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#hints at child abuse

fluffydice · 6 months

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I think one day I’d like to write something about Kusuke and Kusuo trying to have an actual sibling relationship, but I also think it would be painful. There’s a degree of bittersweetness in any universe that Kusuke mistreated Kusuo surrounding them making up, whether from Kusuo trying to learn to recover from it all (or at least not be in survival mode around him) or Kusuke being forced to learn things about himself while trying to connect with his brother/become a better person.

#they drive me crazy and I’m unsure if it’s in a good way or not #Ill be straight up I don’t like Kusuke #but I’m also more sensitive when it comes to familial abuse #And I know with families that experience that (especially between siblings rather than a parent and a child) it’s very fucking complicated #I think I get Kusuke’s character uncomfortably well even if I usually boil him down to simply an antagonist in my fics #my closest hint at that is probably in Status Quos tbh #saiki k #tw abuse

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sweetiebean00 · 1 month

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Of Dark Arts

Listen, this one imo is gonna get a wee bit maybe more dark? Then again this is the bit with the Scriptorium. Warnings for implied abuse, implied child abuse, implied a lot of shit - please be safe reading this guys I personally have been writing Ominis perspective in a mix of "I can't see how is things being done" and Toph Beifong xD

Ominis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued down the corridor with his wand guiding him. Talking to Sebastian had been a mistake. That much Ominis is certain of. With a deep breath, he ignored his friend. Ignored the pleading, the bargaining, the ceaseless badgering as he was followed from Potions back to the common room. Pain formed in the back of his neck, trailing up his skull as his mind raced with memories he didn't want to remember. With words, voices, and moments he could never stop reliving. Not even in his dreams.

"For the last time Sebastian, I said no." Ominis whirled on his heel, wand jabbing his friend in the chest. He forced a breath in through his nose, slowly releasing it out his mouth at the cold sensation winding itself along his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing good lying along this path."

Sebastian huffed, smacking the wand away. He could hear his friend as he paced, his steps more like stomps. Ominis refused to budge, refused to be moved by pleas. By begs, barters, and guiltless tactics of manipulation and wordplay. Yes, he cared for Anne. Yes, he wanted her back at Hogwarts with them as much as Sebastian did. However, Salazar's Scriptorium wouldn't have anything in it that was good, that would help anyone but Salazar Slytherin himself. Ominis refused to even think about it, to even share what his ancestor had been obsessed with. The Dark Arts were dark for a reason, they were not to be trifled with. They most certainly wouldn't bring anyone any healing, any help.

"What are you two going on about?"

Ominis straightened, cheeks warming as he turned in the direction of the soft voice. Celia. He frowned, hearing her soft barely there steps echoing throughout the empty corridor. He could hear them talking, hear Sebastian swaying her to his side using information that was not his to share. If it was anyone else, Ominis would've yelled. Interrupted in some way, shape, or form. But it wasn't just anyone. It was her.

Celia Clyde.

The one witch he couldn't get off his brain for the life of him. The warm feel of curves pressed into him, her soft skin beneath his. The smell of her even was enough to keep him up at night. His dreams didn't help, hearing her voice calling to him like she did in the Room of Requirements, the press of her against his chest like in the Undercroft.

Only this time there weren't clothes separating them, only this time when she called his name it was a cry. A mixture of pleasure and lust that left a chill down his spine and goosebumps breaking out across his skin. Left him waking with her name on his lips, with her scent in his nose. That heady smell of fruit dancing from the trees, of old books mingling with that thick spicy smell of a candle burning. Left him waking hot and aching, his blood burning and pants tight and constricting as he heaved a breath. Left him casting a silencing charm before his mind was pretending the hand wrapping around him was smaller and unable to hold him properly. Pretending the hand had longer fingers with barely there-calluses as hot air puffed around him as pouty lips parted and-

Ominis took a breath, breaking from his thoughts only for her to be filling his nostrils another time in the last few hours. Only for it to be real and not the vivid imaginations of a sixteen-year old boy. He willed his body to obey, shoving every thought he's ever had of one of his closer friends away as she stood only a few steps away from him.

"Hello Ominis."

Ominis had to stop himself from frowning. Something wasn't right, that old parchment and ink smell was stronger, almost overwhelming the rest of her scent. He could hear a sort of rattle in her chest, like a toy in a wooden box being rolled about. She cleared her throat, and he had to stop himself from pressing his fingers to her throat. From finding her pulse point to feel the heart that beat beneath because... because it shouldn't be beating as fast as it sounds. There was something... off. Her voice was tired, verging on strained.

The joy is real, the cheer and utter delight in her tone is entirely genuine. She's happy to see him, and she had the same light airy notes with Sebastian, only a tad calmer with the other Slytherin. He wanted to smile at the way she read his mood, at the way she came across softer when needed. Instead, it only added to that feeling in that something wasn't quite right, only added to the checklist inside his head of mannerisms he was noticing, of behaviors that didn't sit well when a spotlight was shined on them just right.

"Good afternoon, Celia." He licked his lips, breathing a sigh at the way her breath seemed to hitch. "Don't try and argue for him, it won't work. Nothing good can come from Salazar's Scriptorium, he was a mad man obsessed with blood purity and the dark arts."

The silence lingered this time, but Ominis didn't mind. It gave him time to focus on that rattle in her chest, on the way her breaths were coming out shorter, quicker. A chill ghosted his spine and he shuddered, rolling his shoulders back. He didn't have time to focus on it, to ponder the reasoning of the goosebumps breaking across his skin.

He frowned, lifting a hand to graze his knuckles along her jawline to her forehead. Resting his hand there for a moment, only to let it gently drag back down. She wasn't fevered, and she didn't feel flush. That didn't explain the gnawing in his stomach that said something was about to happen. He didn't like it. Didn't like not knowing, not being prepared for whatever was to come.

"Blood purity?"

Ominis heart stopped at the innocence in that tone, at the curiosity. She didn't know. His brain short circuited, forgetting whatever he was thinking about as her question reverberated through his skull. Oh sweet bloody Merlin, she didn't know. She wasn't lying, was not pretending innocence. There was no hidden smile in her voice, no silent glee that had her bouncing on the balls of her feet. Celia was still, standing in place with her hands dangling at her sides and tangling in her skirt as she cleared her throat. Oh, Godric's heart. Why did it have to be him?

"Some in the wizarding world believe that magic should stay within all magic families." Ominis swallowed thickly, his hand gently trailing down from her face to her neck to feel her pulse beat against his palm.

Celia didn't respond. She didn't move, he wasn't sure she was even breathing. His chest tightened; beneath his hold she was stock stiff. Muscles tense, coiled far too tight. She was a band about to snap, and he frowned at the rattling that grew louder and shakier in her chest with every passing second in silence.

"Celia?" This time it was Sebastian to break the silence, his steps hurried as he crossed the corridor. "Celia? Ominis, what-"

"That's what a mudblood is, someone born to muggles. Someone who isn't born to a wizarding family." She inhaled, only to cough for a moment. Clearing her throat another time, her next words were spoken just above a whisper. "Someone like me."

