#child neglect cw
(please post on fathers day if you can) Happy fathers day, I guess. I wish i didn't have to prove myself to you. I wish you just accepted me as your son, even though I was clumsy and bad at magic. All I wanted to do was make you proud, and I wish it didnt take me almost killing myself to save someone, for you to finally accept me. - Cedric [Sofia the First]
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Me, super excited thinking about father's days I had in the past bc I have multiple kins with people who have strong connections with their dads/father figure: :D
Me realizing I'm way more excited about congratulating my kins' fathers then my own father rn : :/
It hitting me that I had amazing dads before but now I'm stuck with a shitty one and all I want to be is hugged by a dad who loves and protects me but I'm not gonna get that today, that opportunity has passed as I'm no longer with those other dads : :'(
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not gonna lie, phil wasnt the best dad. he stopped treating me as his son and lowkey apprentice when i was 15 and suddenly saw me as his friend and apprentice full on. wilbur never got that treatment and stayed phils son until he couldnt anymore, which seeing as i was adopted and wil was phils bio kid makes some sense but how could only the kids see how shitty that was.
i got to do so much more then wilbur despite us only being a year and a few months apart, and i was the adopted one. no matter how i love phil he wasnt a good dad.
- techno ( #fictive #🕊🗝 )
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(Father's Day ask) Shout out to fiction as a whole for providing father figures when my real father was never there. I've become unreasonably attached to characters like Korosensei and Lord Death (Soul Eater) cuz of it, lol.
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the extent of Shouto’s abuse
1. Witnessing Domestic Abuse
2. Verbal Abuse
3. Emotional Abuse
4. Emotional Neglect
a. Social Isolation
b. Denial of Developmental Needs
c. Parental Separation
5. Physical Abuse
c. Physical Assault
i. Society’s Neglect
ii. His Family Members Taking It Out On Him - His Mother
iii. His Family Members Taking it Out On Him - Touya-nii/Dabi
Do not reblog or tag with character hate or redemption arc discourse. Make your own post (and link back if need be.)
Otherwise, you are encouraged to add your own analyses!
1. Witnessing Domestic Abuse
2. Verbal Abuse
3. Emotional Abuse
4. Emotional Neglect
a. Social Isolation
b. Denial of Developmental Needs
Play is essential for healthy child development.
c. Parental Separation
5. Physical Abuse
Note: It has been observed the stick Endeavor is holding may have been used to physically beat Shouto.
c. Physical Assault
The exact phrase is: そして待望の傑作にさえ手を上げています僕は何度も見てきました。This translates literally to “And then, even with his long-awaited masterpiece, he raised his hand to him; I saw it time after time.” Despite the wording, there’s no uncertainty he’s talking about hitting/slapping/beating him.
Retraumatization does not mean these groups are abusive (though it can); it means the trauma is reminiscent of the original abuse.
I. Society’s Neglect
i. Emotional Abuse
Viewing him, his quirk, and his abilities as that of Endeavor, the number two one hero.
a. Adults and Pros
b. Other students
ii. Emotional Neglect
Ignoring red flags because Endeavor is a pro hero.
a. All Might
b. Aizawa and Present Mic
c. Gang Orca
Directly faulting him for his emotional struggles.
II. Family Members Taking It Out On Him - His Mother
i. Verbal Abuse
The exact word she uses is 醜い (minikui) which means “unsightly.”
ii. Emotional Abuse
Again, viewing him as a second Endeavor.
iii. Physical Abuse - Physical Assault
She burned him again with her ice quirk in her panic (heat and then ice).
III. Family Members Taking It Out On Him - Touya-nii/Dabi
i. Verbal Abuse
ii. Emotional Abuse - Dehumanization
iii. Physical Abuse - Physical Assault
IV. Note: You would expect revealing his abuse history without his consent and the public’s reaction to fall under retraumatization as well but that fallout has yet to be shown.
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I think some of y’all don’t realize that the “gifted” disabled kids & the ones who were ignored are like a venn diagram but ime it’s largely* a circle. The push to shift the focus from privileged white kids whining abt turning out average to marginalized disabled kids isn’t supposed to say that we were ever more vulnerable or neglected than our peers who weren’t labeled “gifted”, but that the “gifted” label was temporary & we all at some point end up seen & treated as unworthy of anybody’s time or energy. By 2nd grade everyone’s investment in my “gifts” began to deteriorate, by the time I entered middle school I was being mocked & verbally abused by (racist) teachers & family for becoming a failure. This all led to me only having a middle school education, I was not taught at all past 8th grade & neither my teachers or my guardians thought I deserved an education or an effort.
This isn’t to say that the experience isn’t different for us & for ppl who were given up on from the beginning, we should all be willing to acknowledge that for the most part the allegedly “gifted” kids were absolutely less vulnerable to certain forms of abuse than other disabled kids. It’s extremely important that we see that.
But from what I can see this entire conversation happening rn is ppl like me sharing the exact same sentiments & similar stories, all trying to advocate for an end to the neglect & discarding of disabled children, and I’m literally seeing so many ppl straight up say that you don’t care about these people or our stories....it’s a little evil. I can understand seeing ppl talk abt the woes of ppl believing in you for just a moment as a child being annoying if you were never even given that much, at face value. But if you manage to get past that, to see that nobody (who matters) is saying “it hurt my feelings when I learned I wasn’t as ‘smart’ as people thought I was”, but “nothing could protect me or make me exempt from other people’s beliefs that disabled people are useless members of society”, and you can still say that you don’t care....🥴
This post is already long as hell so I won’t get into it™️ too deep but I think a lot of people are also glossing over race & gender in this convo. I’m witnessing literally rn how my nonblack little brother who’s been labeled “challenged” is empathized with & seen as more worthy than I was as a child, mom bringing him to doctors & searching for tutors & giving him her 1 on 1 time & endless patience. And as a black little girl thought to be “gifted” I was simply pulled out of school & no one ever thought about me again. She literally ignores me to my face when I talk about having the same issues learning that he is.
Basically all I want to say is that the way our stories are being received is smelling very much like classic ableism &, frankly, child neglect/abuse apologism. So there’s that.
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Pixelated dog wound.
The real images and vids I took are horrific.
If I hadn’t come for a visit my mother would not have taken her to the fucking vet.
I arrived and my lil bro said “you’ll notice tin has a wound on her neck”
I was assuming just a scratch or idk. Idk what I expected but it wasn’t an open fucking laceration.
I said “she needs to be taken to the vet.”
Mother says “ohhh…. I put cream on it” 🙃🙃🙃🙃
IT WAS A LACERATION, I COULD SEE HER MUSCLE WHAT THE FUCK. ITS NOT SOMETHING THAT YOU PUT BETADINE ON AND GO ON YOUR MERRY FUCKING WAY.
