Uhh I get wanting to meet up, but I'm more than 20 years older than you, would your parents be anywhere near cool with that??"

There's a long pause. I see her start and stop typing multiple times. I'm worried I've upset her. Eventually, she sends another message:

"I don't give a fuck what they think"

I'm taken aback by the harshness of the reply, and don't manage to type anything before another series of messages pops up:

"and they don't care what I do anyway so it's whatever" "if anyone asks I'll just say you're my weird aunt" "you have no idea how bad I want to meet someone who GETS IT" "humanity is a curse and I want to be free"

'I want to be free'. Something about that phrase hits somewhere deep, in a source of pain that never fully healed. Freedom from pain, freedom from self-hatred, freedom at any cost, even if it meant my life. I remember how that desire for freedom feels.

The only thing I can think to do next is ask if she's okay. Her response is to ask if I can go on a voice call. I'm not sure if she wants some confirmation that I'm a real person or if she just doesn't want the next part of the conversation preserved in the text log.

"Hey…", I begin cautiously as the voice call starts. "Can you hear me okay?"

There's a suppressed sniffle on the other end. "Yeah… I hear you."

For a moment I entertain the thought of going all 'when I was your age' and explaining that I was always cautioned against talking to strangers on the internet, but it's probably not the time for that. Read the room, Alexis.

She's not saying anything. I'm going to have to start this off, I think. Something harmless, something value-neutral…

"So from your icon, I'm guessing you want crow HRT? Raven HRT, maybe?"

"Crow HRT.", she states simply. "Crows are everywhere here, and I've always loved them, always been jealous of them. They get to go anywhere they want, do anything they want…" She lets out a groaning sigh. "Augh, this is stupid. You probably think I'm stupid for wanting this."

I can't hold back from giving a little bit of a laugh. "Hah! Young lady, one year ago I went to a doctor and told him to his face that I wanted him to turn me into a recessive-gene variant of an endangered species that doesn't even live on this continent, and then I threatened to bite him if he wouldn't do it. Fantasizing about being a crow is just about the normalest thing I can imagine compared to that."

"…You said you'd BITE him?"

I grin, though without a camera set up she can't see it. "Every one of us who seeks out humanity removal therapy is already a little bit inhuman, even if we don't fully know it yet. After all, why would we remove something if we felt emotionally attached to it?"

Another audible sniffle. "Holy fuck, you DO get it…"

"I sure hope I get it, it's not like I can un-grow the fur and the tail."

She gives a laugh, then there's a long pause. "…Does it hurt? Is it scary?"

"Sometimes. My fingers were REALLY sore while my claws were developing, and having your entire facial structure rearrange is no joke. As for scary, well, I sure get stared at a lot more, but I think I scare people a lot more than they scare me."

"Heh, maybe I want to be scary."

I frown a little. "I don't. I just want to be true to myself."

There's an awkward silence. After a while, I decide to bring up something I was curious about:

"So I remember you asking if there was a way to get species HRT without your parents noticing. I'm guessing they're not exactly supportive?"

She lets out an uncomfortable groan. "Mmmngh… They watch a lot of those news shows, you know, the ones that only run angry sensationalist bullcrap? Dad gets furious at the idea of anyone changing themselves, something about the 'holy sanctity of the human body' or whatever. He even thinks tattoos are blasphemy. Mom says it's the most horrific thing she can imagine, she nearly fainted when she caught me watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes."

"And here you are, wanting to be a bird… I'm sorry, that sounds really rough."

"It… It is." I can hear her voice faltering. "Hearing nothing but how terrible a waste it is, and how awful and horrific they are, and the whole time knowing that I'd give ANYTHING for it to happen to me, I just… I'm sorry, I just…"

"Hey, you don't need to apologize… I'm not going anywhere."

"I just… don't know how much longer I can take it!"

"…Take what?" I'm afraid to ask my next question, but… I just have to. "…What are they doing to you??"

Somewhere deep inside her, the dam just… breaks. She starts sobbing as she tells me about how her parents yell at her over every single mistake, how she gets shoved or hit just for being in the way, how she hurts herself just so the pain gives her something to feel and to focus on, and how she… How she once climbed up to the roof of her building and took a flying leap off. She had every intention to end her own life, but in the moment her feet left the ground and she felt the air under her arms, she experienced a rush of euphoria, for the first time she can remember.

…And a moment later, she broke a leg and several ribs when she hit the ground.

She explains that she spent over a month in hospital, a captive audience for her parents to yell at more, when they even bothered to show up at all. I'm too stunned to even react.

She's spent the years since then chasing that high, climbing trees and jumping off, finding rooftops and hilltops to go stand in the wind, looking up online videos of parachuting and wingsuiting and hang gliding, and when she first heard rumours about medical treatments that can alter one's very species, she started frantically researching. That's how she started finding other therians to reach out to, how she got involved in the group chat.

"Have you… had an appointment with Dr. Erian yet?" I have a feeling I already know the answer - something something, 'letter from a physician, two psychologists, live as your preferred species for at least a year'. The same horseshit I had to listen to.

"No… I tried to get one, but he won't see anyone under 18 without parental consent, and fat chance of ever getting that."

Huh. I hadn't expected that, it feels surprisingly principled for him. Though at the end of the day, it's probably just another liability thing - ol' Teddy Erian covering his own ass as usual.

"I just…" She's started crying again. "I just want to turn into a beautiful black bird and fly away from all this, forever… I just want to live my life on the wind, going wherever I want, never having to see a single human again…"

I can feel my own tears welling up, and that's the moment I make my decision. I'm going to meet up with this girl, and I'm going to find a way to help her. Maybe she doesn't need humanity removal, maybe she just needs to know someone who understands.

We decide on a place and time to meet up. There's a little cafe I like nearby, run by a trio of neurodivergent queer women. It's a public place, and about as safe for weirdos like us as you can get. Corvid-girl tells me she'll be the one with a feathered headband and a crow-skull necklace. I tell her I'll be the one with white fur and a tail. That manages to get a laugh out of her. I choose to take that as a victory.

There's something about the way she laughs that sounds a bit like a crow's call. I wonder whether that's intentional on her part…

A few days later, I'm sitting in the cafe enjoying a hot chocolate and a roast beef sandwich - extra meat, naturally. Dr. Erian said I have to start cutting chocolate out of my diet because cocoa is going to become toxic to me, but… chocolate! I did ask for a lighter mix though, so what I'm drinking is actually mostly just hot milk. Maybe there's a cocoa-free substitute out there I can look into…

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a squeal of delight emanating from the front door. There's a teenage girl standing there, staring directly at me with a look of amazement on her face. Dark clothes, pale skin, black hair, headband with feathers in it, and hanging from her neck, an amulet in the shape of a bird skull. I smile and wave a paw at her. She practically bounces as she walks up to my table and takes a seat.

"Holy SHIT, you're… And you even have the… Your face looks just like… Can I touch your paw??"

I laugh and hold out my paw. "Haha, sure, just watch out for the claws, they don't stay all the way inside just yet."

"Oh, it's okay, I'm used to sharp things!"

I wince as I think back to our voice chat from the other day. I REALLY hope she doesn't mean what I think she means, but I can't help noticing she's wearing long sleeves, even though the weather has been getting warmer.

She turns my paw over and squeals. "OHMYGOD you even have the BEEEEANS!" I can't resist smiling as she starts poking and prodding at my pawpads. "You look SO!! AMAZING!!"

Corvid-girl starts frantically complimenting all my animalistic features - "Your stripes are so pretty!" "I love your tail!" "Ohh, your fangs, they're so COOL!!" - and I start uncontrollably blushing. I never would have thought species affirmation would feel this euphoric… Naturally, being a teenager, she takes this as an excuse to push even harder, and I start covering my face with my paws, thoroughly embarrassed.

"You look just like the tigers they have on stage for those shows in Vegas!"

"H-hey, that's actually not okay…"

"You know, I bet you'd look good up on a stage too! Everyone would love to see you!!"

Instinctually, I let out a growl, louder than I actually want to. It has the intended effect, in that she stops dead and stares at me, but so do a few other cafe patrons. Oh gods, here comes the embarrassment again… "H-hey, look, it's just…"

"Sorry." She's gone completely deadpan, and stiff as a board.

I close my eyes tightly. Gods, why did I DO that?? First the waitress at that seafood place, and now an actual CHILD. I REALLY need to start getting a handle on these predator instincts. When I open my eyes again, she's still standing there, and she looks like she's on the verge of a panic attack.

I need to calm her down, need to bring her back. "No… I'M sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I just… The animals they use for those stage shows get abused all the time, and it's kind of a sore spot for me."

"…Really?"

Okay, she's talking, she's distracted, maybe I can still salvage this. "Yeah… Every species has baggage, it's one of the shitty parts of being therian, and tigers, white tigers especially, they're treated like show pieces, or worse."

"…Well shit, I knew they're endangered, but… fuck."

"Yeah, it's a whole thing, I try not to -"

Our conversation is interrupted by one of the staff tapping corvid-girl on the shoulder and asking to talk privately. She reluctantly agrees to go to the back of the store and talk. At first I think maybe she's being chastised for being a disturbance, but the barista who pulled her away is giving me some very pointed looks. Worried looks, I might even say.

If I angle my ears just right, I can almost hear them through the noise of the rest of the cafe.

"…other patrons were concerned… …young lady so close to a dangerous creature…"

I wonder if the barista notices the indignant look that crosses my face when they describe me as a 'creature'.

Corvid-girl lets out that bird-like laugh of hers. Her voice is a lot more distinct and easier to pick out:

"It's just my aunt! She's not a 'creature', she just takes meds to look like that!"

The barista doesn't protest as corvid-girl returns to our table, but they're still giving me a very 'You'd better not try anything' kind of look.

Corvid-girl sits down, seemingly a little more grounded, a little more sobered. "…I guess I never thought to ask, why a white tiger?"

I lean forward, head in one paw, and give a bit of a shrug. "I relate a lot to them."

"To… being treated like a show piece, or whatever you said?"

"…Yeah. When I was little, they called me 'gifted' and put me in a separate school. I remember being excited about it, but it turns out it just meant getting more homework."

"…Ew."

I smile a little bit. "That's what I thought too! They wanted me to be some brilliant prodigy, a genius in the making, but the reality is I was just more observant and better at math than most people, that's all. I actually had to take an extra year of school because I was so bad at it."

"EWW!!"

"I KNOW, RIGHT?? But, then I went to college and graduated at the top of my class, so the joke's on them in the end."

"I wasn't even planning on staying around long enough for college…" She still has a bit of a depressed air about her, but she's not going into a panic. Maybe I'm better with kids than I thought.