"Celia, no. That's not-"

Celia didn’t let Ominis finish. Warm, clammy hands grazing featherlight along his wrist. Slowly, she pulled his hand off of her as she stepped back. His frown deepened. If it wasn’t for his keen hearing, he doubts he’d have known she moved at all. In a quick, fluid motion - Ominis had her wrist in his grasp. Tugging her forward once more until her hand was catching on his chest, her fingers splaying out along his school shirt. His heart fluttered beneath her palm, that ancient smell becoming powerful to the point of overwhelming and Celia cleared her throat again.

"Guess no matter the world I stand in, I'm still dirty blood." She huffed a short, bitter laugh that sent a pang through his chest at the low, hollow notes of her voice. "Good to know now what that Ravenclaw boy was spewing."

Ominis froze, his own muscles tensing beyond belief as her words rang like a church bell in his ears. Ravenclaw boy... Duncan Hobhouse. Puffskien Duncien. Ice burned through his veins as anger burned a fire in his chest. Spewing his pureblooded bullshit, was he? Ominis took a deep breath, maybe he should go have a talk with him. Maybe this time he'll let Sebastian stand as look out while he beats it into his thick fucking skull that there's no such thing as pure or dirty blood. Blood is blood, it's all red. All pumping through someone's veins. Though if he hears Duncan called Celia what he thinks he might have... there might be one less person with more blood on the inside then the outside in this world.

"Who." Sebastian growled, and Ominis snapped his head in his direction. He'd been so silent, he forgot he was there. "What Ravenclaw, Celia? What year? Better yet, did he call you anything?"

"Sebastian, no." Celia said, gone were the sweet warming lilts of her voice. Replaced with the lukewarm sentiments of someone who has accepted something. Like hell would Ominis allow that line of thinking. "Relaxed, we were here for a reason, remember? Aside from a lesson in wizarding terms, which if one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to share with me later?"

Silence, nothing but the sound of Sebastian's tapping foot. Ominis let his lips tug into a smirk at the sound of fabric shifting, tugging. He didn't need sight when he knew the familiar sound of a tie being loosen. When he loosened a tie, it typically meant there was a fight coming. One of magical or muggle means, and it usually ended with Ominis springing him from detention with a few words to Black.

"Fuck it, show me him. Now."

She squeaked, her hand fisting in Ominis' search as she jerked back. Ominis didn’t have time to think, instinct flaring as he shifted his grip on wrist to her forearm. He tugged her back, his other arm flying out to swing around her waist. Pulling her closer than she had been before as she braced herself with her hands on his chest. Merlin, if that wasn't a mistake.

He swallowed, his name squealed into his shirt had his cheeks burning. His arms had locked around her back, not allowing any -if at all, struggle. She wiggled against him, shifting about in his hold as her face buried against his chest. Her warm breath dancing along his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine. Like this, he could feel everything.

There wasn’t a part of them that was not pressed together. He could feel the curve of her hip beneath his hand, the warmth of her thin shoulders through her button-up. Feel the soft curves of her breasts firmly against him. This was a very big mistake, he breathed deep and fuck. That was not smart. Not smart at all. He could feel the blood rushing south, and it took every inch of his control to will his body to obey.

It didn't take much effort, when she cleared her throat for the billionth time. Then again. And again. And again, until she couldn't stop, and it turned into coughing. Raspy coughs that sounded like they were scratching and clawing on the way up her chest. Her grip tightened in his shirt, her thin shoulders shaking -correction. Her entire body was shaking with the force of her hacking. Ominis gingerly ran his fingers along her spine, patting her back between her shoulder blades as she heaved for breath.

"Can you please stop dying?"

At Sebastian's whine, Ominis felt one of her hands shifting. Felt one of her long fingers lifted and felt the others curl as she shot Sebastian, a rather crude muggle gesture against his chest. He snorted at the indignant sound that came from his fellow Slytherin's throat, at least now he knew she was at least somewhat okay.

"I'm not so sure you could keep up with me, Celia, I think Ominis might be more your pace."

Ominis scowled, fire dancing along his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He scowled, shooting him the same crude gesture against Celia's back. Sebastian's boisterous laugh filled the hall as Celia jerked away. His hands flexed, and it took everything Ominis had to loosen his grip. To let her slip through his fingers when he wanted nothing more than to pull her closer. To have her back in his arms and protected from the world that seemed to be needlessly cruel against her.

She cleared her throat, the sound bringing clarity to his muddled mind. He wouldn't be sleeping well that night, not with the memory of her warm breath dancing along his skin. Of her heart beating strong, albeit too quickly for his liking in time with that little odd rattle inside her chest.

"Back to the matter at hand," Celia cleared her throat. "Ominis, I understand your worries, your fears. But wouldn't it be better to be able to put that question to rest? To learn the truth on what happened to your Aunt Noctua? I apologize that Sebastian shared with me rather personal things about you without you knowing, but if I were you? I'd like to be able to say for certain what happened to my aunt. To know what happened to the woman I loved so much."

That is not what Ominis wanted her to say, and he hated the way his forever burning curiosity seemed to ignite and rise to the surface like smoke from a fire. He had long since accepted he would never know what happened, long accepted that something awful must have happened to his beloved aunt. Fought with himself on the wandering thoughts that conjured what if's to mind that he didn't want to think about. But was it truly better not knowing? Not knowing whether she died in pain, or in peace? If there was even a chance for her to have survived but been trapped inside his school? How many times had he laid awake at night wondering that...

No. He wouldn't bend. He won't give in. Taking a deep breath to tell her how much he appreciated the effort, the thoughts, that he wouldn't be budging on this. Nothing good would come from Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium, he was more than sure of it. Only to pause at the gentle wafting of lilac. Of lilac and gooseberries dancing with pine just beneath the curtain of the old books smell that grew stronger with every rattle of her chest, with every clearing of her throat.

Ominis swallowed, his stomach twisting itself further and tighter into knots as that feeling returned. If it ever left. Something wasn't right, something was off and he couldn't put his finger on it. Yet again, he was reminded of her stillness. Of the way she didn't dance about in place, there was an absence of fabric shifting, of tapping shoes as she bounced on the balls of her feet. No bapping of her braid lightly tapping against her back, no twisting of her skirts in her fingers. His chest tightened, the ominous weight settling on his shoulders. Soft, cold fingers grazed the inside of his wrist. Featherlight as they dragged along the back of his knuckles and down his dangling fingertips.

"Please Ominis."

Fuck.

He sighed, he could hear her smile growing. He needed to find a way to ban her from saying those words in that order. Forever. Or until he gets her into his bed, whichever came first really. No, he scolded himself. Bad Ominis. Merlin, he really wouldn't be sleeping tonight if she kept saying things like that. If she kept using that... low, softened plea. How could he ever resist it?