In the Morning she *asks* me if I wanted to take her to the vet. I can’t drive, it was her saying “do you really think she needs it”. She pretended like she had only just noticed how bad it was, and told the vet “it got worse this morning”. Fucking bullshit. Bullshit bullshit bullshit. I asked my bro when the dog attack happened, he said it happened “a few days ago”. I asked my mother in the morning and she said FRIDAY. IT WAS WEDNESDAY THE NEXT WEEK. But it’s okay she put cream on it 🙃 fuck.
I’m so angry this was my life. I’m so angry that it’s my brothers current life. The amount of animal death we have seen is awful. Finding dogs ripped into, ripped apart because she forgot to lock away any vulnerable ones. My mother is a horrible fucking person, and I never ever thought I would say that.
Im so sorry for how awful this all is to read but that’s why I’ve decided to call child services. I need to keep going over these things for my own sanity. To make sure I’m not making it all up.
Why was this normal? Why did you let us live like this? How could you? You are supposed to be a mother and even more laughable, a reputable dog breeder. Fuck you for making me feel sorry for you. Fuck you for actively fostering a fear of my father who was angry at YOU not ME. The time to be a victim is over for you.I can’t keep living like this and upholding your lies.
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Favors of A. Blight Ch. 1
Rating: High T/Low M
Word Count: 2,821
Contains: Mentions of Drug Use and Abuse, Mentions of Child Neglect, Domestic Abuse, Heavily Implied Character Death by Suffocation (You don’t see the death, but you do see the actions leading up to it)
Nobody went outside when it rained on the Boiling Isles. To do so was extremely dangerous, even if one had the proper protections. Needless to say, the residents of the Owl House were surprised when Hooty swung open, announcing, “Luz, that mean friend of yours is here! And she brought friends for me!” On the other side of the threshold, only barely inside the barrier Lilith had managed to conjure that afternoon, were the Blight siblings, huddled together, underneath a massive Abomination.
“Amity!” Luz shouted, vaulting off the couch to latch onto her friend, “Are you ok? It’s raining!” She quickly pulled Amity inside, with Amity’s grip on her elder siblings dragging them in after her.
“Baby Blights?” Eda questioned, “What's going on? Did Odalia see sending your kids out to get mauled by the weather becoming the latest fashion in that busted crystal ball of hers?" When there was no response, beyond Luz shooting her a glare, Eda prodded more, "Seriously kids. What possessed you to come here in this weather? This place isn't exactly 'Blight Appropriate'." As Eda made air quotes, Amity practically collapsed into Luz on the sofa, and so did her Abomination, loosing three bags just inside the doorway as it collapsed into a puddle of goop and boiling water. "Ah, crap. Bug out bags."
"Bug out bags?" Luz questioned, worry creasing her brow as she laid Amity safely on the couch.
"I guess," Edric mumbles, his eyes focused on Amity as he and Emira huddled together tightly.
"How long have you had them?" Eda asks, watching the twins.
"Father packed them," it was Emira who answered, perhaps slightly too loudly, as she quieted her next words, "he gave them to us today. Before he sent us out in the rain."
"Hooty, wake Lily," Eda commanded.
"One Lulu, coming up!" Hooty agreed, almost gleeful as he shut himself.
"Luz, go pour three glasses of apple blood."
"But-" Luz tried to argue
"Now," Eda didn't leave room for argument, and Luz reluctantly got up, casting a look at the gently displaced form of Amity, and then the twins, before making her way to the kitchen.
"We don't drink apple blood," Emira said, before quietly adding, "Mother doesn't allow it."
"Hypocrite," Eda muttered, before saying, "it's not for you. It's gonna keep me up, wake up Lily, and hopefully keep the kid from the worst of the burnout." Neither of them argued against her, though Emira cast a worried look at Amity. "What's going on?"
"I don't know," Edric mumbled, reaching into his pocket, “but father gave me a letter, for you.” He pulled out a plain white envelope with ‘Edalyn’ written on it, in handwriting that almost rivalled chicken scratch in decipherability, extending it to the Owl Lady.
“And I have one for Lilith,” Emira said, producing a similar envelope, with Lilith’s name on it, as Eda unceremoniously ripped open hers with her nail. The room went silent for several moments, as Eda quickly scanned her letter.
The silence was only interrupted by Luz’s entry, carrying three mugs, “I got the apple blood,” she announced, placing the mugs on the coffee table. Eda’s hand quickly shot down, grasping the “30 and flirty” mug and bringing it to her mouth, taking a long, slow drink. Then, she pulled a straw out of her hair, placing it in one of the mugs, a plain black one.
“Give this one to the kid,” Eda told Luz, adding “It’s just to give her bile sac a little boost,” when she saw Luz’s hesitant look.
Luz grabbed the mug,moving to sit beside Amity, who hadn’t moved since Luz had left. “Amity,” Luz said, gently shaking the witch with her free hand, “You need to drink this.”
“I don’t wanna.” Amity mumbled, barely audible, “it smells bad.” She almost burrowed deeper into the couch, as much as she could in her exhausted state.
“Eda said it would help,” Luz promised.
“Medicine?” Amity questioned, her eyes squinting open to look at Luz before shutting quickly
“Yeah, medicine,” Luz agreed, pushing it yet closer to Amity. Amity, seemingly reluctantly, took the straw.
“Disgusting,” Amity commented as her face seemed to pale from the taste, before drinking again as Luz held the mug.
“I paid for that,” Eda grumbled, before gesturing to Edric and Emira. “You two, take a seat. We need to have a serious talk when Lily gets down here.”
“A serious talk about what?” Lilith asked from the hall door as the twins sat down beside their sister. “Why are the Blight children here?” She yawned, leaning against the doorway.
“I have a letter for you,” Emira answered, extending the letter over the coffee table, though careful as to not extend so far as to lose contact with her twin.
“A letter is hardly a good reason to be out at this hour, in this weather,” Lilith said, taking the letter. She looked at the letter, adding, “And I doubt Alador would send all three of his children if it were just to send me a letter.”
“Read the letter Lily,” Eda said, notably somber. Lilith gently opened her letter, pulling out the pages within. The next few moments were silent, broken only when Lilith shifted the papers in her hands. Then again, she shifted the papers, almost frantically seeming to double check something.
“What’s going on?” Luz asked, watching Lilith flip between the pages.
Eda looked at her own letter, then back up to Luz. "I'm not gonna say it twice," she nodded towards Amity, who seemed only present enough to slowly sip the apple blood Luz held for her, "and I think everyone would prefer to be rested to hear it. The baby Blights are gonna be rooming with you tonight."
"Like a sleep over," Luz tried to be cheerful, smiling at the twins, both of whom returned the smile.
"Right, one of those," Eda agreed, "now take them up there." Luz nodded, putting Amity's mug of apple blood in Edric's hands before scooping the exhausted girl into her arms.
"Come on," Luz said, "you can help me make an Amity burrito."
"I don't know what a burrito is," Edric said, following Luz and dragging Emira with him, "but it sounds like it will inconvenience Mittens."
"Shit," Eda said, once the coast was clear.
"That is putting it lightly," Lilith agreed, taking a seat on the now free couch. A moment later, after grabbing her mug of apple blood "What are we going to tell them?"