"Yeah, I remember, you were going to turn into a beautiful crow and fly away forever." I try to give her a reassuring look. "But hey, the human world isn't ALL bad."

"Says the woman who's turning herself into a wild animal."

I snort quietly as I hold back a laugh. "Okay, fair, but wild animals don't get the internet, or nice little cafes where weirdos like us can just sit and talk."

"Hah, yeah… Weirdos like us." She gives a smile. An actual, genuine smile. Suddenly all the awkwardness is worth it, to see someone so deeply unhappy smile. "That reminds me, I saw on the server you're into witchcraft, can you… teach me?"

Somehow I feel like I should have expected this. The goth-looking crow girl is into witchcraft, big surprise. "I… guess? Maybe? I'm not like an expert or anything, I've just read a few books and cast a few spells is all."

"Ooh, what kind of spells??" And now she's back to her enthusiastic self.

"Just some protective charms on people who needed them, a few card readings with a tarot deck, nothing much really…"

"Does it really work??"

"I mean, the people I cast those charms on ended up safe in the end, but who knows if what I did made a difference? Some of the card readings were scary-accurate though, I think I might have a talent for divination."

She laughs. "Gonna have to get you to read my future sometime."

We end up spending the next hour or so making small talk, getting to know each other, talking about the ins and outs of humanity removal, complaining about Dr. Erian, until…

"Hey, I gotta go catch the bus back home, but… this was nice." She gives a bit of a smirk. "Cool to meet another weirdo."

Before she leaves, I ask her name - I still don't know it, I've been internally calling her 'corvid-girl' this entire time.

She gives me a disgusted grimace. "Ugh, it's 'Margaret'. I'm named for my great-grandmother, it's SUCH an old-lady name."

"Margaret, like Maggie, as in magpie?" I smile a little. "Those are corvids too, you know."

Her expression softens a little. "…Never thought of that. Still don't like it, though…"

"Well, is there a name you'd like better? I can start calling you that if you like."

She freezes. Somewhere in her eyes I can see her mind working to process what I've just said. "…Nobody ever asked me that before. I'll… think about it." She turns to leave.

"Wait, hold on a sec."

"WHAT!?" She outright glares at me, then seems to soften. "Sorry, it's… never mind."

That… was an EXTREMELY sudden mood shift. Trauma response, maybe? "I… was just going to ask if you wanted a sandwich or something to take home."

"…Didn't bring any money…"

I shake my head a little. "That doesn't answer my question. Would you like me to BUY you a sandwich or something?"

"…Egg salad if they got it I guess…"

I go up to the counter and buy her an egg salad sandwich to go. She looks like she's going to cry when I hand it to her. I… probably shouldn't make a big deal about that, but somewhere deep inside, my heart breaks a little. Does she never have anyone just… offer her food?

I'm beginning to understand why she wants to leave behind the curse of humanity. I chose this path, I wanted to be a tiger, I'm running towards something. Corvid-girl, though? She's running away from something.

I walk her outside, and she starts to walk away, but suddenly stops, and turns back to me. She walks resolutely up to me, then grabs me in a hug.

"Soft…" Her voice is muffled against both my shirt and the fur underneath. "You're very soft…"

Once I get over my surprise at the sudden gesture, I hesitantly put one arm around her shoulders and pat her on the back. She pulls away after a few short moments, and walks away down the sidewalk without another word.

I touch my shirt where her head was leaning, and notice a small wet spot.

---

Time to play "Spot the References!" Intentional references below:

"something about a 'foolish undine'" - welldrawnfish (Fish HRT)

"the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl" - ayviedoesthings (Dragon HRT)

"I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia" - ariathelamia (Lamia HRT)

"someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog" - sonic-spirit (Sonic HRT)

"watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes" - Rain, by Jocelyn Samara D. (Dragon HRT)

#tiger hrt #therian hrt #animal hrt #species hrt #furry hrt #otherkin hrt #transgender #transwoman #trans #trans artist #lgbtq artist #my art

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sophieinwonderland · 1 month ago

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you made me recognize endogenesis as real but I cant believe you are actually defending the fucking manchurian goddamn candidate larp shit. this is profoundly upsetting. ramcoa is not real, there is not a secret cabal of cults poking needles at fetuses in the womb to give them DID. if you actually read any of the ramcoa citation material, youd understand how fucking moronic and pseudoscientific it is. everyone in the online DID community is stupid and wrong. i wish I wasnt fucking plural so I didnt have to be lumped in with the dumbest people in the world. goodbye

Which part isn't real?

The part where dissociative identity disorder is commonly caused by trauma?

The part where it is possible to intentionally cause trauma that will psychologically affect children?

The part where cults and other abusive organizations can condition victims to control their minds (to an extent)?

These points seem like objective facts to me.

I have never once seen anybody claim that dissociative identity disorder could be caused by injecting a fetus with a needle.

Now, do we know for certain that intentionally traumatizing a child and encouraging dissociative mechanisms can consistently cause a dissociative disorder? The answer to that is unsurprisingly untestable. Personally, I believe it is. I was created through tulpamancy, and have heard similar practices being used to harm adults, such as in the case of the Bambi Sleep hypnosis files.

It stands to reason that if you combine the Bambi sleep-style hypnosis for control with traumatic abuse on a mind that is in the earliest stages of development then you could cause a dissociative disorder to form intentionally with programmed alters.

Are these massive organized cults with national or international reach? Probably not. They are probably mostly local groups. And with the rise of the internet, probably some online groups that are sharing techniques in secret. But I could imagine many of them inflating their power to their victims to make themselves seem more scary than they actually are. Because all abusers depend on causing fear. So there is motive for these organized abusive groups to convince their victims that they actually have far more reach and power than they do.

And from that angle, I see no reason to doubt that the victims are telling the truth to the best of their knowledge.

I might also add while on the topic of these cults not being as powerful as they like to project, I also don't believe that the conditioning is necessarily that effective either. What the number of RAMCOA systems online tells me is that if you want to control somebody, giving them a dissociative disorder is an absolutely terrible way to do that. Because the presence of the dissociative disorder means that the victim will not be fully conditioned, and a conditioned singlet might be easier to control than somebody with DID.

And while on the topic of the fact that the abusers will project an illusion of power, another possibility is that the abusers will end up traumatizing a child, cause the child to develop a dissociative disorder by accident, and then later claim retroactively that it was intentional to show how powerful they are. The victim ends up believing this lie because of their own impressionability.

This is obviously an extremely complicated topic with a lot of nuance. Because when we are talking about cult and organized abuse, these are huge categories. No two cults are going to act the same. Nor will all groups attempting mind control of some kind use the same techniques.

But I generally think that it's best to trust and believe that victims are telling the truth about their own experiences to the best of their ability.

Bye. 👋

#syscourse #ramcoa #ramcoa tw #tw ramcoa

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daddyelliott1979 · 11 months ago

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How to help your little become comfortable with Public play

One of my little ones @squirtdaboi asked me to write this as we explore public play within our dynamic.

Firstly let me define what I mean before I get shouted at for including others in kink without their consent.

In this instance we are talking padding, cute outfits and the dynamic itself playing out in public.

I'm going to break this down into a few parts

But my number 1 concern is safety, I'm never putting them in harm's way, I'm not going push them beyond what they are comfortable with.

Safety

Communication

The Play itself

After care and post outing communication

Safety

As a Daddy and Dom I'm always pushing my boys to grow, to expand themselves and be the best version of themselves (in and out of dynamics).

An example, my youngest who asked me to write this and I are starting small, he wears a pull up out, and I will low key talk to him like a kiddo.

He gets very squirmy, usually tells me to shut up (this is part of our dynamic). He gets flustered and a bit embarrassed.

I remind him no one is around and if they heard us they would have no clue what we are talking about. And I use humour to distract him.

I am never going to make him do something dumb like put his Dummy and demand he does as Daddy says; that's an overstep.

However in a recent outting he went out thickly padded, in dungarees, he took his Dummy and in a secluded place he popped it in and asked for a photo.

He felt amazing; I made him feel safe to ask for this- mission accomplished.

Know where you are and who's about before exploring public play! Always think about your little's comfort level and emotions.

I have to do this more because my little has special needs.

Communication

And this brings us to this important aspect, because of his sensory issues we have to talk and plan things more, and I'm more than happy to do.

Communication helps bring its own level of safety, each person knows exactly what's going to happen.

Discussing expectations before embarking on public play, what will.yoy be doing, how will it work and what precautions you might take! Remember safety!

Praise, Praise, Praise, Praise! Can't emphasize this enough! If he does something well, gets out of his comfort zone or does something unexpected - praise the fuck out of him!

Tell him how proud you are, tell him he's the best little boy in the world, and reward him- I buy mine little treats, but you could easily set up a reward system to support him!

Take time when it goes wrong, if he's anxious then take to a quiet space and 'check in", it's great if you have a set of questions that you always ask. This builds consistency and trust!

If you're still learning your little comfort levels you could set up a simple set of phrases where he can communicate "Green, Amber and Red" for example. Quick, no fuss communication is very beneficial; safe words aren't just for the bedroom!

Also reassure them throughout the experience! I tell my little one "doing scary things means you are brave, and being brave builds confidence!

The Play itself

This is best done in incremental steps, baby steps if you will. Start with being padded, or talking to them like a little, whilst in public.

Start with maybe a short walk to a local shop, Or grabbing changing supplies whilst at the supermarket.

Gauge the reactions of those around you and demonstrate no one cares! Reflect back how safe he is.

Be consistent, we are going to do X, and stick to it, don't change it up at the last minute. However if you have built a level of trust then a small additional extra; know your little well though, if change is an issue then don't do it!

And again praise that boy because the more he knows you are proud of him and that you got his back the more confident he's going to be!

The more he's going to want to do!

Again I can't stress enough doing different things each time, but make sure you communicate exactly what will happen! Make it fun and exciting!

After care and post outing communication

One thing to think about is having a strategy if things go wrong. That includes keeping your cool if your little one wasn't able to do what was expected or perhaps got stressed and refused.

Have an exit strategy; where are you going to take them, how will you hug in public or what will you communicate to them?

You're their Daddy, they look at you during stressful situations, they need to know you got them. Maybe they have a small pocket stuffie or comfort item. Maybe go to their favourite cafe for a hot chocolate.

And if it went well, to plan or exceeded your expectations, then praise the heck out of that boy; hesy of just broken through years of fear of repression. He needs to know how God's damn proud you are of him!

Like all aftercare you provide you know what your kiddo likes. Mines definitely about close snuggles and warm blankets, and of course quiet time to process. So he gets all of that once home.

And a bottle because it builds such a powerful bond!