"I... okay." He sighed, lips twitching at the corner of the sound of Sebastian stumbling from where he no doubt fell off the wall he'd been leaning on in surprise. "For Auntie Noctua; I'll do it."

"What? Just like that? You didn’t want to even think about it when I was asking.” Sebastian’s tone was accusatory, Ominis huffs. Arms crossing, he doesn’t want to dignify that remark with a response. “You hadn’t said what I wanted to hear.”

“Or, perhaps if I was over a foot shorter, smelling of flowers, and batting a set of big blue eyes at you.”

Ominis scowled, "Do you want me to change my mind, Sebastian?"

He glared in the direction of Sebastian's snickers, wanting nothing more to take back his word. To not give his friend the satisfaction of any sort of dark magic secrets that would be hiding inside Salazar's hidden study. It would be easy, a very snarky comment to Sebastian and Ominis could be turning on his heel. Wand in hand as he left his friend to sulk outside the Slytherin Common Room. So why didn't he do it already? If he was going to be mocked-

"Shut up, Sebastian." Celia's voice was like honey, faux sweet and luring the innocent fly to the trap. He could almost picture the incredulous look upon his face as the sweetest girl in school told him to be quiet. "Is there anything you can tell us about the entrance, Ominis?"

If she would forever speak to him like that, like warm butter melting on toast. He would do anything she'd ask. He shoved those thoughts aside, knowing exactly what fantasies would be playing tonight inside his head as he adjusted his tie around his neck. She cleared her throat, the rattle getting louder, clearer inside his ears. Maybe he should try and buy them some time, try and convince Sebastian to take her to the Hospital Wing, or maybe get Sebastian back onto a war path. He did loosen his tie already; every student and teacher knows what it means when a Sallow walks about with their tie loose. Anne was just as notorious as Sebastian was for it.

Even as Ominis wondered, he knew the answer for it. He had given his word, and she had sparked the wonder, the morbid curiosity about what happened to his Aunt. He knew she was dead, there's no way around it. Yet, he wonders how. Why. All sorts of questions that buzz through his mind that he doesn't even notice when Celia goes about solving the puzzle. Doesn't hear her ordering Sebastian about, until he hears the sound of stones shifting. Until he hears voices so hushed and hissing. The same words, the same phrases over and over in his ears.

Speak to me.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, goosebumps racing along his skin. His grip on his wand turns white-knuckled, his blood roaring to life just loud enough to drown out those haunting whispers. Snakes. Why did it always have to be snakes? Oh right, because his ancestor was a crazed, tacky fuck with a boner for reptiles. Why wouldn't chasing after the long-lost study of his wacky ancient grandfather involve talking to snakes?

Soft fingertips gently danced along the skin of his wrist, chasing away the goosebumps with a warm touch so gentle he shuddered. Celia hummed a quiet tune. A question in the simplest form, no words, just sound. Just thought and intent swirled together into a singular note that raised and lowered as needed. It was grounding. When her fingers got to his knuckles, he turned his hand around. Capturing hers in a vice-like grip he'd apologize for later. She didn't make a peep, didn't whimper, nor whine when he squeezed. Only squeezed back with those same soft notes that gave him the strength he needed to mutter something in parseltongue, she shuddered where she stood next to him. The flickering spice of a candle washed away as quickly as it raised when the door opened and a cloud of dust rolled out.

They have found the Scriptorium.

The pit in his stomach deepened, stifling air near suffocating. The feeling in his gut deepened once more as he stepped into the passage, his heart hammering in his chest. The door sealed shut behind him, the sound impossibly loud in his ears as Sebastian cursed. Deep breaths, he reminded himself, nose wrinkling as he inhaled dust. His grip tightened on his wand, Celia's hum cutting through Sebastian's rhetorical questions. The smooth slide of shifting metal had his ears perked, almost reminding him of a snake when they coiled to-

Fear gripped his heart in a tight grip, his arm shot forward. Coiling around her waist and tugging her away from what he's sure is a trap. A trick. Sharp, metal fangs dragged down his forearm and Ominis had never been more thankful to be wearing layers. She squeaked, but that only made him hold her tighter. He breathed, she was fine. She's safe. The thing didn't get her.

"What in Merlin's name was that?!" Sebastian exclaimed, at the same time Ominis demanded: "What in Merlin's beard were you thinking!?"

"It's a puzzle! I'm sure of it!" She bounced in his hold, trying to get back to the enchanted lock that had tried to attack her moments ago.

"Are you insane?! It just tried to attack you not moments ago!" Ominis snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand and taking a deep breath. "This was a mistake, we never should've come here."

Celia twisted in his hold, her tiny fists lightly tapping against the limb snug around her waist, against his chest. She cleared her throat, turning to try and pry his fingers off her side one by one. He wouldn't be budging, not on this. Not when she seemed fixated and focused on solving some magical puzzle that would apparently bite should she fail. She huffed, this close he heard the rattle grow, heard her cough turn into a swallow as she cleared her throat. The rattle got stronger and with it, the scent of old books sharpened and grew overwhelming once more.

"Celia-"

"Ominis!" She whined, dragging the letters in his name out as she flopped over his arm. Attempting to crawl out of his hold. He snorted, good luck with that. "Please! Let me just-"

"Celia." He cut off, flexing his arm till she was standing upright once more.

A flicker of spice danced in his nose, and he grazed his other hand up her back. She shivered, the spicy smell starting to weigh in against the parchment and ink scent. His hand followed the length of her spine, to the nape of her neck where he dragged his touch along her throat to angle her chin upwards. To face him.

"Are you hurt?"

“N-no?”

Ominis didn't need his wand to find his way around. He's never actually needed it to find his way around. It is his preferred method to get around places. His senses have been dialed up higher than that of anyone's, his ability to hear, to smell, taste, feel, making up for the sense he had been born without. While having his wand was tremendously helpful, it wasn't how he first learned how to move about the world. He could feel the vibrations in the ground, the walls. Could hear them when someone spoke, the little vibrations that danced in someone's throat, their chest, their belly. He could see ripples in the world, allowing them to give him a silhouette of someone's figure with every vibration that partook their forms.

It's how he had been able to tell when Anne or Sebastian were sneaking up on him, whether his mother was in a good mood. Whether Marvolo was ansty to hurt someone, something. When his father wasn't happy. He could hear it in the quiet hum of their chest with every breath they took, and hear it in the way they stepped.

"Ominis," She whined again, and Merlin, he needed her to stop doing that. "Please?"

He didn't need eyes, didn't need a wand to see the world when seeing it in the way it breathed about him, was beautiful enough. However, his senses were never... this clear before. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, hearing Celia clear her throat as he finally let her slip free of his arms with Sebastian standing to the side to snatch her back if the snake tried to bite again. Because of course the entire passage would be snake related, this was the way to Salazar Slytherin's study after all.