"Hey kids, we got some good news and some bad news. Good news is Odalia's getting the stick up her ass removed, bad news is Alador's the surgeon?"
"Edalyn!" Lilith nearly spat out her drink as she quietly yelled her admonishment.
"What? We're going to have to rip the bandage off somehow!”
“No! Not like that! This needs a delicate touch!”
“That was delicate,” Eda answered, to a shocked look from Lilith, “I’m not telling you the not delicate option because you’ll get judgy.” There was a brief pause, before Eda amended, “Judgier.”
“Take this seriously!”
“Take what seriously?” King asked as he made his way into the living room from the hallway, “Also I’m sleeping in your nest tonight. Luz invited over the cupcake smasher and two new minions and the room is small as is.”
“Crap. That’s right. We’re gonna need a lot more room,” Eda realized, with some frustration.
“For what?” King asked, before noting the three bags just inside the doorway, “Ooh, bug out bags. Did one of your exes figure out how easy Hooty is to bribe again and we’re gonna leave Lilith to deal with them?”
“He can be bribed?” Lilith questioned.
“No, I fixed that when I told him he could take the bribe and still have his fun,” Eda answered, “The bags are-”
“Wait, no, I got it,” King interrupted, “tax collectors found us and we’re gonna leave Lilith to deal with them?”
“Why am I the one getting left behind”
“No, King,” Eda said, “These aren’t our bags.”
“Then whose,” King began to question, before looking at the bags, and then to the hallway, and finally back to Eda, “No. No? You can’t be serious.”
“Afraid so King,” Eda confirmed
“But I don’t want the cupcake smasher here! The two big minions we can put in a shed, but the little one needs to go. I mean, think about how Hooty feels, she beats him up every chance she gets!”
“Yeah, think about how I feel,” Hooty agreed.
“Shut up Hooty,” Eda and King said in unison, causing the tube to grumble. Eda added, “And while you’re here, grab those bags and take them upstairs.” She signalled the bags on the ground, which Hooty began to devour, causing everyone to look away. “Besides, we can’t send them away. Lily’s their legal guardian now.”
“Well then kick out Lilith,” King suggested.
“Hey! I’m right here!” Eda reminded the demon
“I’m not kicking out my sister,” Eda said, “and I’m not kicking out the kids either. Or putting them in the shed.”
“Why not?” King demanded
“Because I said so,” Eda responded, making King grumble and stare at her. Eda returned the stare, and eventually King looked away, making his way back to the hallway.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Lilith sighed, “the little demon does have a point. There’s not very much room as is.”
“I’m not gonna make you move out Lily,” Eda said, before looking up at the ceiling.
“Alador left more than enough money for a modest home,” Lilith protested.
“Which is more than enough to get the Construction Coven to do some off-the-books work for a lot more space.” Eda suggested, “And I’m sure Hooty wouldn’t mind the expansion.”
“So you want to keep them here so you get a bigger house?”
“Of course not Lily! It’s just… I know what it’s like to have your whole world shaken apart,” Lilith looked down and away from her sister at the comment, “and the last thing you need at a time like that is to have your world shaken more.”
“Edalyn, I-” Lilith tried to apologize.
“Not what we’re talking about right now,” Eda said, finishing off her apple blood and setting her mug on the coffee table, “I’m too sober for more than one serious conversation tonight.” Eda paused for a moment, eyeing the empty mug. “I would have done anything for the kind of stability they can have here. I’m not gonna rip it away from them.”
“Thank you,” Lilith said, adding, after a moment, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. All of this happening at once is… Overwhelming. I would never imagine Alador to do what he says he’s going to. He’s always been more gentle.”
“Withdrawal can do a lot,” Eda commented, “Add in the guilt and all the other emotions he’s got to be feeling. It’s not so unimaginable.”
“Withdrawal? Withdrawal from what?” Lilith questioned, turning to her sister.
“Did your letter,” Eda asked slowly, “not mention anything about it?”
“Obviously not,” Lilith focused on her sister.
“Distraction spell!” Eda yelled, pulling a bag of Hex Mix out of her hair to throw at her sister, and jumped up, only to be caught at the last moment by Lilith.
“Edalyn, that hasn’t worked since I was eight,” Lilith complained, “Now what do you mean by withdrawal?”
“You know how Oracle magic can really start to screw with your head if you’re good at it?” Eda asked
“And you know how memory wiping potions can help?”
“Edalyn!” Lilith was scandalized, “Those are highly illegal!”
“So is everything else I do!” Eda answered, “and he’s hardly the only person who bought them. I thought he was doing it because Odalia was too uptight to get it herself. I didn’t think he was taking it! Let alone mixing it with alcohol.”
“He was mixing an illegal memory potion with alcohol?” Lilith looked like she was ready to feint from shock.
“Should we just trade letters and see what he didn’t tell both of us?” Eda suggested
“No!” Lilith snapped, “He obviously intended us to keep the letters private. Otherwise he'd have sent only one, addressed to both of us."
"Who cares what he intended? It's your letter now," Edalyn reasoned, "Besides shouldn't we both know everything we can about what we're getting into? I thought you'd agree with the smart thing to do."
"I don't think it is the smart thing to do," Lilith answered simply.
"Why not?" Eda demanded, watching her sister.
"I just don't," Lilith stood her ground.
"You're hiding something," Eda stated.
"Oh yeah? Then why won't you tell me why sharing our letters is a bad idea?"
"Because it's personal, Edalyn!" Lilith snapped.
"Who cares? Do you think I'm gonna judge you for whatever Alador told you about looking after his kids?"
"Yes!" Lilith said, to which Eda responded with a curious, almost scheming, look. "Edalyn, no!" It was too late. Eda pounced, grabbing at the letter with one hand and using her other to hold Lilith down by her face. Holding the letter out of Lilith's flailing reach, Eda began to read.
"Alador," Odalia called into her husband's workshop, "where are the children?" When no answer came, she proceeded down the stairs, into the workshop proper. "Alador, answer me," Odalia commanded, approaching her husband, hunched over the work bench against the far wall, placing her hand on it's shoulder
"I'm tired, Odalia," Alador's voice called from beside the stairs. Odalia turned to look, seeing Alador step forward from behind one of the workshop's numerous tarps. Odalia took a step towards Alador, but was stopped when her hand refused to move, beginning to sink into the form slumped over the workbench.
"What is the meaning of this?" Odalia asked, struggling to remove her hand from the Abomination as Alador's features melted away from it.
"I told you, Odalia," Alador's voice was steady, "I'm tired." He grabbed her free hand, pulling it away from her trapped appendage. "I'm tired of this life," he told her, forcing the hand deep into the Abomination.
"Where's your coven mark?" Odalia whispered, her eyes fixed on her husband's bare forearm.
"I left the coven, Odalia," he answered simply, "Didn't you already know?"
"What are you talking about?" Odalia's voice grew more frightened, as she failed to recall any such memory.
"We were going to discuss it, this morning," he crouched down, beginning to move Odalia's legs into the Abomination, "And then I gave you your coffee, and you seemed to just… forget."