Conclusion

You are building the foundations for his growth, and if you are anything like this Daddy, then you should be invested in the long game!

So little by little, pun intended, you are developing skills and abilities in him that will help in every area of his life; invest in him, and you will help create not only an exceptional little, but an incredible (little) Man!

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lightofraye · 4 months ago

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I think you’re lying about being abused. Why make up stories to get attention? You r pathetic

I was wondering when someone would fling that accusation at me. I think someone did, way back, then veered into different attacks instead.

What should an abuse victim look like? How should they behave? Would way would satisfy you? Proof of police charges? Something you can look up in public records? Photographs of bruises, injuries? Hospital records?

What would satisfy you?

Everyone has this perception, this belief, that it would never happen to them. That they’d stand up to the abuser, fight back, not cower in fear, not take shit, you name it. That they’d leave without issue. That they’d call the cops. Whatever the scenario, they have this view that they’d be brave and strong enough.

And they’d be wrong.

There’s a psychology concept, called trauma response. You’ve probably heard it and never realized it. It involves the most common phrase—fight or flight. But did you know there are at least two more in those responses?

Fight is obvious. We think we’d fight back. Some of us might, actually.

Flight is also obvious. We see a dangerous or scary situation, we run. Okay.

Then there’s freeze. Terror freezes us in place. This is actually the most common response to domestic and sexual violence.

And then there’s fawn/friend. What? That’s a new one, right? It’s where we automatically do what we can to calm and please the aggressor, even at the detriment of themselves.

There’s been debate of a fifth one. “Flop”. Basically instead of freezing, our body goes loose, actually reducing the harm that we suffer, and the mind can shut down to protect itself.

There’s also indication of a sixth one. “Fine.” Absolute denial of what had happened, insisting it wasn’t that bad, that it didn’t happen.

I fell between freeze and flight. Maybe fawn in some of it. I know someone who’d automatically go to fight. But no one, and I do mean no one, knows how they’d respond until they’re in the middle of it.

Would you like to see all my therapy notes? The mental health books that are designed to help abuse survivors? (One I recommend: “Why does he do that?” So educational.)

My question to you, anon: Why does it matter if I was telling the truth or not? Or… is it you’re afraid I’m right, you hate it, and you want to discredit me as much as humanly possible?

Useful links: Understanding the 5 Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn, and Flop The 5 F's of Trauma Response Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn, and Flop: Responses to Trauma Way More Than Fight or Flight: The Six Trauma Responses and What They Mean The 5 Fs: fight, flight, freeze, flop and friend The 4 Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn

#anti danneel #anti elta #jensen concern #jensen supportive #wow fuck you #yes I am an abuse survivor #abuse survivor

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unpredictable-probabilities · 3 months ago

Text

At a Blade's End || Chapter 4: Intertwined

Summary:

It's the day of the party at Roderick's manor, and Morpheus is displeased with the appearance of Robert and his son.

Meanwhile, Hob finds out a little more about Morpheus, and Robyn talks about his mother to his new friend.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 4,262

Square/Prompt: C1 - Healing Touch | @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human Alternate Universe - Medieval, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood Blood and Injury, First Meetings, Canonical Character Death, Each chapter will have warnings if it contains any graphic violence

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56571808/chapters/149085661

———

Morpheus turned to Alex standing beside him when he heard a sigh.

The party had started a few minutes ago, and guests were milling around greeting each other and the master of the house. Servants walked by holding trays of food and drinks, while Morpheus was at his usual station during public events: standing guard beside Alex. The Magus might care very little for his youngest son, but he would still see it as an embarrassment if Alex were to be harmed in his own premises.

“Randall’s not even here anymore and yet this entire party is for his birthday,” Alex said wistfully. “Father must really love him.”

“Your father did not neglect to give you a gift for your birthday,” Morpheus reminded him gently.

“A wad of money and an order to spend my birthday outside of his house?” Alex raised an eyebrow at him.

“I seem to remember you eating your weight in pastries and buying three new horses that day.”

Alex finally smiled. “Thank you again for accompanying me and Paul. Father would have been suspicious if it had just been the two of us.”

Someone was approaching and Morpheus instinctively turned to see who it was.

“Speak of the devil,” he said playfully.

“A drink, Master Burgess?” Paul smiled and held out a tray with a single wine glass to Alex.

Alex wrinkled his nose and picked up the glass. “I told you never to call me that.”

Morpheus scanned the crowd of nobles and businessmen, as well as the other servants going around serving food.

“Let us go to the gardens,” he said. “Far from prying eyes. Our presence is not needed here and would not be missed.”

“Indeed, Father probably already forgot that I exist,” Alex joked halfheartedly as they made their way out.

“Then that means you're free for the rest of the day,” Paul said lightly, holding the tray down at his side. “Though I’d need to get back to the kitchen soon.”

“They would not notice your absence for a few minutes,” Morpheus reassured him. “The initial preparations are done and other servants would be taking a break now as well.”

“A few minutes would be enough,” Alex said and gently took Paul’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “We can all just breathe here away from the party.”

Quick footsteps rounded the corner, and a familiar boy came running towards them while giggling.

He stopped when he saw Morpheus and smiled brightly. “Mister Morpheus!”

“Robyn! Hold on a moment!” Robert came jogging after the boy, slowing down to a stop and catching his breath.

His gaze landed on their group, and Morpheus saw Alex and Paul immediately let go of each other’s hands. Robert’s eyes followed the movement, and Paul took a step back from Alex.

Morpheus tensed, mentally running through a list of excuses as to why they were here, but he decided it would be wise to let Robert speak first to ascertain what was going on in his mind.

“My lord,” Paul lowered his eyes, his voice wavering and his face a shade paler. “I was just— Master Burgess was—”

“It’s all right,” Robert said gently. “There’s no need to explain anything to me.”

“My father isn’t a scary man!” Robyn nodded vigorously. “He won’t get angry about broken cups or holding hands with your friends!”

Morpheus instinctively looked at Robert, who returned his gaze with a small smile. Was that why they thought he ran out of their house two days ago? Just as well. It was an exceptionally idiotic decision on his part; at the very least they weren’t suspicious.

“My lord,” Alex said politely. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name. I’m not familiar with all of my father’s guests.”

“Robert Gadling,” Robert stepped forward and held out his hand. “I take it you’re Alexander Burgess?”

Alex took the offered handshake. “Yes, Lord Gadling. I welcome you to my father’s home.”

“Just ‘Sir Gadling’ is fine,” Robert smiled.

“And I’m Robyn Gadling!” Robyn puffed out his chest and held out a hand as well. “Pleased to make your acquaintance!” he added in his small high voice.

Alex smiled and shook the boy’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robyn. You know Morpheus?”

“I do! He visited our house the other day to bring the invitation, but he broke a teacup and got scared and ran away.”

Paul and Alex looked at him questioningly; they wouldn’t believe that he would get scared of such a thing. An explanation would be expected of him later.

“I apologise once more, Sir Gadling,” Morpheus said. “As well as for rudely leaving your home in haste.”

Robert shook his head. “Like I said, it was an accident. Really, it’s all right.”

“See!” Robyn beamed at Morpheus, then looked at Paul. “And my father also won’t be mad at holding hands so you don’t need to be scared! My father has servants too and sometimes they hold my hand while we walk and cross the street.”

Robert chuckled. “Indeed. And you can still hold hands with people even when you’re grown-up,” he addressed his son but smiled pointedly at Paul and Alex. “No matter who they are as long as you both agree to it.”

“Well said, Sir Gadling,” Alex raised his wine glass in a toast, looking happier than he had ever since the party began.

“What’s your name, Mister?” Robyn asked Paul.

“Ah, Paul McGuire, Sir Robyn,” Paul tipped his head, his eyes lowered.

“It’s just ‘Robyn’! I’m not old!” the boy’s face was scrunched up.

Paul smiled and met the boy’s gaze. “Pardon me. Robyn.”

The boy grinned. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Paul!” he straightened his posture and extended his hand.

Paul seemed taken aback at the offered handshake, and he wordlessly accepted it.

Then the boy turned to Morpheus with his hand still held out. “We didn’t shake hands last time!”

Morpheus shook the boy’s hand. “It is a pleasant surprise to see you again,” he said, even though it was far from pleasant seeing him and his father. “I had the impression that your father was not attending this party.”

Robert cleared his throat. “Robyn wanted to check on your hand after it got cut from the teacup. He’d been running around the place looking for you ever since we arrived.”

“You got injured?” Alex furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“It is of no consequence,” Morpheus held out his left palm. The cut had mostly closed, though he was still careful not to exert his hand so much.

“Shouldn’t you put a bandage on it?” Robyn asked worriedly.

Morpheus had considered it, but the Magus would inquire upon any injury of his out of worry that it would impede his duties, and Morpheus would rather not speak of it.

“It will heal,” Morpheus simply said. He had had worse injuries before.

“Okay…” Robyn said, though he was frowning. “Oh! You two can hold hands again now!” he said to Alex and Paul. “We don’t mind!”

“Ah, duck,” Robert knelt on one knee to be eye-level with his son. “Remember what I said about how other people can be mean and easily angered? Those people could also get angry when they find out that people hold hands. So it’s important that you don’t tell anyone that you saw them do that, okay?”

Robyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?! Why would anyone get angry about that?”

Alex smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, not everyone thinks like us, Robyn.”

Robyn frowned and looked at Robert. “Pardon my language, father. But I think that’s very stupid.”

Alex looked terrified for a moment and looked at Robert. Morpheus understood his fear; he would have received punishment if he spoke to his own father in such a way when he was that age.

But Robert just laughed good-naturedly and ruffled his son’s hair. “It is quite stupid, isn’t it? And while those people haven’t sorted themselves out yet, it’s important to protect these nice people. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded. “I promise not to tell anyone,” he said solemnly.

“Thank you,” Robert smiled at him and stood up again.

“Are you friends with Mister Morpheus?” Robyn turned to Alex.

Alex smiled, relaxed again now after seeing that Robyn faced no consequences at all for his use of language. “I am. He’s a nice person, too.”

Morpheus frowned at him. Alex had known since last year what jobs he did for the Magus, even though he did not know who the targets were. How could Alex still call him nice?

But Alex just met his eyes and grinned. “Even though he would never admit it,” he said pointedly before turning back to Robyn. “For my birthday two months ago he accompanied Paul and I to the city. We had cakes and rode horses for the better part of the afternoon.”

Robyn’s face brightened and he looked at Morpheus. “I knew you were nice!”

Morpheus said nothing; his stomach twisted at how the boy was looking at him with so much trust, oblivious to what Morpheus had almost done to his father moments before he arrived in the dining room two days ago.