He couldn't not hear the way that rattle in her chest danced throughout her body. The way something vibrated inside her from shoulder to shoulder, from foot to foot, from the tip of her head and to the bottom of her toes. A continuous pulse of something inside her that made her figure clearer than the others. All through the vibrations she was projecting into the floor as her barely-there steps tapped against stone, through the wave of light that pushed and pulled like the Black Lake and her body the shore.

He didn't need his wand to travel the world, though it gave him more of an accurate view of the world. More precise, more accurate for walls. For stairs, and paths that were difficult. It helped him find walls before his skin did, helped him find a path clear of trees before the wind did. Everything was made easier with the use of magic, but Ominis preferred the way he could feel when someone was approaching, the body heat tied to emotions, the way they walked, their very breaths. All very telling ways to give him clues someone or something was approaching, the intent made ever clearer the closer they got.

He heard the clicking, the spinning of stone and metal as the door in front of them opened. He shoved thoughts of this peculiar addition away, focusing instead on how the hair of his arms hadn't stopped standing on end once. How the goosebumps on his skin started to hurt. How cold his hand felt since Celia pulled hers from his when she had caught sight of the snake, the hum of her interest a broken record inside his head as his mind played a dangerous game of what if. What if the snake had gotten her? What would it have done? With this area being tied to Salazar, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if it had made her suffer from some archaic form of dark magic. What if that rattle in her chest is a disease, an illness? What if she is sick and he should've held firm a few more moments? What if he didn't agree to this, what if he had confronted it? What if-

The door slammed shut behind them. The familiar squeak turned into a very short cough. The rattle was growing incessant and he could hear the whispers of the snakes once more, his blood turning to ice as Sebastian and Celia stiffened. He heard Sebastian swallow, and he heard the whispers.

The key to the way forward is the one spell Ominis promised himself to never cast again. Crucio. That's why and how his aunt died, she had gone in alone, and had no one to cast it on, or to cast it on her. He knew this was a mistake! They never should have come here! Never! This will be another notch on his belt of regrets.

"Ominis-?"

"I won't cast it." He said firmly, head shaking as he paced by the door that sealed them in.

She jumped at his tone, and he made a note to apologize for startling her later. His blood was roaring too loudly in his ears, a migraine was forming behind his eyes and his temples pounded. His grip clenched and unclenched on his wand, his other hand fisting at his side.

"You don't understand, Celia, the pain -it's unimaginable, you would do anything for it to stop. My family used it on me, when I refused to cast it on muggles. Used it until I cast it on a muggle... don't ask me this."

Her touch was like ice on his heated skin, her fingers sliding along his wrist. Only to stop halfway down, to go up instead. His elbow was lifted, her touch like a balm on his wounds as she hummed. It wasn't like the higher note of intrigue, the soothing low of assurance. This was a middle, as high as low, and as calm as her natural speaking voice.

"Ominis, you're bleeding." She spoke of it as an observation, as if discussing the weather. Her hands shook on his arm, her fingers clumsy as she wiped at his arm with something soft until pain like fire danced up his arm and he hissed. "The snake got you instead of me... oh Ominis, I'm so sorry."

He didn't have time to speak, to say a word as the pain came to the forefront of his mind. Maybe that was why he wasn't feeling so... confident. She dabbed at the wound, apologizing for every hiss of air he released through his teeth. She fiddled about, pressing something cold and smooth into his free hand with a quick command to drink. He didn't argue, obeying without a second thought and tipping it back to let the liquid slosh down his throat. He grimaced, wiggenweld never tasted the greatest. She hummed, pleased as the skin healed itself and stepped back.

"I- I won't ask you to ever curse someone Ominis. I am sorry, for your pain and for your Aunt."

She turned, gone from his side and back across the room in an instant. The feather-light steps turning firm. With the pings of sound dancing across her figure and across the floor of the hall they were trapped in as she squared herself opposite Sebastian. His hopeful tone trailing off at the look upon her face, if Ominis were to guess. Celia's next words were too fast and hushed for him to catch, a tone their friend didn't hesitate to match. They debated for a moment, words Ominis didn't care to try and hear. Not when he could feel the furious heat coming off her in waves, not when he heard the same scathingly biting tone she used on him that night outside the Undercroft now directed at Sebastian as she tore him a new one for even suggesting Ominis cast the spell.

Celia cleared her throat, huffing haughtily. "You know how to cast it, don't you Sebastian."

It had not been a question, even if worded like one. The growing tension threatened to snap at the tiniest of moves, the silence a sharp piercing ring that Ominis wished would deafen him to the next words he feared would come from her lips, or from Sebastian's. He swallowed, the pit in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole. He really didn't like where this was going…

"Then cast it on me and be done with it." She hissed.

"I don't think you understand what you're asking me to do." Sebastian snarked, running a hand through his curls. "I'll teach you the spell, then you can cast it on me. I can take the pa-"

"Listen," She said sharply, coughing. "I don't have the spell casting experience nor the want to learn spells like this, just cast it on me and be done with it. I can take pain, Sebastian."

Sebastian huffed, whatever comment he was going to say died on his tongue when Celia placed a gentle hand on his forearm. She squeezed it, not to hurt. Waiting until dark eyes met hers, and she smiled. Throwing her arms around his middle, she hugged him tightly. Waiting until his own begrudgingly fell around her to hug her close. Her eyes stung, the wonder of if this was what it was like to have a brother making water form in her eyes. She cleared her throat, shoving the thoughts away and blinking back the tears that formed. She's not cried in years, she won't start now.

"For Anne," She said.

Sebastian sighed, voice defeated. "For Anne."

Ominis knew the moment she said those two little words, Sebastian was snapped back into the reason for why they were here. His logic, his reasoning, everything that hadn't been committed to helping his sister fell out one of his ears as her words rammed through the other. Ominis braced himself for what he was about to hear, wishing he could cover his ears and pretend this was all a dream. Sebastian swallowed thickly, a low spoken apology on his tongue that Celia brushed off like dust on her shoulder. If the room had been tense before, it was suffocating now. Quiet except for the deep breaths Sebastian heaved, quiet except for the now borderline incessant rattle shaking in her chest. She swallowed, and he heard it grow worse.

"Crucio!"

For a moment, everything was still, entirely too quiet as the magic danced over her skin like red lightning. Celia blinked, meeting Sebastian's eyes for a moment before she felt it. The tingle, the itch, the final inkling that something was coming. Only for everything to blend together in a mesh of light and darkness, colors becoming a gray tinted red as pain like never before broke through the dam.

She wouldn't scream, not with Ominis standing but feet away. He made it clear those screams were unforgettable and she refused to add her own to that list. The world fell away beneath her feet, the solid stone flooring coming far too close to her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. Teeth digging into her lip as copper coated her tongue.

She couldn't scream now, not even if she wanted to. Her mind racing as her heart pounded in her chest to get out, her fingers clawed at her shirt, at her tie. She needed to get it out, out, out, out- No! Hands gripped hers in a vice grip, pinning tem flat to her chest as arms curled about her waist and she was moving and Good God, Merlin, please stop it-!