"Alador, what did you do?'
"What I had to, Odalia!" He shouted, breaking his calm facade, angry tears beginning to well up as he knelt before his wife. "I've spent the last ten years of our marriage forgetting every moment we spent in the same room. I can't stand you, Odalia."
"SHUT UP!" he roared, "I'm so tired of hearing your Titan damned voice!" He stood up and turned away from her, "I used almost the last bit of my memory potion in your coffee. To get you to shut up and just leave!"
He took a deep, shuddering breath, before he continued, more steadily, "And you left. And I was alone with my thoughts. About you. About us. Our children."
"Alador," Odalia said meekly, "where are the children?"
"Don't pretend to care now," Alador's voice rumbled.
"I'm not pretending!"
"YES YOU ARE! NEITHER OF US CARE FOR OUR CHILDREN!" Before Odalia could respond to the accusation, Alador started a barrage of questions, "What kind of glasses does Edric need? Who's Emira's favorite bard? What is Amity's favorite book series?" When Odalia failed to answer after one second, Alador shouted, "I didn't know either! I spent hours learning about our children by snooping around their rooms to get them what they need! What kind of father does that make me? And what kind of mother, that you've never even wanted to learn."
"I am not a terrible parent," Odalia defended.
"Do you remember our children ever smiling in front of us? At us? I don't, but I can blame that on the memory potion. You can't."
"A Blight doesn't-"
"WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH FOR A DAMN NAME THAT DOESN'T EVEN BELONG TO YOU?" The tears of anger rained freely as he shouted at her, "OUR CHILDREN SHOULD MEAN MORE TO US THAN THEM BEING SOME STUPID LEGACY!" It was a moment before he added, "That's why I sent them to the Owl House. I trust Edalyn Clawthorne to look after our children better than us. And Lily."
"I thought you agreed to stop calling her that."
"I lied. She's the only bright spot I have in these last ten years. I'm not giving that up. Not for you."
"I'm done," he began to walk away, before adding, "Abomination, suffocate."
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I need to be reminded that I’ve done this the right thing in calling child protection. The waiting is killing me and her holding gifts for my fiancé over my head has fucked me up. Cat food being left on the counter until it moves with maggots isn’t normal right? My mum questioning why the cat won’t eat her fucking rotting meat isn’t normal right?
Me being angry as an adult now isn’t just me being dramatic or completely fabricated. I know for a fact I’m not making it up. But she came over to my bro while we were on VC (playin mine craft) and asked if we liked the knife (I’ve made previous posts about the knife situation). And on principle I feel like a massive asshole bc I said we don’t want it and we don’t want to talk to you.
I’ve since spoken to my fiancé and he’s said “do gifts make up for neglecting you as kids? For making you feel like you weren’t people? To let you guys live in literal filth and not explain why?” That is true. But bc of the hold my mother has over me I instantly felt like I had basically sinned against her. By speaking out to her and trying to get her to realise that she’s really fucked up her life and our lives on her own? I can’t put the puzzle pieces together. I don’t know how to stop feelin guilty for being rude to her.
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In the group with mother and my sister. My sister is pregnant and looking at property and my mum is joking about me being a live in babysitter. Like didn’t you use me as that for years?
Yeah mother just give me parental responsibility because I have a natural maternal instinct and you wanted to play video games. That I wouldn’t let him go without love/care/food/reassurance because you couldn’t be fucked properly caring for him after the age of 3.
The child with diagnosed autism who is currently only 12 and has no choice but to live in YOUR filth. The child who straight up asked you to book a therapy appointment for him (a month ago) and you looked at him like he fucking offended you. Who you have never ever gotten specialised help for? (Let alone therapy in general even tho it’s free through headspace) It’s not funny. None of it is funny.
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Writing down all the gross stuff she’s done and said is really helping me to stand firm in my decision. That this is not just me making shit up bc she makes me question everything about myself whenever I questioned her. And when the fallout finally happens I’ll be strong enough to deflect her anger, her denial. I don’t want to live as an extension of her anymore and that means no more agreeing with everything she says and coddling her even if it was a horrible thing to say and do.
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HEADCANON ; LOGAN - FATHER / CHILDHOOD
logan has never had a stable or healthy relationship with his father. even during childhood there was a heavy sense of disconnect there. his father was too invested in the company - paid very little attention and shew very little interest in logan. instead , logan was passed from nanny to nanny and grew up seeing his father as more decoration than an active part of his life. this heavily affected logan and by the time he was a teenager , he was doing the wildest of things to try and gain his fathers attention - this just resulted in him being sent to different boarding schools in an attempt to try and correct his behaviour but this just taught logan that he was expendable , not wanted around.
drugs / alcohol became were something that logan had begun to experiment with in his late teens / early twenties and from there became a big part of his life. combined with sex , it was a way to feel something , anything other than the hollow emptiness that has been following him around since he was a kid. logan tends to go to extremes. some of it is for attention - he likes to be looked at , is so desperate to be adored by complete strangers because his own father couldn’t love him. so he throws money around - he’ll host and attend wild parties to try and get into the media ( which for him isn’t hard ). when it comes to relationships , logan is never looking for anything serious because he doesn’t think he’s someone who can be loved. his father taught him there was nothing loveable about him - and so logan punishes himself for that. when things get too serious he’ll fuck it up - cheat on the person he’s with or he’ll get high and self destruct enough it pushes that person away. attachments - commitment - it terrifies logan.
he’d rather throw money at a problem than deal with it too , something he learned from his father. if he upset someone he cares about - providing he gives a fuck ( even if he pretends he doesn’t ) , he’d rather buy them something expensive , flashy , than admit he was wrong or apologise. logan delo/s never apologises if he can help it , because his father had it beaten into him that apologies make you weak.
the lack of love from his father - and the broken relationship has effected logan tremendously even if he won’t admit to it. he’s constantly looking to the other man for approval , so desperate to be the son he wants so when william is made heir apparent , logan just self destructs once more - because it’s clear that his father has given up on him and at this point , wouldn’t care if logan lived or died. logan isn’t important to him. so he discards him.
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Title: Memory Lane
Characters: Micolash Host of the Nightmare, Laurence the first Vicar
Word Count: 4.384
Summary: Micolash travels home from Byrgenwerth for summer vacation, but during the trip, he thinks about why he doesn't want to go back...
(Author's note: That actually is part of a trade for @popskipandajump @sketchygabz on tumblr. She wanted a story of Micolash's past of my version, which isn't a happy one...
Warnings for child abuse and child neglect. Also, Laurence is tagged there, but he isn't in this fic much, sorry Laurence!)
“Aren't you travelling home for the vacation, Laurence?”, Micolash asked his friend, a bit confused about why he wasn't entering one of the carriages that carted off students to the various places around Byrgenwerth since summer vacation had started this morning.
“My parents are dead, remember.”, Laurence replied, crossing his arms. “And I don't have any other relatives. Master Willem took me in, so I have to stay at the school. Don't you worry though, Gehrman promised to me that we would explore the woods together and play in the lake on hot days. Don't forget to write though, I will make sure to reply once I have your home address.”