“Pardon,” Paul’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “But I’ve been gone too long from the kitchen. I should return to my duties now, Morpheus. Sir Gadling, Robyn,” he nodded politely to them before turning to Alex. “... Alex,” he said with a small smile.

“Paul,” Alex returned the smile, evidently pleased that Paul addressed him by only his name.

With another bow to everyone, Paul made his way back inside.

“As for myself, I shall return to the party,” Alex straightened his waistcoat. “Father would be displeased if guests start asking him where his son is.”

“I shall go with you,” Morpheus said, grateful for any excuse to move away from Robert and the boy.

“No,” Alex shook his head. “You’ve been guarding me since before the party started. You should take a break like some of the other servants.”

“Alex,” Morpheus frowned. “You know your father tasked me to stand guard at your side.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “And we both know that no one has ever tried to harm me, and no one ever will.” He lowered his voice to be quieter. “Everyone knows I’m not important to my father and they have nothing to gain from me.”

“What?” Robyn furrowed his eyebrows. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Duck,” Robert put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’re not part of the conversation, it’s rude to ask.” Though from the somber look on his face, he had heard what Alex said.

Alex smiled at the nobleman and his son. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you both. May we see each other again soon.” He looked at Morpheus and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t follow me. Take a break.”

Had it just been the two of them, Morpheus would have said exactly what he thought of the young man’s audacity. As it were, all he could do was clench his jaw and watch Alex go back to the party.

He startled and turned around when he felt a small hand grab his wrist.

“Are you really okay?” Robyn was looking worriedly at the cut on his hand.

“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I…” he trailed off at the sound of voices.

They were at the part of the garden behind the manor, and if there were people nearby they would be on the other side of the walls separating the garden from the terrace wrapping around this wing.

He recognised Burgess’ voice. More likely than not, he and his guests were just viewing the outdoors from the terrace without putting themselves through the ordeal of actually going outside. But if Burgess decided to go in this direction he would find out that Robert Gadling has a biological heir…

“Excuse you to do what?” Robyn was frowning up at him in confusion, still holding his wrist.

“Robyn,” Robert said. “I think Morpheus might have to be somewhere else now.”

Were the voices getting closer? Or was he just getting too anxious?

“I… was thinking of showing you and your father around the gardens, Sir Robyn,” Morpheus said to the boy.

Robyn gasped in delight and tightened his grip excitedly. “Really?”

“Yes.” Morpheus looked at Robert. “If I may.”

Robert looked surprised but he smiled. “Of course. We’d be happy to walk around.”

Morpheus used his uninjured hand to grip Robyn’s wrist and pull him deeper into the gardens, away from the Magus.

***

Hob watched Robyn pull free from Morpheus’ hold to run ahead of them, slowing to a stop to peer at a butterfly that had landed on a patch of flowers.

Morpheus, despite having initiated the stroll, seemed a bit tense. He walked stiffly beside Hob, his eyes darting from time to time to the direction they came from.

“Is everything all right?” Hob asked. “If you need to get back to your work now, you don’t have to accompany us. I’ll take Robyn back to the party.”

“No,” Morpheus quickly said. “Sir.” He looked over his shoulder again.

“What’s wrong?” Hob frowned in concern. “Are we… hiding from someone?” He recalled the voices he heard shortly before Morpheus declared wanting to show them the gardens.

Morpheus looked at him, then turned his gaze straight ahead as they continued walking. He seemed to be finding the right words. “Lord Burgess… is not fond of children, sir. I heard his voice among that group. I did not want Sir Robyn to be subjected to his sour mood.”

Hob’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Not about Roderick Burgess being a grumpy old man who disliked children, he would have expected as much. But he didn’t expect Morpheus to consider Robyn’s experience at the party.

“Thank you,” Hob said sincerely. “For making sure Robyn is comfortable. Especially since you should be taking your break now instead of accompanying us.”

“It’s no trouble, sir,” Morpheus said quietly, still staring straight ahead as they continued to follow Robyn who was now running in a zigzag pattern around the flowerbeds.

Hob wondered why Morpheus still seemed tense even as they walked away further from the party. Maybe he was often like that in Lord Burgess’ house? Hob wouldn’t be surprised if all the servants were always on-guard for that nobleman. But then Paul seemed far more relaxed earlier than Morpheus now.

“Paul and Alex are lucky,” Hob tried to lighten the mood. “That they have you to watch over them.”

Morpheus looked at him, as if not expecting him to acknowledge it at all. “They are young, and deserve to be happy,” he said in his quiet voice.

Hob smiled. Morpheus seemed aloof for the most part, but he evidently cared deeply for people. Hob remembered the raven pendant that he saw that night on the balcony, and his gaze lowered to Morpheus’ chest where the necklace had been. There was no trace of it now, save for a glimpse of a thin metal chain near his neck. It looked like Morpheus usually hid the necklace under his shirt.

There was the sound of a snapping branch, a flash of alarm on Morpheus’ face, and a surprised cry from ahead of them.

Before Hob could react to the sight of his son falling off a tree, Morpheus dashed from his side and lunged, catching Robyn just in time.

The momentum made them both fall over, Morpheus landing on his back with a grunt and Robyn on top of him.

Hob quickly rushed over. “Are you two all right?” He held out a hand to help his son stand up.

Robyn scrambled to his feet with Hob’s help, and immediately turned to face Morpheus who had now sat up on the grass. “That was amazing! You’re so fast and strong!” he was practically beaming.

Morpheus looked up at Robyn, and Hob could swear that the hint of a smile was forming on his lips. “You must be cautious, Sir Robyn. You could have been hurt.”

Robyn wrinkles his nose. “Why do you keep calling me that? I’m not old!”

There was almost a fondness now on Morpheus’ face. “You are the son of Sir Gadling.”

“You didn’t call Mister Alex ‘sir’ even when he’s the son of Lord Burgess!” Robyn said stubbornly. “Is it because he’s your friend?”

Morpheus nodded. “He is.”

“Can we be friends? Then you can call me Robyn!” The boy grinned triumphantly as if he had just solved a particularly difficult riddle.

Hob chuckled. “I’m afraid this is a battle you can’t win, Morpheus.” He held out a hand to help him stand up.

Morpheus hesitated a moment before accepting it and pulling himself up. The man had more weight to him than Hob would have expected, and his grip was strong before he let go of Hob’s hand.

“Oh no!” Robyn gasped, looking at Morpheus’ other hand. “I told you to put a bandage on it!”

Morpheus lifted his left hand; the cut had reopened and was beginning to bleed again. “I must have landed on some roots when I fell,” he had a frown that looked more curious than pained.

“Is it my fault?” Robyn’s eyes were filling with tears.

“No,” Morpheus said immediately before Hob could say anything. “Not at all. Robyn.” He smiled, then. A small thing, but real and soft.

Robyn still looked tearful, but he managed to return the smile.

“Let’s sit over there and have a look at that wound,” Hob gestured to a large flower bed forming a low stone wall around some plants.

Morpheus looked like he was about to protest, but Robyn grabbed the wrist of his uninjured hand and tugged him towards the flower bed.

“Come on! We're friends now, right? That means you have to let us help!” Robyn looked up hopefully at Morpheus, who relented and let himself be pulled along.

Robyn didn’t let go of Morpheus even as they sat down on the edge of the flower bed.

“The cut isn’t too deep and fortunately you won’t need stitches,” Hob said, taking a small pouch from his coat pocket. “Why didn’t you bandage it before?” He doubted that Morpheus didn’t have the knowledge or resources for it.

Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows as Hob took out the contents of the pouch. “Do you carry a medicinal pouch with you all the time, Sir Gadling?”

“I’ve had to since I realised my son has a penchant for running around outdoors,” Hob chuckled.

“Mister Morpheus, my father asked you a question,” Robyn gently tapped Morpheus’ arm. “It’s okay if you didn’t hear it! Would you like me to repeat it?”

Morpheus looked at Robyn with a curious gaze, and Hob was about to tell his son that it was alright if people didn’t want to answer questions sometimes. Morpheus seemed like a man who valued his privacy even with the littlest of things.

Then Morpheus looked down at the cut on his hand and spoke quietly. “Lord Burgess would have questioned the injury if he had seen a bandage. I felt… embarrassed. To admit the cause of it. As it is a failure on my part. And Lord Burgess would not like to know that his trusted servant carelessly broke a cup.”

Robyn looked heartbroken and angry, and Hob spoke before the boy could say some choice words about Lord Burgess. “You’re not needed by his side for the entire party, right? Perhaps we can bandage it for now and you can just remove it later when you have to go see him.” Hob knew that that was the best compromise they could achieve.

Morpheus was quiet for a moment and nodded wordlessly, holding his injured palm out.

Hob began disinfecting the wound with the liquid from the small clear bottle, hoping to himself that Morpheus wouldn’t remove the bandage as soon as he and Robyn were out of sight.

“I’m sorry…” Silent tears were rolling down Robyn’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t have climbed the tree.”

“It’s not your fault.” Morpheus gently freed his wrist from Robyn’s hold so he could wipe away the boy’s tears with his hand. “I was much like you when I was your age, you know?” he smiled softly.

Hob normally attended to Robyn whenever he cried, but right now he felt like he should keep silent as his son finally seemed to be achieving his goal of befriending the “shy, scared man”, as Robyn had referred to Morpheus that morning at breakfast.

“Really?” Robyn sniffled.

Morpheus nodded, seeming not to feel any sting at all as Hob finished disinfecting the cut on his hand and began wrapping it with a bandage. “I liked running and climbing trees, too. I even had my fair share of falling off them.”

“Did you have someone to make you feel better after, too?”

Morpheus’ smile faltered for a moment, and Hob remembered the raven pendant again. The friend Morpheus lost. “I did. So you mustn't blame yourself. I caught you because I did not want you hurt. That is all.”

Robyn nodded, wiping away the last of his tears. “Do you still climb trees now?” he asked curiously.

“Not as much. I’ve had to stop since…” Morpheus trailed off, looking as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Since…?” Robyn pressed, eyes wide with encouragement.

Morpheus took a moment before answering. “Lord Burgess does not like seeing us climb trees.”

“He doesn’t like so many things!” Robyn complained. “You’re big now! You’re not small like me! You should be allowed to climb trees whenever you want!”

Hob suddenly remembered that Morpheus was taken as a servant when he was a child. And what Morpheus said just a few minutes earlier…

“Lord Burgess… is not fond of children, sir.”

The pieces seemed to click into place in Hob’s mind. Morpheus said himself that he was as playful as Robyn when he was a child, but had to be less so because Lord Burgess didn’t like it.

Was Morpheus just as friendly and outgoing as Robyn back then? What could have happened to make him how he was now? How did Burgess treat him as a child for him to be concerned enough to lead Robyn away from the old man as fast as possible?