It's not real! The pain is fake, an illusion conceived by her own mind! Her logic failed, falling on her own deaf ears as the pain continued to get stronger on her skin. Feeling entirely too much like when she used the ancient magic she was blessed with. Her skin too tight, her body too small for her insides. Her veins and blood vessels were the wrong size, the wrong shape and she needed to get it out of her! Get it out of her chest before it makes her burst!

But Celia couldn't move her arms, couldn't do more than clench her fists until her nails were digging into her palms until one of her hands was snatched and- No! Please! Don't make her move, don't make her move. Moving was bad, bad, bad. She couldn't move, couldn't scream, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt. Not when she could see his hand raising, see specs of blood stain the wine colored shirt worn for lessons. At least she knew now why white was a forbidden color in her wardrobe.

Every breath burned, every blink stinging and Maker, how she wished to scream. To beg for it to stop, to end. But begging did nothing but show weakness. And no Croft is allowed to show a weakness...

The world had long since grown dim, the figures around her turning blurry and hazy into one as she braced herself for the pain that would always be followed if she showed even a minute reaction. She already knows she failed the first test by flinching, by curling into herself. Her limbs were weighted, getting heavier and heavier by the second and Celia thanked her lucky stars that the sweet abyss of nothing was coming for her like a weighted blanket. Even if the dark whispers in her ears were barely heard over the piercing ring of silence, even if she couldn't keep her eyes open to see the cruel, dark smile shining in the night...

"Celia!?"

She doesn’t know who called her name, doesn’t have the strength to find out. Not when she knew she'd wake up, back in that shack. Alone, shivering and covered in her own blood with the expectation to care for her own wounds and return home before breakfast. She just... needed... needed to... rest... rest her eyes... for a... for a second....

@helendeath

#ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt x reader #swearing #hufflepuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #slytherin #salazar slytherin #hinted child abuse #implied abuse #child abuse #dark magic #of nifflers and magic

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cassiaratheslytherpuff · 3 months

Note

Please tell me more about Rarrydraft w prongsfoot!! Two sets of best friends - that can only be good ❤️

Thanks for asking! 🩷 I had completely forgotten I even started this. It's about Harry pining for Ron and finding Sirius's diary when cleaning up Grimmauld Place for Ron to move in with him.

I'll share a couple of snippets, maybe it'll motivate me to finish one of these days.

“I’m a patient guy,” Ron said. “I mean, you’d call me patient, right? When Hermione left right after the war to get her parents from Australia I waited patiently, didn’t I? In fact, I wanted to join her! Hermione, I said, we’re partners now, you don’t need to do this on your own. But no, she HAD to go off on her own.” Harry grabbed the nicest of his two bottles of Firewhiskey and climbed onto the counter to get the magickly charmed whiskey glasses from the back of the cabinet. At some point he’d owned six Charm-Chilled glasses, but after summoning them one time too many he only had too left – something about the pure rage in Ron’s voice made him decide this wasn’t the time to risk them. “And then after she finally finished at Hogwarts,” Ron continued when Harry focussed back on his voice, “I thought, this is it – now we start our lives together for real. But of course, then she decided she had to get that bachelor’s degree. And I offered to upend everything and come to Glasgow with her, because the only thing I really wanted was to bloody be with her.” Harry poured the Firewhiskey and handed Ron his glass, but he was too busy talking to take a single sip. “But it was all noo Ron,” Ron twisted his face and voice into a mocking imitation of his girlfriend, ”you’ve got to stay here. Your family needs you, Fred needs you at the shop. Harry needs you.” Harry winced at that, the idea that Ron might have stayed behind for him. “Of course,” Ron said, “now I find out the real reason.” In a single breath Ron seemed to deflate in front of Harry’s eyes, his shoulders sagging and his eyes turning worn and sad instead of fiery. Harry grabbed him by the elbow and directed him to the living room, carrying the bottle of Firewhiskey and his glass in his free hand. He sat Ron down on the sofa, and this time he went willingly, staring morosely into his glass before draining it in a single swallow and holding out for Harry to refill it. “What’s happened?” Harry asked again, thinking this time he might get an answer. “She’s going back to Glasgow for her masters degree,” Ron said. “I thought when she got back this summer that we could finally start our lives together, but after just seven months of living with me she’s off again.” “Why don’t you go with her?” Harry asked, refusing to acknowledge how much the idea hurt. “That’s what I suggested,” Ron said. “I mean, everyone’s got their own thing now – nobody really needs me to stay anymore.” Harry thought briefly and wildly, I do, but bit down the urge to speak.

And the diary

Diary of Sirius Black. July 1st, 1979. So, James and I moved into our flat today, and I figured it was a good day to start using this bloody diary Remus got me. I know, I know, I’m a dude I should insist it’s a journal, but sometimes it’s just nice to call a wand a wand, you know? I figure Remus thought I should have someplace to put my thoughts, because although I’m almost sure he has no idea what’s rolling around inside my head he does know there’s a lot in here I don’t talk about. Speaking of, I should ward this book if I’m going to write down all the things I refuse to say out loud. If James ever read it… OK, I’ve warded it. So we’re safe. I can write anything here now, but honestly I’m not sure I want to. Maybe seeing it in black and white will be too real? How about I tell you another secret? My childhood was… pretty terrible. They never did anything physical, but I’m starting to believe James when he says that doesn’t make it ok. It was alright, I suppose, until I sorted Gryffindor. At some level they must have known it was going to happen, but I still managed to make them ‘shocked and appalled’ as they said. I stuck with it for another five summers before I ran off and moved in with James’ family. That’s not the secret. The secret isn’t that living with James’ family felt more like a home than Grimmauld ever had either, though it did. It was brilliant, his mum kept hugging me and even though it took me ages to just relax and enjoy it she never gave up. They’re brilliant. Or they were brilliant, fuck I still can’t believe they’re gone… Anyway, I was talking about my secret. The real reason I finally couldn’t stay with my own parents anymore. The thing is, they found out, and I don’t think either of us could survive being in the same house after that. They couldn’t stand me, and I couldn’t stand being so thoroughly hated for every part of me. Maybe Mr and Mrs Potter wouldn’t have minded if they knew, but I was never willing to risk it. I suppose it’s the same with James. He might be fine with it, it might not change a thing except make us closer – but there’s always the chance it’ll ruin everything. The thing is, I’m queer. Shocker, right? Not really, I know. Feels obvious to me, but I think the only one who’s ever come close to suspecting it is Remus.

#rarry #ronarry #prongsfoot #snippet #ask #cw: alcohol #cw: child abuse #at least it's hinted at?#fanfiction #cassiwrites

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be-side-my-self · 1 year

Text

@durorholmes

Travis just keeping back and staying quiet like the obedient dog

Very true. Because...

They trained him well…

Which is why it's so much more impressive that he does not shoot Laura when they tell him to do so:

And it hurts him to do that:

Well trained indeed... and still he does not shoot her. (It also suggests that he has silver bullets in his pistol?)