Micolash smiled at Laurence as he entered the carriage. “I won't.”, he promised. Micolash waved to Laurence and sat down in the carriage, waiting for the other passengers to enter so that it could take off. Looking out of the window, he could still see Laurence standing there, waving to him. Micolash waved back, sighing as he thought that he would prefer to stay with Laurence and Gehrman for the summer. In truth, Micolash didn't want to go home.
It was something that Micolash hadn't told his now two close friends. Both Laurence and Gehrman always spoke so fondly about their parents, so he never had brought the subject of his own parents up... and he planned to keep it that way, this was something they didn't need to know.
Micolash stopped looking out of the window when Laurence decided to leave to make room for a few more passengers wanting to enter and looked at them instead. A small family entered last, a typical family, a mother, a father and a small child, maybe five or six years old.
The child happily sat themselves on their mother's lap once the family had settled in and Micolash could see how she carefully stroked over the hair of her child. As the carriage started to move, for they were the last passengers, Micolash asked himself if that was how Laurence' mother had treated him. Laurence always spoke with such great fondness of her...
Micolash's own mother on the other hand...
Micolash barely remembered his mother. He was aware that at some point during his life, a mother had been present. He remembered faint things, feelings, impressions. Like soft hands picking him up and gently rocking him, a voice singing to him, being hugged and comforted when he was upset.
What he couldn't remember was a face to the woman who must have been his mother. There was only one thing he remembered very clearly. The last words she ever spoke to him before vanishing forever.
“I can't take this anymore... Mico... I am so sorry... Please forgive me...”
The next thing that Micolash remembered was the shutting of a door and him having waddled over, confused about what just happened. He must have been only three or four back then, far too young to connect the dots, even younger than the child opposite of him, currently sitting on their mother's lap, not having a worry in the world. He did need a long time to understand what had happened. His mother had abandoned him, had left him alone, to never come back, and, Micolash had to admit this to himself, he didn't feel like forgiving her for it.
His gaze went from the child to the man who must be the father of the small family. He looked gentle and his gaze was full of fondness for his wife and child. It reminded Micolash of Gehrman's father, who, while a strict man who made sure that Gehrman didn't slack on his duties, always was there when his son needed him.
Micolash's own father on the other hand? Micolash couldn't remember a single day in his life where his father hadn't been drunk. Being drunk was pretty much his normal state. He always had some kind of bottle with him and would drink out of it, swaying from side to side, reeking of wine. He often ignored Micolash in his drunken state, though the days in which Micolash remained ignored could be considered the good days.
The days in which his father was hyper aware of Micolash's presence... were the worst ones...
On those days, Micolash couldn't even make a single peep without upsetting his father. Even when he just shifted around or went to fetch something and the gods forbid that Micolash dropped something or forgot to avoid the creaky floorboards on his way outside.
His father would be in front of him with such a speed that it frightened Micolash. When Micolash was lucky, he would simply get screamed at. That he shouldn't make such noise, that he should be lucky that he had a roof over his head and that he was allowed to go to school instead of dying outside in some ditch. Micolash was used to this kind of words. Sure, they stung, but it was nothing that he couldn't endure.
It hurt a lot more when his father decided to put his mother into the mix and told him that she didn't ever bother to take him with her and that meant how much she hated him and that he never had been loved by her, only having been bothered by his very existence and that it was him and his constant screaming and being fuzzy when he still had been a baby that drove her out. Micolash always had to suppress his tears when his father started with it... he even almost started to believe that he was at fault for his mother leaving.
However, simply being screamed at, even though it hurt a lot inside of him, was still better as when his father decided that he had enough of him making so much noise and silenced him with his fist.
The first time it had happened, Micolash had barely registered it. He just stared with wide eyes at his father, raising a hand to notice that his nose bled and then starting to sob uncontrollably, not understanding why it had happened or what he did wrong to get such a reaction, which had made... everything worse...
For when Micolash didn't want to calm down, his father dealt with him by shutting him into the closet. It was dark in there, narrow, far too warm and it smelled horrible, mostly of alcohol and vomit, and Micolash was sure he would have been able to see stains of dried up puke on the clothes if it wouldn't have been so dark.. and if he wouldn't have been so terrified of being locked in there.
Locking Micolash into the closet was his father's usual method when Micolash annoyed him, which was far more often than Micolash liked, and Micolash started to dread the closet so much. He was left in there for hours, sometimes his father even left their home without releasing him and Micolash had to sit in there, waiting, panicking, hoping that he would come back, hoping that he would get out before he would starve, trying his best to avoid making a mess when he was left in their for hours, only to be punished when it happened regardless, making the situation into nothing more but a vicious cycle for Micolash.
“Oh dear, are you feeling alright? You are awfully pale.”
Micolash got snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm and when he looked to his right, aware of how laboured his breathing had become, he spotted the face of an elderly woman, a kind smile, with her greyish hair being put into a bun on heir head, wearing a checkered dress. He didn't reply right away, because the sight in front of him stirred another memory and for a second he felt like had seen a ghost.
“Are you about to get sick maybe? Do you need for the carriage to stop?”
Micolash slowly shook his head, trying to force his face into a smile, which felt extremely difficult. He hoped he looked at least half convincing, though he knew his face wasn't exactly pretty (Laurence even called him a gremlin sometimes and Micolash couldn't deny it), though he hoped that he didn't look anymore like he was about to throw up.
“No, I am fine.”, he finally answered. “Just thought about... something unpleasant.”
“Well then, but don't hesitate to say something should you feel unwell.”, the old woman said and Micolash was aware that the rest of the passengers stared at him as well, he must have looked a lot more uncomfortable than he thought.
“I will. Sorry for worrying you.”, he said and felt how the old woman let go of his arm, but he still felt his gaze on her. Micolash decided to stop looking at the passengers from which a few still were staring at him and out of the window again.
The elderly woman sitting next to him... at first glance, she looked like the striking image of Micolash's neighbour. Micolash and his father lived in a small shack at the border of Hemwick Chapel Lane and this elderly woman had lived there too. Apparently, she was alone, either she never had married or her husband had died and her children and grandchildren were out of the house. It wasn't something Micolash bothered a lot with.
This woman had been a big reason why Micolash had survived after his mother had left.
“Mooom, I am hungry!”, the small child of the family suddenly complained, breaking Micolash briefly out of his thoughts when he saw their mother soothe them and find something for them to eat, which they eagerly took.
Food was something that wasn't a constant in Micolash's life and the reason why his elderly neighbour had been so important for him plus the fact that he could escape his father when he stayed at her place.