No good answers came to Hob’s mind and he willed himself to remain calm. Bursts of anger were understandable from someone of Robyn’s age, less so from a grown man.

“You’re allowed to climb trees, are you not?” Morpheus told Robyn as Hob finished wrapping the bandage. “With enough practice, you will master it and not have to worry about falling any longer.”

“I wish you can practise more too,” Robyn pouted. “Why is Lord Burgess so mean!”

“He lost a son, shortly before I came into this house,” Morpheus said quietly. “Randall. It’s his birthday today, that is why we have this party now. He died young, and Lord Burgess must have loved him so. Losing a loved one can make people angry and bitter.”

There was a quiet weight to those words, and Hob couldn’t help but wonder just how long ago Morpheus’ friend had died.

“No!” Robyn looked even more exasperated now. “My mother died of sickness when I was four summers old. My father and I loved her very much, but we didn’t turn mean!”

Morpheus glanced at Hob at the sudden reveal of information, and Hob gave him a reassuring smile that it was alright for him to know. It was four years ago, and while it still hurt, he no longer felt like a broken man.

“Father said we grieve because we love her. And love shouldn’t make you hurt other people!” Robyn had grown so impassioned in his speech that he had now tightly laced his fingers through Morpheus’, his small tan hand a contrast to the larger and paler one.

Morpheus gave a small smile, though Hob could see sadness in his eyes. “You are very wise, Robyn. And… so is your father.” He glanced at Hob, his smile becoming more polite. “Thank you for this, Sir Gadling,” he held up his bandaged hand.

“It’s the least I could do for you reacting much faster than I did when my son fell,” Hob smiled back.

“When I grow up, I wanna be as fast and strong as you, Mister Morpheus!” Robyn grinned, holding up their intertwined fingers and moving them back and forth excitedly.

“Why are you calling me that?” Morpheus asked Robyn, his head slightly tilted to the side. “We are friends now, are we not? Call me Morpheus,” he smiled.

Robyn gasped and dropped Morpheus’ hand.

Then he threw his arms around Morpheus’ shoulders, holding him in a tight embrace.

Morpheus made a surprised grunt and nearly fell backwards into the flower bed before regaining his balance. He looked at Hob with wide eyes, his hands awkwardly held up to the sides.

Hob laughed, feeling a warmth in his chest at how happy his son was, and how Morpheus had grown much more comfortable around them. “It’s only polite to hug your friends back, Morpheus,” he said to answer the man’s uncertainty.

Morpheus relaxed and tentatively put his uninjured hand on Robyn’s back. Then he met Hob’s eyes, his smile more sincere now than polite. “I am glad you came to this party. Sir Gadling.”

My friends call me Hob, Hob wanted to say. But he held himself back and just smiled and nodded.

———

<- (Chapter 3)

(Chapter 5) ->

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

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goodstories08 · 2 years ago

Note

Chase x m!reader fic where they’ve been trying to get alone time all day and when they finally do and start making out they get caught by Bree

Alone Time

Chase Davenport X Male Reader

Ability: Force Field (The Bionic Ability to create and manipulate force fields)

“Don’t be a pusy, get back up and fight him,” I yell at a whimpering dark haired boy. In front of him stood one of my top students, Jason, a powerful pyrotechnic who I might have turned into a killing machine. “Please I…” The boy was cut off by the sound of Jason roaring, a flame erupting from his mouth.

I sighed and flung my arms out ahead of me, a blue glow spreading through my veins and projecting out in front of the scared boy, blocking the fire from harming him. “W-what he could have killed me, you can’t do that!” He yelled while picking himself up from the cold concrete floor. “Ahh correction I can do that, I’m the teacher here. And no you were not going to die, I wouldn’t have allowed it. Yet…” I mumbled the last part sarcastically before turning to Jason. “Good job, but next time take it easy on the scariness,” He mumbled something in an annoyed tone before walking away. “Just practice ok, you’ll get there eventually.”

The boy nodded and opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off, “Sorry got to go, talk later ok.” He simply stood there as I ran toward Chase, my boyfriend who also happened to be training annoying and immature bionic kids all day. “Chase, Oh my god I’ve missed you so dam much.” He giggled as he pulled me in for a kiss. “I’ve missed you to. Had a whole new team to train, drained the life out of me,” I smiled and looked around the empty room. “Looks like no one’s here, how about we…”

“SLAM!” I looked over toward the door where Mr. Davenport stood, “Hey you two, I’m not interrupting anything important right?” We both sigh before sadly saying “No”.

“Great, I have some paperwork to fill out. I was gonna ask Chase to help but your here too so why not. I need all the help I can get so let’s get started,” I looked up from the table I sat at as a giant pile of yellow folders and loose papers came crashing down in front of me. “Dammit,” I muttered under my breath before grabbing a small pile and beginning to fill it out.

As the day grew longer we both longed for each other more. And any chance we got we would be pulled away by someone else.

Currently me and all the other trainers where sitting around a huge table listening to some boring lecture Mr.Davenport was droning on about. No one was really paying attention except Chase, who was scribbling notes on his little planner. I looked around the room bored out of my mind, except for the occasional times Adam would make a funny face or add a stupid comment that made us all laugh.

I turned toward Chase and rubbed my leg against his. His head shot up and he mouthed “What?” I looked him up and down while licking my lips before turning back around to face the board Mr. Davenport was pointing at. I smiled as I heard Chase shift in his seat uncomfortably. Was I evil I’m for teasing my boyfriend in the middle of a meeting, yes, I was but I did not care. I did know that he was definitely gonna see me after this thing though.

The meeting ended after about 10 minutes, it was supposed to go longer but there was a bionic meeting emergency with two kids getting injured in a bad fight. But I mean hey, at least we are finally gonna get some alone time. Chase stood by my side like a shadow as everyone left the conference room, I felt his eyes burning into my skull as he adjusted his tie. I finally turned toward him and slowly walked closer. “I see you got a little exited during the meeting,” I say in a seductive tone as I pulled his tie down toward me, drawing his lips closer.

“Maybe I was, but who’s fault was that,” He mumbled before pulling me by my waist into a passionate kiss. I moaned into it as he lifted me on to the table, I wrapped my legs around his waist as my hands wondered his muscular chest. I unbuttoned the first button on his shirt before, the doors to the room swung open, I quickly pushed Chase off me. My eyes widening as I realized it was Bree. “Wow! My brother couldn’t keep it I his pants for just a while longer could he?” Bree muttered before running away with her speed, probably on her way to tell Adam. “Screw it! I haven’t seen you all day come here!” Chase demanded causing my smile to return.

#chase davenport #x male reader #lgbtq #gay #lab rats

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flowerandthesongstress · 1 year ago

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Requesting something heartwarming and sweet with Rafael!

awww come o-ooon be more specific 😅

G to T; 1300w, Warning for swearing, mild suggestive themes, implied self-esteem issues, and an out-of-character, hyperbolised-macho Pablo — for narrative and comedic purposes; nonetheless, if you feel like the latter notion might distress you, skip this one.

“Dearest Valentina, I am writing this letter to you because I want to ask you for a favor. News has reached me that you are scared of me and everyone who looks like me. I hope that, upon reading this letter, you will understand that I’m not scary at all and that I am worthy of your trust. But first things first. Please allow me to explain who I am and what it is that I do. Long ago, I was tasked with collecting baby teeth from children and turning these teeth into magic, the magic that makes teeth grow. Just like you, I live in a big house with my family who all help me with this task. Our house is made of cheese. It is a very tasty house, but we only eat small bites of it, because we are tiny and do not need a lot of food. My job is very important and cannot be disrupted, because if I don’t collect baby teeth, children will never grow new teeth. And if they don’t grow new teeth, they will never be able to eat delicious food. And if they cannot eat delicious food, they will never be able to enjoy the taste of the finest cheeses. When I learned that you lost your baby tooth, I was overjoyed! But when I heard that you were unwilling to give it away, because you think that I’m scary and will eat it or do something nasty to it, and how you told your mother that you’d rather throw it away than give it to someone as ugly as me, and how you couldn’t sleep because you thought I would steal your toys along with your tooth ... I grew sad. Your fear is normal and nothing to be ashamed of. I understand why you might be scared. Not all of my cousins are as well-behaved as me and my immediate family. You had a less-than-pleasant encounter with one of my cousins years ago, and I understand why you might be scared. I know that cousin, his name is Hector, and he’s the shame of our whole family! He loves to startle humans and then laugh about it! What a reckless bully. Bullying is never okay. I am disheartened about his bad behavior, and I do apologize for it. But I wanted to tell you that it’s not right to judge a whole group by the behavior of one of its members. You are a very smart girl, and I hope you give this idea some thought. I assure you that there is always enough cheese for us, and we would not bite you nor anyone in your family. Humans are not tasty. If you see any members of my family in the wild, please know that we are around not to bite, or to steal from you, or to cause any harm, but to help you. We are here to bring you joy. We might not look the prettiest, and our voices might be too high-pitched and not be the most melodic, but this is just the way we were created. We can’t speak the humans’ language, but at least we can write letters. It is a good idea to stay away from members of my family, because we’re tiny and humans are huge and can harm us. It is a good idea to not feed us, because we already have a house made of cheese. Please, dear Valentina, leave your baby tooth under your pillow, so that I can collect its magic and make it grow back. To show my good intentions, I have arranged for an exchange gift to be sent to you. The fire agate you are receiving along with this letter, is my way of saying how much your courage and trust would mean to me and my family.

With best wishes, including a wish for more baby teeth to fall out soon, so they might become magic teeth and help you grow a healthy smile,

—el Ratoncito Pérez, also known as the Tooth Mouse.”

~*~

“Dearest Valentina: We are writing you this letter to explain why your gifts arrived with a delay, and how it has nothing to do with your character. In fact, you have been very good this year, diligently cleaning your room, brushing your teeth, doing homework, and being nice to your friends. Your parents are proud of you, never doubt that! They informed us how good you were, and we felt proud on their behalf. We couldn’t wait to deliver the gifts to you and to reward you for making an effort. On our caravel meant for delivering gifts to children who live on islands, we set out early on. Yet then a treacherous storm unexpectedly caught up with us. Dark clouds surrounded us, blacking out the sun, wind rose and with it, the waves. Tall and roaring, they were threatening to break our ship into pieces. We had to tie ourselves to the main mast, and could only pray for the storm to pass. How stupid of us to store some of the gifts right on the deck of our ship! Some of them were grabbed by the waves and washed into the sea! Luckily, the tide brought them to the island before our arrival, and just in time, but, naturally, we could not have known that they would, and thought the gifts for your friends would be lost forever. By a strike of luck, they were not, and this is the only reason why your friends were fortunate enough to receive their gifts on time. In the end, we survived and mastered the treacherous storm which carried us so far from our destination, that it took us two days to map our way by the stars and find your island. Yet we only had time to pass the gifts over, before leaving in a haste. Such is our lot, but we never lament it, for we live to reward well-behaved children like you. We hope that you will show understanding in regards to our predicament, and we hope that the weather will be much better next year.