We all know why most fanfictions with Travis as an important part are tagged with "former child abuse".

Anyway here is the reaction of Travis if you shoot Constance:

One thing I constantly think about is the fact that Travis has to know that Laura is infected because the last time he saw her she was missing an eye...

And they meet again and Laura has two:

I would have loved to see any real reaction about that from Travis but I guess that is just another thing the developers didn't get around to add.

Because the inner monologue had to be something like "Why the fuck is Laura here? Oh shit, she is bitten and she is in our house and she is the one who killed Kaylee and mom knows but they don't know she has been bitten and when will she change? What the fuck am I going to do? Oh shit..."

That would explain why Travis did not react any more than he did when Laura gets shot, because he knows she might get up again?

#The Quarry #Supermassive Games #Travis Hackett #The Quarry Meta #Constance Hackett #jedediah hackett #Screenshots #The Quarry Headcanon #TW: hints towards former child abuse #The Quarry Game #CW: child abuse #TW: child abuse #Travis was probably physically abused #As a child or teen or maybe even adult #It's why he reacts the way he does when Max acts like he is going to hit Travis #it's in his body language and watching Constance shouting at him hurts #and Lauras anger is so justified #Hackett house #Hackett Family

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xysidhequeen · 7 months

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I was in a car for 14 hours because, if anyone is unaware, I recently became aware of the fact that the man who was my father in everything but blood passed away in 2020. I am NC with that side of the family, and for my own physical and emotional safety, I had to cut everyone off. I couldn't chance reaching out and leaving a trail for my abusersers to follow. Not when I already had to change my number three times and move four times just to ensure they couldn't find me.

That didn't mean I couldn't visit his grave, though, and I did. It was. Hard. Seeing his grave made it real. Up until that point, I could tell myself it was a trick or it was the wrong man, until I saw that grave.

But, I spent 14 hours in a car, had to see the grave of someone I loved. Perhaps the only family member on that side I still loved at all. And now I'm once more stuck in insomnia. It's been, 30hours no sleep because my body can't handle stress in any capacity and is now throwing a full blown tantrum.

There's not much of a point to this post. I'm not aiming to garner sympathy or pity. I just needed to talk about it even if no one sees it. I don't like to talk about my issues to people close to me, I don't like to complain. Sometimes, it's easier to let these things out when I'm hiding behind a fake name and a fake face.

#tw: death #death #family death #loss of a loved one #tw: abuse #abuse #tw: child abuse #child abuse #its hinted at least #ill cover all my bases #im like three minutes from a full breakdown #im so tired #not just physically #im tired emotionally and mentally too #just #utterly drained #i really am not looking for pity or sympathy #this isnt even the first death in my life #but it was the most important one #he....was so much to me #honestly most of the time i think he was the only adult in my life that actually loved ME for who i was #he was my safe person i trusted him wo much even when i had been trained by my family's behavior to never trust anyone #he was so good and kind and genuine and wonderful #and ill never get the chance to speak to him again because hes gone #and ill have to live with the guilt of knowing I put that rift between us. im the reason i never got to say goodbye.#im the reason i didnt know he was dead. and i have to live with the guilt of knowing if i was given a second chance id do it all over again #because at the end of the day im always going to value my own mental and physical health over anything else. and thats not going to change #but fuck if i dont wish i couldve sent him a letter or an email or something. he died not even knowing if i was alive or suffering #he deserved so much more than what i left him with. and ill never get a chance to make it right now.

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jaymber · 11 months

Text

Vaea's Secret

You know about them, don't you? You don't wanna know, trust me.

(TW: Vaea's a child abuse survivor)

Kerry had noticed Vaea's scars from the first time he'd seen him naked. A merc incident, he had thought, picturing his lover failing to dodge mantis blades, a cheeky smile on his lips painted red with blood.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

"You know about them, don't you?"

He had asked Johnny one morning, both in bed as Vaea was dressing up, pointing to their input's back. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that made his best friend puff.

"Didn't have a choice given our… predicament," he shrugged, finding the half-emptied pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, "You don't wanna know. Trust me."

But it only got Kerry more curious, the unspoken question dancing on his lips each time his fingers traced the scars.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

"Why you gonna know?" Vaea had asked when Kerry finally broached the subject, his voice suddenly defensive.

"Just curious, that's all."

"Never told anyone."

"You told Johnny," he corrected harshly.

"Nah, I didn't. He just… He happened to see it."

"Wasn't pretty, huh?" Kerry tried to egg him on.

"It wasn't, no."

After a long, tensed pause, Kerry told him he was there whenever Vaea was ready. He knew that weight in the pit of his input's stomach and knew that telling his story would help alleviate it.

Whenever he was ready.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

That day came one early morning Kerry found Vaea outside, near the pool of their shared penthouse. Johnny at his side. They were watching the sunrise over the horizon. As he got closer, Kerry could tell Vaea hadn't slept. He vaguely remembered him waking up from a nightmare, but he was too sleepy to react.

He joined them, and after a while, Vaea finally spoke.

"You still wanna know what happened?" he asked Kerry without looking at him, and despite his cryptic way of speaking, Kerry nodded and Vaea continued, "Remember what I told you? Bout my parents?"

"They both left to get milk and never came home, right?"

"We all left to get milk but they came home alone, more like," he couldn't help but puffed, "We were moving, to a new farm, somewhere up North. We stopped at a gas station for the night, but when I woke up, they were gone."

"Yeah," Kerry nodded, his smile faltering, "Think I remember. All alone with a stranger, right?"

"The owner, yeah. I always leave the story there. Was with him, then with the Bakkers, but… truth is-"

Vaea stopped, looking for words as his eyes got blurry. Johnny scooped closer, the back of his head meeting with Vaea's. Kerry got the clue, and wrapped an arm around his input.

"I spent… three years, with him. Name was James, or John, or George. I dunno really. Could only call him sir."

"V," Kerry let out, his throat suddenly feeling dry. His hand gently stroked Vaea's back as he took a deep breath.

"Think it's the first word of English I learned," he continued, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I'm sorry, sir. He let me live at the station, but I had to do some work. And when I was bad…"

"When you were bad," Johnny scornfully repeated, "You hear yourself? Did nothing wrong, V. Eight year olds aren't meant to work sixteen hours a day. Was nothing more than a twisted sadistic fuck."

"And when he…" Vaea corrected with a shy thankful smile on his lips, "When he wanted to hurt me, he did. For three years. He did."

"He did that to you?" Kerry sheepishly asked, fingers running on his scars.

The image of a cheeky merc wounded during a gig had fated, replaced by a small child crying. Somehow, he pictured in own kids, and a wave of undiluted rage hit him.

"Him and his… friends, or clients or- or, I dunno," he muttered, sniffling loudly, words coming with more difficulty now, "They'd come and- and pay for… for… but if I- I… If I didn't… want... If…"

He stopped to swallow back heavy tears and shook his head.