Micolash's father didn't have a steady job. No wonder, the drunkard he was. He worked wherever he would be needed and whoever found enough pity in themselves to employ him. Micolash's father probably thought that his son didn't know about this, but Micolash always listened when he walked through the village, he heard the rumours, the facts, he knew how disliked his father was in the village. He also heard the rumours about himself. That a child with such a father couldn't get right, that it was no wonder that his mother had left and that they feared the day when Micolash would grow up into a copy of his father. It didn't surprise him that the other children avoided him, sometimes even thought about bullying him. Micolash didn't bother, they got bored when he ignored them and his father did far more worse things than their words could do to him and their mean spirited pranks didn't hurt as much as being shut in the closet or being beaten until he bled.
But Micolash loathed it when he was compared to his father. He even loathed himself then. He never would become like his father, he swore to himself, though deep down inside of him, he very much feared that it would still happen...
Because of his many odd jobs, Micolash's father generally didn't bring a lot of coins home, and the coins he brought home, he normally used to buy more alcohol. It was rare that his father brought food home and if, then it often was just some old bread or leftovers, probably from a meal he had bought for himself and then brought back home some scraps when he remembered that Micolash existed and people probably would start to ask questions if they boy wouldn't be seen in the village or at school anymore.
During this time, the elderly neighbour took care of Micolash once she realized that he got thinner and thinner from malnourishment. Even though she didn't have much, she gladly shared the bit she had with him, pretty much saving Micolash from starvation. It had been shortly after his mother had left, when Micolash was still far too small to take care of himself. He couldn't remember too much, but he remembered how much more drunk his father had gotten after his mother left, and Micolash went largely ignored during that time... but in the bad way, in the way that he was basically non-existent for his father...
If not for his elderly neighbour having invited him into her shack and giving him food, Micolash probably would have died there sooner or later, for the bit of food that his father sometimes remembered to bring along, barely did anything to quell his hunger...
Micolash liked being at her house. She gave him food, she didn't get mad at him when he was a bit noisier while playing and he didn't have to fear getting punished when he messed up. He only could stay there though when his father was absent, because his father was very much against him staying at some random stranger's house and always would get him and get into a fight with his neighbour when Micolash wouldn't be back on time.
When Micolash was around six years old, his neighbour decided to teach him to prepare his own food. She started with raw food first, showing Micolash how to prepare a sandwich or a fruit bowl or a salad. However, Micolash was clever enough to figure out how the stove worked, so she switched over to teach him how to cook. They were all rather simple recipes, but it meant that Micolash didn't have to rely so much on his neighbour anymore and could prepare food in his own home... and sometimes it even put him into the favour of his father, when he came home and Micolash had prepared some food he enjoyed. Those were good days, where nothing bad happened to him... should Micolash fail the food however... He shuddered at the memory.
However, for a child of six years it was awfully difficult to chop firewood, so Micolash couldn't prepare cooked food too often. He was forbidden from taking any of the firewood his father might have chopped, probably because it was needed for the winter and his father would just chop enough that they would not freeze. Micolash was pretty sure that his father never had used the stove himself, in fact, he needed to clean the whole thing out when he started to use it. Without proper firewood, he couldn't use it very well though, so Micolash was often collecting branches and dry leaves to at least have something to burn and cook a warm meal once in a while.
While he heard of a fancy thing called a gas stove which they had in cities like Yharnam, Micolash was sure that they never would get it, especially because they never would have enough coins to pay for that gas that they needed for such a stove to function. He still was interested in how such a stove would function and secretly wished that one day he could try out a stove that didn't need to be fuelled with wood.
The coins they had, or more, the coins his father gave him once he realized that Micolash would cook for him, were barely enough to even organize the food. His father still put most of his coins into buying more wine and while the coins would be enough for food for one person, Micolash had to cook for himself too. He would have preferred not having to share the little bit of food he had at all, but he knew he had to give his father the bigger serving or he would get punished, and Micolash didn't want to get locked into the closet again...
That is why the elderly neighbour started to show Micolash how to scavenge for food as well as grow his own food. She had a little garden and showed him how to plow the ground, sow the seeds and raise vegetables on his own. There wasn't that much growing in Hemwick, but Micolash managed to grow a few vegetables, like carrots, cabbage and turnips.
Micolash also got shown how to gather wild herbs and mushrooms. He had to learn a lot, because a lot of these wild plants weren't edible, downright poisonous. Micolash documented them all on the blank pages of his school books, not having enough coins to buy a notebook for his own. His teacher once wanted to scold him for scribbling in his books, but didn't say anything when she saw what Micolash had written down.
He also got taught how to fish and how to set traps to catch small animals. Fishing often wasn't successful, for Micolash didn't have a good fishing rod and always had to craft one himself. At least looking for earthworms to use as bait was kind of entertaining, he kind of liked digging in the mud, even though it left him dirty and when he would make the shack dirty... Micolash often had to clean himself in the river before getting home.
Traps were a bit more effective, but it was hard for Micolash when he had his first catch and then had to realize that meat meant having to kill a small little animal. He pretty much refused to do it the first time and only slowly took to it... up until to a point where it became so natural for him that he didn't even think about it anymore. Everything he caught meant that he didn't have to go to bed without a full belly and also that he could get his father into a somewhat good mood.
During this time, his life managed to get almost pleasant... until his elderly neighbour died when he was eight years old.
From one day to the other, Micolash had lost his safe place. Now he had to spend all his time at home or wandering the village, which wasn't possible when it rained or snowed, and because the elderly neighbour had taught Micolash how to do household chores, and Micolash had started to clean around the shack, his father now had extraordinary high expectations of him.
If the shack wasn't clean enough, he would get mad. If a dish wasn't to his liking, he would get mad. If he didn't have any clean laundry, he would get mad. Micolash actually asked himself why he was allowed to go to school when all his free time was spent with household chores anyway. Because of that, Micolash would often stay up beyond bedtime and learn for school, for he vowed to himself that he would never end up like his father and learn something good. Luckily, learning came easily to him, very easily. He didn't need long to understand how something worked and managed to pass all his tests with flying colours.
One day Micolash figured that his father would always have something to criticize, so he stopped giving a damn. He would end up in the closet or with a black eye one way or another, so he decided to use his extra time for learning for school and food scavenging, for he hoped he could save a bit of coins to one day leave this place, when he grew up.
Unfortunately, his father found out that Micolash mostly scavenged for food and stopped giving him coins, leaving Micolash with his very small savings that were nowhere enough to get him anywhere. Micolash used his little stash to buy something that he never had dared to try before, for how expensive it was. It was a sweet, something called a chocolate bar and he had never tried something so exquisite and tasty. When he sat at the river, enjoying it, tears ran down his face when he thought that other children could enjoy this treat every single day.
Micolash's life pretty much continued like this and he almost came to terms with that he would either be forever stuck in Hemwick until his father died or had to run away with no coins whatsoever, when his teacher one day talked to him. His grades were so good, she wanted to recommend him to a school named Byrgenwerth, a school in which children and young adults with his skills could study. The best thing about it... the school was a bit off the road, in the middle of a forest, so that the students would stay there for the duration of the school year.
Micolash's face only fell when he heard about the sum he would have to pay to enter. That was impossible for him, especially because he barely got any coins anymore. He knew Father would never pay the tuition, for all their coins were used up for the wine he drank everyday.