Con todo nuestro cariño,

—Los Tres Reyes Magos.”

~*~

Suki M. >Rafi I don’t know how to thank you >Again! >I owe you one 🙏

Rafael S. >no, you don’t >I’m always happy to help, Suki >Just please don’t tell her it was me >ever

Pablo S. >primo ¿what the fuc? >¿¿you srsly frgot youre own hijas bday??

Antonio M. >I was busy

Pablo S. >busy boning that puta turista >puto perdedor >I kick you ass >and then bone youre ex >twice

Antonio M. >I don't care > >you’re more than welcome to my leftovers, primo.

Pablo S >thats it your fucked

Pablo S. >kicking primos ass today >your coming with me >that pendejo forgot vals bday >she is sad

Rafael S. >No need. >It has been dealt with, Pablo.

Pablo S. >¿already you beat him up? >nice >then ill go drop by suki 😏 >hold the fort

Rafael S. >I’m sorry, I can’t.

Pablo S. >why

Rafael S. >I’ll be taking Valentina to see her friends.

Pablo S. >with any luck will be >boning her mama >today

Rafael S. >Yes, so I gathered.

Suki M. > >Rafi you'll make such a good husband and father one day

Rafael S. >That’s very kind of you to say. >But I doubt the day would ever come. >who would want me

#requests #my writing updates #Rafael Sanchez #coral island fanfic #coral island #coral island rafael

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multiplicity-positivity · 2 years ago

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hiya! c:

just wanted to ask a quick question cause we kinda get confused sometimes with these two terms!

radinclus vs radqueer

because the previous anon mentioned it, is there a difference between being radinclus vs being radqueer?

cause the way we interpret it from what we've seen (and if we're mistaken, feel free to correct us!), radinclus is more about supporting good faith identities like mspec identities, neopronouns, xenogenders, alterhumans, etc., right? and radqueer is more about supporting the trans-id labels, right?

like for example, cause we're radinclus but NOT radqueer

Hi. I’m not the most knowledgeable about queer discourse terminology, but yes I’d agree with you. I feel like rad-inclus (radical inclusion/inclusivity) means respecting good faith identities, and drawing the line at identities that cause direct harm to marginalized groups.

I don’t know if we’d call ourself “rad-inclus” (we really don’t know enough about it) but we are accepting of all good faith identities and labels. We support contradictory labels, xenogenders, aldernity, vesility, nonhuman/alterhumans, and all sorts of things that come with living full, messy lives.

We don’t support trans-id… because that causes direct harm to disabled people, people of color, transgender people, and more. We believe that, on issues that don’t directly affect us, the voices of those who ARE directly affected need to be heard and uplifted. And we have seen MANY people of color speaking out against trans-ids and claiming that the “transrace/trace” identity is harmful and racist. We’re white. So we listen to and believe those people of color.

As a disabled, trans system, we have seen how “transabled” has made a game out of disabilities, and a mockery out of trans people and transgender rights. It is genuinely scary to see someone claiming to “transition” to having a stigmatized mental disorder or a physical disability that we did not choose and are oppressed because of! Because those people just want our disability. They don’t actually have it, and they will never experience the horrors that come from being disabled and oppressed on the basis of disability.

I mean, they might experience that one day. Disability can happen to anyone at any time. But claiming to be “transDID” or “transHOH” is just horribly disrespectful both to transgender people and to those with specific disabilities.

I’m sorry I kind of went off here. I just can’t say enough how much we don’t support and feel directly harmed by trans-ids. If that means we’re not rad-inclus, then it is what it is.

💫 Parker

#sorry for discoursing here everyone #radqueer #trans id #trace #transabled #discourse

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cherry-blossom-qf · 1 year ago

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Hot Undertale Take from yours truly~

The Neutral Endings have more angst material than the Genocide Ending.

Allow me to explain....~

(spoilers below)

(and this is gonna be kind long)

We all know the Genocide Ending. Heck, it was the first Ending I heard about when I learned about Undertale's existence (which scared little baby christian me lmao). There has been animations, fan games, fanfics, fanart, everything angsty all revolving around the Genocide Ending. Cuz that's the ending where EVERYONE DIES, Flowey is scared of us, and Sans shows off his depression- blah blah blah!

But as an adult, I come to realize that the fandom has been sleeping on the Neutral Endings. Yeah, little to no monsters die in those endings.... but they are left hopeless because of your actions.

If Toriel, Papyrus, or Mettaton become ruler, then the plan of getting monster kind back to the surface will be impossible. Cuz they don't want to kill any humans! Toriel never liked the idea of killing humans (she literally divorced Asgore because of it), Mettaton is too fascinated by humans to do any actual harm to them, and Papyrus would probably only kill to "protect" instead of "collect" (but that's just a bit of a headcanon of mine).

If Undyne or Alphys becomes ruler, then monsters kind might have a chance of getting out, but it's at a painful cost. Undyne would turn the entire Underground into a military base, and last time I checked, being ONLY military focus is bad for a county. If you know how wars work, you'll know what I'm talking about. As for Alphys... getting her ending involves a failed genocide run. Meaning monster kind is left short in numbers. Alphys has the rage to destroy humanity for what you did to her friends, but not the strength nor courage to pull it off. She is NOT meant to lead, and she knows that, but she's all they got left. And that's killing her inside.

And the Leaderless Ending... that one is this most chilling.. because it's another failed genocide one. The monsters you left alive are terrified, losing hope in ever getting out, left to grieve over their love ones that you turned to dust. Yeah, it's still not the Genocide Ending, but it's just a cruel, if not more so.

Even the mfing joke Dog Ending has some angst material!! Yeah, Sans says "it's the best ending for all of us" cuz a dog is now the president of the Underground and who doesn't love dogs?? But that doesn't change the fact they are left under the leadership of a stranger! Someone that just showed up out of nowhere and was like "woof woof, I'm in charge!!" It's a joke ending, but it's only to cover up that YOU STILL KILLED PEOPLE, JACKASS!!

CASE IN POINT: The Genocide Ending is scary af, but The Neutral Endings is where the true despair lies. Cuz in the Neutral Endings, Sans will always be there to tell you how much you damaged their kind....

-----------------------------------

Hope this all makes sense! I might edit out a few grammatical mistakes if there is any! Cuz buddy, I still have dyslexia and I still hate it!

Also this is all just my opinion! If you don't agree, let me know your own thoughts! ( 🌸^ ^ ) /

#rant into the void #what undertale does to a mf #just had this thought while drawing and had to get it out #i need to get back to drawing (''._.)

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doodle17 · 2 years ago

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Raz gaming for the first time with either playing Bendy or Legend of Zelda. I think that he'd enjoy some of the more horror based LoZ games like Majora's Mask or Twilight Princess, considering his love of Zombies. If he's playing Bendy he gets REALLY attached to the first Boris and because Tom's Boris is mean he gets sassy with Tom.

"Soooo.... it's like, a fantasy game?" Raz said looking at the TV as Adam handed him the controller. "Oh its WAY more than just some 'fantasy game', buddy!" Adam replied as he inserted the cartridge into the console. "Trust me, by the end of the day, you'll be a Zelda fanatic!" Raz looked at the controller, unsure, but nodded. "Alright then? I've always been more of a sci-fi, science fiction kind of guy but-" Adam pointed to the loading screen. "Just play the game mate."

"Hey! This is actually really fun!" Raz said happily as he solved another puzzle in the Deku Tree. Adam ruffled his hair. "See? I told you, you'd like it!" Adam said. Raz hummed as he moved the joystick around, the character running around awkwardly on the screen. "Pfft. That's because this one's easy." Lizzie said, suddenly appearing behind the boys. Adam jumped a bit. "If you want to have some real fun, try this one out."

She held up a cartridge. Adam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I dunno, that one might be a little scary. The mask transformations still freak me out." Lizzie scoffed. "C'mon, I'm sure 'ol Razzle-dazzle over here has seen way worse." She held up the cartridge again and looked at Raz. "Whadya say buddy? Wanna play the real best Zelda game?" She looked at Adam smugly. He sighed. "I will not fight with you on this again." He said, but quickly muttered "Ocarina of time will always be better..." under his breath after. Raz shrugged. "I don't see what the harm is in trying another one out. I'll give it a shot." Lizzie gave him a high five. "Atta' kid!" She walked over to the console.

Raz stared in horror at the short terrifying mask transformation cutscene. He was already freaked out, but this seemed to push him over the edge. "Yeah, no. I'm done this is too freaky." Raz set the controller down. "Ah c'mon! We haven't even gotten the Zora mask yet!" Lizzie said. Adam shrugged. "I told you." She glared at him before folding her arms. "Okay, how about you try Twilight Princess?" She had a bit of hope in her voice. "What's it about?" Raz asked, looking over his shoulder. Adam sighed thoughtfully. "How do you feel about were-wolf transformations, unnerving animations and disturbing dream sequences?"

Raz inhaled through his teeth with an unsure look on his face. Lizzie furrowed her eyebrows. "Damn... Alright..." She groaned. She sat thoughtfully for a moment before perking up. "Hey, Raz! You ever heard of Bendy and the Ink Machine?-"

"NO." Adam interrupted.

#doodle88 #psychonauts #razputin aquato #lizzie natividad #adam joseph gette #Psychonauts 2 #Majoras mask #ocarina of time #Batim

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drdemonprince · 2 years ago

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how do i get my therapist (who has experience working with autistic ppl) to stop viewing me through a neurotypical lens?

when I brought up that I'm struggling to show up to a social function due to a number of factors (overwhelming loud environment, not knowing them that well, not much time to recoup after an overstimulating workday), she said I was engaging in "negative self-talk" and needed to think more positively. I've heard this from other therapists too but I really don't see the self-esteem angle.

or when i mentioned I've been suffering from insomnia, and mentioned that I make lists to help me fall asleep (eg: something with my special interests, like list the entire taylor swift discography, lol), she said that was definitely the reason I couldn't fall asleep because it requires too much focus (even though I'd been doing that for years as a method and the insomnia part is new...). she said i need to "clear my mind" instead when that's never worked for me.

i know the correct answer is "find a better therapist" but i just. they're ALL like this from my experience. and i guess i'm just wondering what some other red flags might be in a therapist who specifically works with autistic clients.

thank you for taking the time to read this, i know this is a long question so no pressure to respond! xx

Yeah, it sounds like it's time to hit the bricks. This therapist sounds invalidating, dismissive, and not at all introspective about their own assumptions and process.