"J'peux pas. J'peux pas."

I can't, Kerry understood with his built-in translator. He couldn't tell that part of the story.

Vaea's words had created a disturbing image in his mind. His light eyes darted at Johnny in alert. His best friend didn't look back at him, and discreetly nodded. Kerry had guessed right, and for once, he hated that he had.

" 's okay, V," he said, squeezing his ganic arm to pull him closer, "You don't have to."

Vaea nodded and mumbled a voiceless thank.

"How you feeling now?" Kerry asked when his tears had dried.

"Lighter," he admitted, "I feel lighter, yeah. Not better but… Thanks. And sorry I-"

"Stop that," Johnny chasisted, and Vaea complied, "Got nothing to apologize for, okay?"

"Hey, Vaea," Kerry called after a moment, the next words burning the tip of his tongue for some time now, "I love you, alright? I love you."

For once, Vaea didn't reply. He simply nodded. Kerry now could feel the weight of the scars under his fingertips.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #kerry eurodyne #male!v #oc: vaea temarii #i've hinted at it before but here the story folks #child abuse tw

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drengar · 3 months

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Noticing / Being Noticed Meme | Accepting@mayhemmybeloved asked: "Those scars....Hawks." Shiggy from @mayhemmybeloved

He let out a questioning chirp as he looked over at the other. He had heard the other approaching but didn’t see any reason to stop what he was doing or cover up his torso. The wound he had gotten from doing a side op for the Commission needed to be taken care of anyway. Keigo really didn’t wish to bloody anymore of his clothes.

“You’re going need to be a little more specific, boss,” he chuckled as he finished cleaning the cut along his ribs. “I got quite a few of them.” He made sure his tone was light and teasing. Yet another mask to cover up how he didn’t exactly wish to talk about some of the scars. Not when his back was covered with them. They all ranged from small almost paper thin marks to deep gashes, one in particular going down his side to across his back and vanishing down into the hem of his pants. Keigo easily how he got them all and that was really his wish not talk about some of them. Some he carried ever since he was a kid living with his parents. Others from his training with the Commission. All of them having some sort of emotional tie.

Getting a new alcohol wipe from the first aid kit he had opened, he shrugged at Tomura as he said, “Unless you’re just making an observation.”

#mayhemmybeloved #newspaper clippings「 ooc: asks 」#m: keigo / hawks #v: main「 keigo 」#p: tomura shigaraki #tw: child abuse #[we'll just throw that tag on this just in case...]#[since there is hints of it]#[also i'm going to go cry over the headcanon i came up with for this]

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sotogalmo · 5 months

Text

8:05

Just thinking of CC and how FNAF4 is.

It's all psychological. Dreams, nightmares, Fredbear Plush talking.

Everything, almost everything about CC and FNAF4 is just how psychological kinda is with a child who has been psychological/emotionally abused by his brother, neglected by family, and hated/teased by everyone.

His, basically, only friend was his plushy: Fredbear. The one his father gave to him. His Father is his only friend.

But not at the same time. Father has caused his same damage as well. It's the same as Michael's, but not too much. So CC holds Father to a much better light then he does with Michael. Because at the very least Father apologizes to him, and gives him gifts. He did give him Fredbear, his most prized plushy.

God, if he were to ever be alive after the Bite of '83, he would most definitely have PTSD. No doubt about it. Even if the Bite of '83 never happened too. He would most definitely have to be in therapy for soso long. Until he gets at the very least normal

And honestly just to make it worse honestly. It's the 90s-80s. No one would ever want to see a grown man cry. It just doesn't suit them. 90s-80s and even now, is still very used to the fact that men don't cry. And when they suddenly do, they are treated like women in some cases.

I just know that CC was compared to a girl so much, that he started to believe he was a girl and all. And if he were to say that, people would call him weird. Worse then crybaby, or weird.

God, CC is not a mentally stable child. Not at all. I don't think it's so far-fetched to even say he's suicidal. Because if I were to ever be in his place, best believe that I definitely would be suicidal. He was psychological/emotionally abused by his brother, neglected by family, and hated/teased by everyone. Why wouldn't anyone be suicidal, from that? Hell, would anyone even be stable? I sure as well don't think anyone would be stable

CC is such a tragic character, and I think we need to explore that so much more

#time diary(?)#audrey/kellie's time diary #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #tw abuse mention #tw abuse #i am not demonizing micheal. afton family is a fucked up one. every implication can be true. almost every theory can be true #every hint to what happens to the afton family can be true #and to me. fnaf is silly but it works so well with tormenting people. its more psychological horror then anything. but also fridge horror #but yes. fnaf is a psychological horror story to me #and honestly. i kinda like how some of the characters are written. in some ways. they are all so human. so human its disgusting #fnaf 4 #crying child fnaf #fnaf crying child #crying child afton #evan afton #chris afton #i have adopted some stuff from lets-ignore-that's FNAF AU. i just like how their au is .... its soso cool #and then just thought so much how 90s-80s were with standards. and boom. you have some suicidal child who is #scared to die yes. but wants to die and it would make the world a better place. yet he wants to live his life. etc etc yk??#tw suicidality #cc my son ..... be deserves soso much #resson why I'm talking bout him now is cuz im making a fic for him. and god he makes me crazy

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kittyphoenix12-xx · 2 years

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i’ve figured it out btw

billy antis don’t know how to think for themselves. the duffer brother call billy their ‘human villain’ and he is the only one to be called so, not brenner not henry, billy.

and it’s actually stupid that billy is their villain. brenner is a manipulative, child abuser (yes he is, to all those people who seem to think he was a good papa) and henry/vecna murdered a bunch of children. but sure, billy’s implied racism and violent tendencies mean he can’t be redeemed.

and the other reason is that brenner/henry are connected to the upside down/scifi aspect immediately, meaning people are viewing them in a scifi/fantasy context (like a lot people point out, the same context that cause people to forgive anakin/loki) but billy isn’t - he’s the human antagonist

and that’s all they’ll ever see

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quillscales · 6 months

Text

Lambert wouldn't admit to being afraid. Never. It wasn't just pride either, he's seen what happens to whelps who cry at night. If the other whelps don't nip it, then the teachers would. A Witcher can't be afraid of the dark or what's lurking in it, and they make sure to beat that fear out of them. Or at least everyone learns to hide it better.

Voltehre still got scared. Lambert wouldn't admit that he did, too. As long as everyone was asleep and they were in their own beds by dawn, then there wasn't an issue with Voltehre climbing into his bed whenever there was a crack of thunder or a howl in the distance.

Eventually, they would have to stop clinging to each other; the path was meant to be walked alone, or at least that's what they were told. Yet, with Voltehre wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat so close, Lambert wondered if maybe they could break that rule, too.

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topazshadowwolf · 2 years

Text

Here's part 4 of instant babybones bad sanses!