That was when Micolash's teacher told him about a stipend. He would have to pass a certain test and then someone else would cover the tuition for him. Micolash, more than eager to get away from this place, as well as wanting to learn even more, accepted and managed to pass the test.
On the day he left, he didn't even tell his father about it. He wrote a letter and slipped it under the door when he went to sleep, then he quietly packed the few things he possessed and left for the carriage. Back then, he hadn't thought about ever going back. He hadn't taken into account that he would get sent home for vacation.
And now he was sitting in the carriage. The carriage that was getting him home. Where he had to face his father and explain to him where he went. Where he probably would get locked into the closet for three days if he was lucky. Micolash hadn't even noticed how he had started shuddering. He didn't, no, he couldn't get back to this place. He had worked so hard to get out of it, it wasn't fair that he had to go back, to this man that never loved him, to that shack that never had been a home, to a place where the only person helping him was long dead.
“Hemwick Chapel Lane. Everyone who wants to get off, please exit.” Micolash jerked up when he heard the name of his stop and got up in an instant, walking to the exit as if he was in a trance. He could feel the gazes of all the passengers on him, only now realizing how much he was shaking. If he would get out there... then his father would have control over him again, and Micolash didn't know if he had the strength to leave another time.
“What's the matter? Is this your station or not?”, the carriage driver asked as Micolash still didn't move.
“No, it isn't.”, Micolash finally said and sat back down. “I am sorry, I want to leave at Byrgenwerth Forest station.”
The carriage driver just gave him a deep look, for that was the station where Micolash had entered, but then shrugged. Micolash took a deep breath when he noticed all the other passengers staring at him, even the small child that had been the start of his trip down memory lane.
“Are you feeling alright?”, the mother of the family asked. “Aren't you a student of Byrgenwerth? Is there a place where you can... stay?”
Micolash didn't reply right away. He would even sleep in the woods if he had to, but... he would go back to Byrgenwerth and ask if he could stay there for the vacation. Laurence and Gehrman were also there, he wouldn't count much, and he could offer to cook. He just hoped that Master Willem didn't have a reason to send him away...
“I'll figure something out.”, he instead replied and the parents shared a look before getting their attention demanded by their offspring. Next to him, the old woman that reminded him so much of his elderly neighbour gave him a pat and said.
“There's no reason to stay at a place you feel unhappy in. Walking away was the best thing that ever happened to me... and I hope you find your place to stay as well.”
Micolash gave her a smile and then looked out of the window.
“Never again.”, he decided as the carriage started moving and left Hemwick Chapel Lane behind him. Never again would Micolash return to this place, from now on, he would build his own life. One day, he might have friends and even subordinates that would research with him and should he make enemies.. well, he would make sure to show them that they couldn't mess with him.
On the way back, Micolash relaxed gradually. The sun was already starting to set when the carriage was back at Byrgenwerth Forest, but Micolash didn't mind, crossing the forest to the school before it set completely and setting foot in the common room, where a pretty confused Laurence got up from the couch, abandoning the book he had read and came over to him.
“Micolash? Didn't you want to go home for the vacations?”, he asked.
“Laurence...”, Micolash said. “There's something I have to tell you...”
Micolash then confessed the whole deal about his upbringing to Laurence and once he was done, breathing heavily and tears staining his eyes, Laurence never once having left his side, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his friend said: “Let's go speak to Master Willem.”
Micolash was allowed to stay in the school during the vacations from now on, only sometimes having to leave to take a new test for his stipend, which Master Willem organized in Yharnam though, Laurence' hometown, so that Micolash didn't had to get back to Hemwick Chapel Lane anymore.
Micolash never went back to this place, instead, he started his own life, and his own school. And even though he broke ties with his old friends eventually, he never regretted his decision.
For in the Nightmare of Mensis was all the knowledge of the Great Ones and why should he ever want to leave the home he made for himself?
(Author's note: Not gonna lie, this feels a bit clunky to me. I practically rewrote the entire thing also from the first draft and only left like the last few paragraphs. I didn't give any names to the characters outside of Micolash and Laurence, because I didn't want to flesh them out too much.
I hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you thought in the comments.)
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Marion is six years old when her parents tell her it’s too dangerous for her to leave the house anymore. There are people out there that will hurt her, they say. Because she’s different, they tell her, glancing at her horns and tail. She watches Celeste play with the neighborhood children from her window, and wishes she were normal so she could play with them too.
(it isn’t until she’s much older that she learns the truth, her twin sister sneering that she’s an embarrassment, a curse, that their parents wish she’d never been born. she learns that rumors about demon deals tarnished the family’s reputation so badly they had to move. that no one outside of immediate family and the servants even knows she exists.)
But habits are hard to break, especially when they’re so deeply rooted in trauma, so it’s another three years before Marion works up the courage to leave her parents’ home for good, aided by her Aunt Genevieve.
(and perhaps the Lavish Chateau is nothing but another prison. but, she reasons, at least this one is of her own making.)
Babenon is quietly horrified by stories of her childhood, the casual way in which she dismisses her own trauma. He cannot fathom how anyone could treat such a sweet, gentle soul so cruelly. He vows to be better, to do better by her. He doesn’t need two decades to realize how horribly he failed.
(He meets her Aunt Gen, the last time she comes to see Marion perform. She tells him privately that she’s dying, and he promises to take care of her niece, to love her until his dying breath. It’s her voice he hears in his head when the self loathing creeps in, reminding him of all his sins.)
Marion learns of her Aunt Genevieve’s passing from a letter sent by her parents. It’s cold, distant, the first contact they’ve made since she left. They tell her not to come to the funeral. She doesn’t think she could have made the trip if she wanted to. She’s six months pregnant, already grieving the loss of her fiance, and this pushes her over the edge. She’s bedridden for over a month, and if she weren’t the Lavish Chateau’s most valuable asset, she might worry about being turned out on the street.
(Aunt Gen leaves her entire estate to Marion, and the sum is enough to buy the Chateau and then some. So she does.)
When she gives birth to her daughter, in the middle of a summer storm, she names her Genevieve.
When Genevieve is six years old, she tells Marion that she wants to be called Jester.
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Can we have a Cam breaking down in front of alex and zee? I'm quite curious how he would react if he can't keep his feeling hidden anymore because it got too much. (Sorry Cam, still love you)
im not sure if you wanted it for a specific reason but I picked a painful issue for cam to be the catalyst for this. thank you! ❤
cw: drug use and addiction, death of a parent, unhappy family dynamics, cam says some less than pleasant things, child neglect, abandonment issues, overdose mention, bbu
Cam came in already pissed about something, toeing off his shoes in annoyance and tossing his keys onto the counter.
Automatically, Alex looked to Zee, making sure he was not in the direct line of fire or cringing like a kicked dog.
He was cross-legged on the floor under a lamp, doing the word search Alex picked up for him at the grocery store checkout line. The two of them called word searches “reading lite”, because it was easier on him than trying to read lines of text, but still let him improve in small increments. He looked up at Cam’s arrival, pencil hovering over the pulpy page.