Have you tried telling them that their view of you and your way of functioning is colored by really neuronormative assumptions? How do they respond to disagreement or challenge in general? Do they respect you? Have they demonstrated that they can self-reflect and apologize when they get things wrong? If all or most indications point to no, this therapist is not just useless to you, they're actively harmful, and I think you probably ought to stop wasting time and money being exposed to their feedback.

As for the fact that nearly all therapists appear to be like this -- that is by design. The entire enterprise of psychiatry and psychology is to impose a neuronormative standard onto all people, and to attempt to correct for any deviance from that standard that is observed. Therapists are overwhelmingly privileged people who have not been trained to consider factors of systemic oppression and exclusion, and in fact these dynamics are often ones they do not comprehend. Therapists are bad at being compassionate and helpful toward Autistic people because psychology as a field philosophically does not see us as okay as we are. So you will likely run into this problem again and again.

The only good therapist is one who is willing to betray the most oppressive norms of the field, and that's a rare thing. You will likely have to grill potential therapists on their knowledge and understanding of neurodiversity before you hire them in order to determine if they would be a good fit. It's exhausting and people often find it scary, but just remember that they work for you, and there is no reason for you to be paying someone to tell you that you're defective.

(Of course, there might be some benefits that you find you are receiving from therapy, even with this person's many flaws, and if that's the case, by all means stick with them if you think it balances out. Trust your own judgement. I'm just a cranky ideologue on the internet I don't know your life. Tho neither, it seems, does this therapist).

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sophieinwonderland · 1 year ago

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Ok so something weird happened. Keep in mind there are 2 tulpas in the system. They are the only headmates I have ever knew the existence of and talked to. The thing is today someone talked to me. I "felt" someone call me and just talk to me (not hear because I don't have an inner voice I just feel my thoughts and the headmates). I was surprised and asked her some informations about herself yk for knowing eachother better. The thing is she is literally me but child version, I am talking about 4th/5th grade me. She told me she was here for a long time, but she never talked to me, nor fronted before. Hell even the other headmates never saw,heard her or knew about her existance. Just to let you know I was bullied every day for the whole elementary, so like for 5 years. I remeber only 3/4 episodes of it but I know it happened for a long time. The only thing I remember about elementary are those few episodes and nothing else. Maybe this info could help you understand better what is going on. I am scared I just imagined all this but I don't wanna jump to conclusions and i know there might be more than just "imagination". Maybe you could help me figure out things and how to handle it, if you want of course. Take your time and remember to take care of yourself, byeeee!

Oh.

That's quite the situation.

So, as of right now, you have two possibilities.

One is worrying for you and could mean you already had a system, possibly traumagenic. (Are the tulpas new or have they been with you for a while? Have you experienced triggered switching before or c-PTSD symptoms?)

Are you concerned the reason you don't remember a lot of the bullying could be because you had a trauma holder? That would make a lot of sense. But sometimes things that become so routine may be hard to remember too. Even terrible things.

And sometimes, yeah, you can just imagine things. This is the second possibility and is also scary. And that's totally possible if it was just a one-time conversation.

At the moment, my advice would be for you to just relax and deal with things as they come.

There was actually an older tulpa here, Eria. Someone my host tried to create as a spiritual thoughtform when he was a teen. She never talked or fronted back then and it was assumed she was never really formed as a headmate. There were a few times after I was created that my host thought of her again or we discussed her and we felt her presence. Then one night, we felt her, heard her voice, we talked to her, and she was able to front easily. (And she hated it, and immediately left front after a few moments.) She's been with us ever since.

I think the best way to handle this might just be to be calm and let nature take its course. If she doesn't come back, then maybe it was just your imagination. If so, no harm done. But if she comes back, you should do your best to be open and accepting to her, to treat her as a real headmate and have a discussion with her about your feelings and hers.

If you still have doubts, you can express those in a calm and respectful manner to her. Something like "You're the first headmate I've met who I didn't create, so I'm having doubts. I'll try my best to accept you but can you please be patient with me?" Hopefully, she'll understand and respect you for being honest.

#plural #plurality #multiplicity #systems #sysblr

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foggyfanfic · 1 year ago

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Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: A lot of hands went up, then out of the corner of her eye she saw Señor Gutierrez raise his hand, she turned to stare at him. The rest of the village followed her gaze, and slowly every other hand sank until Señor Gutierrez was the only person with their hand raised.

CH 1 Prev Next Master List

33. ...Tribulations

“Alright, we have heard from all witnesses and each of Cicero’s victims, it is time for us to make our decision,” Alma said, standing at the table now placed front and center of the church, “will we allow this man to remain in our village.”

The whole village began talking at once and Alma tapped her gavel a few times to cut through the noise. It wasn’t often the people of Encanto went through this, so she could forgive them for being a bit disorderly, but the fact remained they would get nothing done if they talked over eachother.

“One at a time, we will hear arguments both for and against banishing Cicero, I assure you, but we must do this in an orderly fashion.”

It was like the whole village took one collective breath, and released it as a communal sigh. She looked over the crowd, debating who to give the floor to first. After his outburst, Señor Gutierrez had made Cicero stay home. Similarly, Cicero’s victims had already cast their votes and, with the exception of Pepa, were avoiding the trial.

Pepa sat next to Félix, who had Felípe on his other side. Alma pursed her lips. Everybody already knew how Felípe felt, he wouldn’t bring up anything they hadn’t heard him say down at the cantina. Then again, it was hard to find an argument more convincing than “I don’t trust him not to hurt my future wife and baby.” It would be best to end with that.

Padré raised his finger, and she fought the urge to scowl, she couldn’t ignore people who wished to speak just because she thought they would argue on Cicero’s side, but if this self-righteous boy who had the nerve to call himself a priest said anything about forgiving Cicero, after the sermon he’d given damning Rosalie, Alma just might shove her gavel up his ass.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded herself she was a community leader now. She no longer had the luxury of thinking such things.

“Yes Padré? You have the floor.”

“Gracias Señora,” Padré stood, he took a deep breath then looked around at his congregation, “when Señora Rosalie was first found, I gave a sermon on the dangers of alcohol and sex. A sermon I have come to deeply regret.”

He paused as people muttered quietly, apparently marshaling his thoughts.

“It was easier to assume that Rosalie had simply over-imbibed and was trying to save face by pretending to have been taken advantage of, it was less scary than believing her,” Padré continued, “None of us wanted to believe that somebody in our village could be capable of true cruelty. We still don’t, it is still quite tempting to hide behind the fiction that what Cicero has done to Rosalie wasn’t quite that bad. He barely bruised her, after all. And he couldn’t have predicted that her parents would abandon her, surely he didn’t mean to do as much harm as he did.”

A few people were nodding, and if she wasn’t currently acting as a village leader, Alma would have given each of them the stink eye. As it was, she did her best to ignore those who apparently held the opinion that Padré was describing. Instead, when Padré looked at her, she gave him one quiet nod in order to encourage him.

“I was only six when this village was founded, I don’t truly remember what it is like to live without the protection of the miracle. I don’t truly know what it is to fear that men may come and pillage our village, raze our crops, and savage our women,” he paused, “and I don’t want to. I am quite happy to live in a world where women need not fear walking home at night, where might doesn’t make right, where we each treat each other with the grace and compassion that God intended.”

Alma glanced at Señor Gutierrez, then did a double take, his face was crumpled with the effort to hold back tears. She gulped, feeling a split second of sympathy for the man. How must it feel to know your own son has desecrated paradise?

“Ignoring the horror, the cruelty, of what Cicero has done may feel safer, but it does nothing to protect you. We have received a blessing from God, a little pocket of peace and security, our very own Garden of Eden,” Padré held his hands out, palm up, as if begging the villagers to listen to him, “is it not our job to maintain this paradise? To tend to the garden? To keep it safe, protect it as it has protected us? I vote to banish Cicero, for the good of our community, and I implore each of you to do the same.”

Padré sat and Alma clenched her fists to keep from applauding. She took a deep breath to keep the smile off her face as she stood and straightened her skirt.

“Very well put Padré, thank you for those words, who wishes to speak next,” she asked, examining the hands that immediately went up, eventually she chose that of Juan, who worked in the coffee orchard, “what do you have to say, Señor?”

Juan stood, nodding his thanks at her before turning his gaze to the other villagers, “Padré is right, we do live in a paradise. I was also a child when we came to this place, and I neither know nor wish to know the depths of human cruelty. But that is exactly what it’ll be if we kick Cicero out of the only home he’s ever known, cruelty.”

Alma sighed through her nose but otherwise made no indication of her displeasure. She braced herself to hear a lot of stuff she didn’t agree with.

“I’m not arguing that what Cicero did was alright, by all means, I think he needs to face some sort of justice. But exile?! You want to rip the guy away from his friends, his home, his future? His son?”

A few people grumbled angrily at that last point, but nobody interrupted.

“What he did was bad, but it’s not like he killed somebody. And now that we know about it, we can protect the women from him. We don’t need to exile him in order to keep our village safe,” Juan scoffed at the idea, “Encanto hasn’t come as far as it has by turning our back on our own. We are a community of people who love and care about each other, and sometimes loving somebody means turning the other cheek. If we exile Cicero for this, what will be next? Will we exile everybody who has sex out of wedlock? That’s half the town!”

One of the women in the crowd started to say something, only to get shushed by her husband. She gave her husband a shocked look then her face twisted with rage, Alma strongly suspected she had just seen the end of a marriage.

“Again, I ain’t saying we let the guy off the hook, I just think exile is a bit too extreme of a punishment. He made one mistake, why would we ruin his entire life over it?” That said, Juan sat back down, a lot of people began talking at once. Alma banged her gavel until the village quieted back down.

“One at a time, remember, one at a time,” she insisted, then took a few deep breaths as the crowd fully settled, “who is next?”

“That’d be me,” the woman who had been shushed rocketed to her feet, swatting at her husband’s hands when he tried to pull her back down, “hola, in case we haven’t met, I am Lucia. Lovely to be here, truly, I can think of no better way to spend my evening than listening to the bullshit we just heard.”

Her husband groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“One mistake!? He made one mistake?” Lucia directed her argument at Juan, “So he mistakenly slipped a drug in Rosalie’s drink, then he mistakenly left the party and waited for her to do the same, then he mistakenly dragged her into her parent’s barn, and mistakenly took her clothes off. Then by complete accident he had sex with her while she was unconscious. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

Juan tried to say something, but she barreled over him.

“And then! And then he mistakenly slipped the same drug into three other women's drinks over the course of a year. Not to mention how he mistakenly slipped something in Leandra’s drink, dragged her into an alley and mistakenly pinned her against a wall while he undid his belt. That’s your argument?”

Juan glared mulishly up at her, face red. Hopefully he was now aware of how ridiculous he’d sounded.

“He did not make a mistake. Cicero got told ‘no’ one time and went on a rampage. That’s deranged, and dangerous, and not the sort of behavior I want in my community. Not only do I vote to kick him out, if we had a giant catapult we could use I’d load him into it myself,” she finished with a nod, then walked away from her husband, sitting in another pew and crossing her arms.

Whispering started up, as far as Alma could tell, it was mostly about the state of Lucia’s marriage.

“Indeed, thank you Lucia,” Alma reclaimed the village’s attention, “who would like to-, sí Señora? What do you think?”

An elderly woman stood, leaning her weight on her cane.

“I think we are glossing over the most important issue, Cicero’s son. While the way little Julio was brought into this world is most unfortunate, Señorita Rosalie herself has said that he is just an innocent babe. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for the sins of his father, and quite frankly, every child needs their parents. Both parents,” the elderly woman said, apparently not feeling the need to introduce herself, “Cicero must face justice, but more importantly, the child needs a father. I feel we should find a solution that fulfills both requirements.”

A few people nodded as the woman eased herself back onto the pew, Alma opened her mouth to ask for who was next, but didn’t get the chance as Felípe shot to his feet, looking for all the world like he might punch an old lady.

“Julio is not without a father, I am his father, and quite frankly I don’t want somebody as vindictive as Cicero around my son,” Felípe all but shouted, “Rosalie turned Cicero down and he took it as an excuse not just to hurt her, but multiple innocent bystanders. And you want that guy to raise a child? You want to let him raise my child? Absolutely not!”

“He’s not your chil-.” The woman tried to say.

“Like hell he ain’t,” Felípe scoffed, “who do you think bought his crib?! His first blanket and clothes? Rosalie has barely felt safe being alone with me but that didn’t stop me from caring about her or our kid. After her parents kicked her out she needed help, so I did whatever I could. I’ve changed his diapers, I’ve bought any medicine Rosalie couldn’t afford, I’ve read and sang him to sleep. You want to tell me he’s not my son?! You want to give credit to Cicero?”

Felípe paused but the woman didn’t fill the silence.

“Cicero hasn’t done a damn thing to help Rosalie with her pregnancy or care for that boy. Oh sure! He offered! But only if Rosalie agreed to marry him, because she refused, he wiped his hands of the kid. Cicero may have sired the boy, but he ain’t the boy’s Pá, I am. And it will be a cold day in hell before I allow somebody that dangerous around my son.”

With his piece said, Felípe sat. Alma waited a beat to see if anyone else would shoot to their feet, then cleared her throat, “Anyone else?”

Señor Matisse raised his hand, then stood when she nodded, “Just to be clear, I will be voting to exile Cicero, but only because we don’t have a system in place to handle something like this. Juan raises a valid point, what Cicero has done is wrong, but I’m not convinced that exiling him is the best answer. And while Julio is not without a loving father, what if this happens again and the babe does not have a trustworthy backup waiting in the wings?”

Alma pursed her lips, the baker was raising some good points.

“Cicero has proven he’ll commit the same crime again and again, no matter what sort of consequences his victims face, so exile may be our only option, but let’s not fool ourselves. By banishing Cicero from Encanto we are not stopping him from raping innocent women, we are just making sure he does it somewhere else,” Matisse paused sighing deeply, “maybe this isn’t the time to ask all these questions, but it bears thinking about, don’t it? Is banishing the guy really the best way to handle a violent crime?”

Out of the corner of her eye Alma saw a cloud form over Pepa’s head. Thankfully, Pepa stood and left the church before the cloud could turn into a full storm. Some people glanced at her, but the rain falling on her head was all the excuse she needed to leave.

“What? You think we should build a prison?” another man asked, scoffing a little, “Just for one guy?”

Matisse shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t want that guy roaming free around my kids, but it just doesn’t sit right to kick him out, especially since he’ll likely do the same thing wherever he ends up.”

A few people mumbled, others nodded. Alma allowed the low hubbub to dominate the room for a few minutes, it was an important discussion and one she had been trying not to think about through this whole process.

She was very aware that banishing Cicero just meant sending him somewhere people didn’t know what danger he posed.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, there was nothing she could do about that, her duty was to Encanto. These people were trusting her and her familia to protect them, she had to put them first. When Alma opened her eyes, she lightly tapped the gavel on the table and the discussion died down. As usual, everybody turned to her with expectant eyes, so she steeled herself.

“You are right Señor, there is a very important conversation to be had about our justice system. However, for now we must work with what we’ve got. Is there anything else?”

A lot of hands went up, then out of the corner of her eye she saw Señor Gutierrez raise his hand, she turned to stare at him. The rest of the village followed her gaze, and slowly every other hand sank until Señor Gutierrez was the only person with their hand raised.

“Sí?” she asked.

He stood, and started with a deep sigh, “I-. I do not have a good argument to defend my son. I know what he’s done is… unforgivable.”

Gutierrez stopped talking, his head hanging low. The whole room held their breath, watching him, waiting.

The silence stretched uncomfortably long. If it weren’t for the fact that he were still standing, Alma would have tapped her gavel and asked who was next.

“Por favor, let mijo stay,” Gutierrez eventually breathed, “I know-. Let him stay, I will watch him, I won’t let him leave the winery, he’ll spend the rest of his life doing community service, just please. Don’t send my boy away.”

A tear, then another, escaped from his eyes. His voice creaked over every other word. His hands shook, his shoulders bowed, and he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

He was begging.

Alma gulped, her voice came out gentler than she’d intended when she spoke, “You have known this entire time what he had done to Rosalie, you have known he tried again, and yet you didn’t stop him from drugging Señorita Lopez. Why should we trust you to keep him contained going forward?”

“Leandra baited him into-.”

“She handed him a drink while she went to the bathroom,” Alma cut him off, feeling so tired all of a sudden, “she didn’t make him drug her, she didn’t imply she would sleep with him then revoke the offer, she barely even flirted with him. She just handed him her drink, that was all it took. That was the entirety of the trap she set.”

Señor Gutierrez frowned, but she could see in his face that he knew she was right. Cicero didn’t need to be baited into attacking women, he just needed an opportunity.

In the back corner of the room, Agustín stood, “Disculpe, but… what guarantee can you give us that Cicero won’t sneak away and retaliate on Leandra, Félix, Rosalie, or even one of the Madrigals? Are you going to keep him locked inside?”

Señor Gutierrez’s mouth flapped for a second, he slowly shook his head, eyes wide and lifeless.

For a second, Alma wished she could show mercy if only for his sake. Señor Gutierrez had always been a good man, a loyal one. He was hardworking, kind, responsible, and most of all, a doting father and husband. He did not deserve any of this.

Sadly, however, he was choosing his son over the rest of the village. It was an understandable choice, one Alma might make herself if she couldn’t keep the village’s fear of Bruno from turning to resentment, but that changed nothing.

“Señor, Cicero is a danger to others. He has demonstrated a vindictiveness that almost ruined a young woman’s life, simply because she loved another,” Alma said, not without sympathy, “And now… well we have all seen how enraged he is by Leandra, and everybody else who helped to investigate him. If there were some other way to protect this village from him, I would be happy to discuss it, but… there isn’t.”

For a second the church was silent as they watched Señor Gutierrez crumble. Then, Julietta whispered to Agustín, quiet enough that you wouldn’t usually be able to hear it in the crowded church. But thanks to the silence, the whispered statement carried over the crowd, striking Señor Gutierrez across his face.

“If he really loves his son he’ll take him and run. From what Bruno said, Cicero will probably get murdered if he stays.”

Gutierrez turned and gaped at Julieta, who suddenly found herself to be the center of attention. For a split second she looked embarrassed, then she took a deep breath and stood.

“You heard Bruno’s prophecy, none of us are going to trust him after this. Those of you arguing on Cicero’s behalf? If your daughter or sister or wife comes to you and says she’s been raped and she doesn’t know who did it, who’s gonna be your number one suspect?”

Next to her, Félix started nodding, while others exchanged glances. Nobody disagreed with her.

“We’re sitting here debating whether or not we’ll be safe if he stays, but, well, maybe you should be asking yourself if he’ll be safe,” she continued, “I-I won’t heal him, not just because I hate him for what he tried to do to my sister, but because I don’t feel safe going anywhere near him.”

“We won’t sell to him, or you for that matter, we got cousins to worry about,” Félix said, after exchanging a glance with Felípe and their mother.

“Neither will I,” Señor Matisse admitted, “even if he stays, I won’t want him anywhere near my bakery. That’s where my kids are.”

“I won’t carry your wine if he stays,” Señora Moreno, the owner of Encanto’s finest restaurant said, almost apologetically, “I just-, I don’t think people will buy it after this. I’m already struggling to sell what we have.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement.

Señor Gutierrez sank to the pew, lips pursed and eyes a thousand yards away.

Alma sighed through her nose, she looked around at the rest of the room, waiting for somebody else to put up their hand. Nobody did, most sat there looking contemplative. Whatever arguments people had been about to make before Señor Gutierrez and Julieta spoke, they were silent now.

Just in case, she asked, “Anyone else?”

The silence rang loud and clear.

“Very well, you have until tomorrow evening when the market closes to cast your vote. The ballot box will remain here in the church, as well as the ballots and some pens. Would anyone like to volunteer to guard the box from tampering? There will be six shifts, lasting four hours. I want two guards each, three alternates just in case, for a total of-. Felipe, thank you, but I would prefer if the volunteers were people who are less biased.”

Felipe slowly put his hand down, frowning, and Felix gently patted his back. Meanwhile, Alma chose fifteen volunteers and asked them to stand with her at the front of the church.

“Everybody else, you may go. We will count the votes tomorrow evening, and should have the results by the next afternoon,” Alma turned to look at Señor Gutierrez, “I will tell you and your family first, señor, then I will announce it to the rest of the village.”

Señor Gutierrez nodded stiffly, standing back up and shuffling out of the church. The village waited long enough to watch him go and gossip about how far he’d fallen, then slowly trickled out onto the streets. Alma wished she could hate him the way she hated his son, it would make watching his world fall to pieces so much easier to bear.

She shook her head and turned to her fifteen volunteers. Alma no longer had the luxury of wallowing in sympathy and sentiment. She needed to focus on making sure this vote went smoothly.

#bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal x female oc #bruno madrigal fanfic #bruno encanto #love and fury #encanto

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