“Bad tippers?” Alex asked dryly. Part of him knew Cam and Zee had some weird truce now, an alliance, but his instincts from last year readied him to jump up and get between them if need be.
Cam didn’t take the opportunity to sneer at him for his comment. He half-expected him to go slam the bathroom door for his after-work shower, but he dropped himself rather violently onto his sofa, tossed his phone onto the table so carelessly that Alex winced.
Zee watched him openly, a crease of concern appearing between his brows. “Cam?”
“Yeah?” Cam said sharply. “What is it I can do for you? Since everyone’s asking tonight.”
“Hey,” Alex snapped. “He’s just being nice, douchebag.”
Cam glared at his facedown cell phone on Alex’s coffee table, as if it had a hand in his troubles. A muscle in his jaw jumped, mouth a firm line.
“I know,” he said, quieter this time. “Sorry, Zee.”
Zee shook his head, a little wide-eyed. Don’t be.
Cam swallowed like it was difficult, put his face in his hands.
Zee uncrossed his legs, pushed himself gracefully to his feet and climbed onto the couch beside Cam, just like Alex had watched him do months ago on Cam’s bed at the house. He’d been stoned that afternoon, watching with a hazy mixture of tenderness and discomfort as Cam accepted that passive, use-me comfort from their boxboy.
Cam sniffed wetly, dragged his hands down his face. His eyes were bloodshot now, face flushed. He wouldn’t look at either of them.
“I kind of wish she’d just died when I was little,” he said finally.
There was a beat of heavy silence.
“Your mom?” Zee asked gently.
It made Alex’s chest tight to hear the strain of tears in Cameron’s voice.
“Then it would just be good memories. Well. Mostly. It would be sad, and it would be tragic and shit. Not… fucking stupid like it is now. She’s not dead, she’s just this close to it all the time.” He put his thumb and forefinger together, only a centimeter between them.
“When I was fourteen she got arrested, and my dad told me, because he was drunk. I thought he was going to say she’d overdosed. That she’d died. In that five seconds before he said what actually happened, I’d accepted it in my head. Like, swallowed it.”
Alex closed his laptop. He got up and went closer, so he could keep his voice low and still be heard. “What’s got her on your mind?”
Cam laughed bitterly. “She was overdue for hitting me up for money, I guess. It’s been six months or so, that's about right. My grandparents wont speak to her and my dad's dead, so. Ding ding ding!”
“She called you?”
“She showed up at my work,” he answered, finally looking Alex in the eye. He nearly lost his composure and turned away. Alex surpressed the instinct to reach for him.
“I just want her to leave me the fuck alone. That’s what she chose to do, so stick to it, you know? Have some conviction.”
He covered his face again, pulling his long legs up so he could tuck his head by his knees. Alex expected him to bolt any second, but Zee leaned his forehead against his shoulder and Cam leaned back so their heads were touching. He laughed at himself tearfully and took his hands off his face so he could pull Zee in close.
“I’m sorry I was mean to you,” he whispered, and for a moment Alex thought he meant every time, that he was apologizing for the whole time they’d known one another. Maybe he was. Maybe he only meant just now, when he had walked in angry and snapped at him.
Zee returned the embrace, whispered something Alex didn't catch.
Alex leaned his head back against the sofa, watching them. He reached out and touched the back of Cam’s neck, and Cam didn’t flinch or pull away. He moved closer, angling sideways so he could better stroke Cam’s hair.
Cam took his left hand off Zee to extend it toward him. Surprised, Alex took it, stroked his forearm with his thumbs. Cam usually hated his sympathy. He was terrified it was born from pity, that Alex saw them as leagues apart in very way.
He didn’t pity Cam, though. That was the thing. He never had, even when he didn't love him.
He brought Cam’s hand to his mouth, kissed his knuckles knowing he’d feel it, even with his head buried in Zee’s shoulder.
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I miss my dad so much holy shit. Fuck the universe for giving me an absent mom, I want my papa back. Aaaand now I sound like a five year old.
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I wanna post this on fb but my mum will take it as a personal attack. Bc it is lol. Begging for a response? Bc I finally started standing up to her? But she’s the victim. She’s the victim of post natal depression. She blames me for it. Im her first kid. I’m 24.
She never got help and that’s not my fucking fault. Why did she make it feel like I had purposely went through meconium aspiration? Like I had a traumatic birth on purpose? She has pointed to her stretch marks with hatred multiple times. Saying “YOOOUUU ARE TO BLAME FOR THAT” then half laughing like it was a joke.
Motherhood wasn’t a privilege nor a gift for her. Neither was womanhood. She always spoke about it like it was embarrassing, weak, beneath us, stay at home mums who WANT to stay at home? She really made out like it was pathetic. Even tho she has basically subsisted off my fathers income for decades now. She is a stay at home mum but without actually mothering.
Hearing my mum deflect and play the victim over VC with my lil brother when my father confronts her about how she ignores her clearly squalid surroundings? That she is the direct cause of it all and has been since me sister and I were children. Way before my brother was even a thought. And hearing her say “Is /my name/ there?? Tell her Daddy is being silly”.
Nah. Just because I spoke to you out of necessity today doesn’t mean you can confide in me through my pre teen brother. She’s drunk as fuck like always. Her pathetic scream of “ME?????” When my father actually confronted her. Yes you. YOU let my brother get to the age of 12 with out teaching him how to tell the time. How to tie his shoes. How to wash a dish. How to turn on the washing machine. How and why to bathe regularly. I’m seeing a repeat of my own childhood but amped up to the fucking max. Fuck I taught him how to make bloody 2 minute noodles literally a month ago. He had no idea. He asked if you take all the plastic off first. If you put it all in the microwave or use the jug.
I love him so much and I’m promising things will get better because I’ll make sure of it. I think I’ve always loved him as my child more than my mum did. I don’t know if it’s because she parentalized me since I was young bc I was the oldest or what. But she has checked out. He is at one of the most critical stages of his life and all she can do is play video games. It’s not even the bare minimum.
I don’t want to have to be the adult in this situation. I don’t want to be his main/only source of real guidance. I just want to be his fun older sister like I’m supposed to be.
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Just because I was a parental figure didn’t mean that I was a good one. Namely because I was 8 and frankly shouldn’t have been in that position. Same for Patton when I feel like being fair to him. We needed to be the adults in the room but that doesn’t mean we were good adults and it definitely wasn’t good for our mental health to be forced there.
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I feel really bad for Pearly. At age 8, when a child should be in like... second grade, she didn’t know anything about the world because of how sheltered she was in Kurain by my aunt (Morgan). It almost seems very cultish, except we’re allowed to go out and stuff, it’s just she never went out until she met Phoenix. Nick, seriously, I can’t thank you enough, not only for the times you proved me innocent in court but for helping watch over Pearl and keeping her out of trouble. Thanks to you she was able to learn more about the world, and not have to be around Morgan for long anymore. (and I’m sorry she assumed we were a couple 😭 I know that made you cringe lol)
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