Going to slap a warning on this series at this time: If you couldn't tell by now, Dust had a "Badster," and there will be "bad times" ahead as Nightmare learns all he went through. Really, only Killer had great Dadster. The two other kids have angst, too, regarding their Dadsters. So, as cute as this is... there is also going to be heavy emotional angst at times dealing with children and past traumas.

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4(you are here)

---

"will my dad be fine?" Killer asked, and Nightmare nodded. It was not true in the end. All their fathers weren't around anymore. Nightmare knew nothing of most of their fathers except Cross'. But that's what happens when you're so notorious that the entire multiverse plots against you.

"I am sure he will as well," Nightmare reassured Killer, then frowned as he watched Killer go back to shoving food in his mouth. Not that he had the best table manners as an adult, but this was horrid. "Slow down…"

Speaking of table manners, or the lack of is more accurate, he then noticed Dust reaching with his hands to pick up the mac and cheese. "Dust, please use your fork or spoon," He kindly corrected before looking at the other two, who, per usual, were far better behaved.

Now, they needed something to drink. Nightmare decided to start with Cross since he had already been upset. Perhaps his favorite drink will help calm him. Even if Nightmare knew what that was, he still decided to ask, "What would you like to drink?"

"Can I have chocolate milk?" Cross asked through his hitching breaths.

"You may," Night replied, and Killer stood up in his chair.

"oh, oh! me too," Killer replied and then paused, "please."

Nightmare was surprised that Killer remembered to say the 'magic word.' Such behavior is to be encouraged. "Since you said please, yes. Horror?" Night asked as he got out the milk and chocolate mix.

"that's me?" Horror asked, and Night nodded. "just plain milk, please."

"Alright, I can get that for you. How is your head feeling?" Night asked, looking up.

"better, thank you." Horror smiled, looking far better than he did previously.

Nightmare poured milk into one of the glasses as he prepared the drinks. Now, there was one more to ask. "Dust, what would you like?" He then turned his head to see Dust looking at the others as he tentatively picked up his fork as if he had never handled one before.

… In fact, he seemed entirely baffled by the item but was trying his best to mimic the others. It reminded Nightmare of the first time he saw utensils and the awkwardness of figuring out how to operate such a simple tool. There was frustration building up in Dust. He needed to be distracted from the task and given a moment to think of something else.

"Dust…," He repeated calmly, and the child finally looked at him.

"sorry," Dust replied, trying his best to mask the quiver in his voice.

"It is alright, but what would you like to drink?" Nightmare asked, and Dust started to tear up. What was meant to be a distraction became a whole new ordeal. He could feel so much confusion and frustration beginning to pour off the small skeleton.

"water?" Dust asked, but he sounded terrified, as if his request might somehow be the wrong answer.

"Alright," Nightmare replied, not wanting to question his choice or why he was reacting that way. Not here… in front of the others.

He was starting to dread interviewing Dust.

He brought over the drinks and set them down. Killer tried speaking but had so much food in his mouth that the words were impossible to figure out. "Do not speak with your mouth full."

He pulled out the last chair to sit in and noticed Dust was eating too fast. "Dust," he said firmly, and the child looked at him with fear in his eyelights and pouring off of him. This was all too familiar to how he originally was after being brought to the castle.

Anger filled the dark skeleton for whoever put that need for such fear there. Knowing first hand some of the horrible things terrible people will inflict on children. He spoke softly but kept firm in tone as he meant the best for Dust. "Slow down your eating. Give your magic time to break it down. You will enjoy it better that way."

"i'm sorry, it… is just so good." Dust replied quietly and did as instructed.

"I am not upset; I just do not want you to make yourself sick," Nightmare explained.

"it is good," Cross agreed as he continued eating.

"mr. night, how do you know my dad?" Horror asked. "you're not one of my usual babysitters."

"Ah, yes," Nightmare paused as he looked at Horror, who was still looking at him expectantly. He didn't think of this when he came up with that lie.

"speaking of babysitters, my dad never uses those and just takes me to the lab," Killer said.

"... dad takes me to work too, but i guess i understand if it is dangerous," Cross said, and Killer then nodded.

"yeah, that's true," Killer agreed.

"I am an old friend of his that was away," Nightmare finally said as he picked up a napkin and gave it to Killer before he wiped his face on his arm. At least some things didn't change, which was comforting as he smiled at the little skeleton who took the napkin happily and used it.

"may i have one?" Cross asked, and Nightmare passed a napkin to him as well.

Indeed, some things hadn't changed.

"i'm done!" Killer announced proudly.

"Then we can talk first. The rest of you, stay at the table," Nightmare said as he stood up while wrapping a tendril around Killer, which is a far easier task with his small size. Though it did make Nightmare worry that he was curling it around him too tightly or loosely and didn't have a secure grip.

"can we go under the table?" Cross asked, and Nightmare blinked at him.

"Y-yes… if that is what you want to do. I mainly do not want you to leave the room or get into anything that is dangerous," Nightmare explained.

"ok!" Cross replied happily before sliding off his chair onto the floor to sit…. Was… this a child thing to do? The concept baffled him, but Nightmare decided not to ask questions about this and speak with Killer.

---

#okay #Gooptales #babybones #nightmare!sans #killer!sans #horror!sans #cross!sans #dust!sans #kids being kids #Poor Dust is all levels of confused #Poor dust in general #Suuuure... your dad is #hints of child abuse #but dadmare is here to help

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lilyrizzy · 1 year

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ok to match you: maxiel snowed in ❄️⛄️

okay i didn't end up going 'au' on this haha sorry just general hc's but....

1. max and daniel only go somewhere snowy for the holidays bc max asks to. daniel is a little horrified at the idea of spending time in the cold volunterily, but max looks so excited showing him pictures of winter cabins online that he agrees, begrudgingly

2. the reason they are going away for the holidays is bc max came out to his dad, it went badly and so he asked daniel very quietly for a holiday 'just us, please?' daniel can't help but say yes, and he has to promise on the phone, 'next year, mum. I just- max needs me. next year we will both come.'

3. max is weirdly weather resistant, outside in just his tshirt, jeans and light jacket. meanwhile, daniel has like, his jumper, his coat, max's coat, and like ten other layers on and his teeth are still chattering. max laughs at him and tells him he is a lizard, 'because of course you must be cold blooded to be freezing like this.'

4. max gets so excited by the snow! begs daniel to make a snowman with him because he's never before. and when daniel rolls his eyes fondly and says, 'what, was there no snow in Belgium growing up?' max says all a little quieter, 'yes, but-' looking outside the window longingly, but nothing else. and daniel knows what he means and they make like, ten snowmen together- 'a whole family daniel'-because daniel doesn't know how else to bridge the gap between the childhood max had and the one he should have had:/

5. then they wake up the next day the snow is super high and there's no way daniel trusts either of them to drive into the town even if they do it for a living lol. so he just pulls max back into bed when he tries to get out because he can think of many ways to pass a day inside that don't involve leaving bed :)

#sorry this didn't have that much snowed in and was more general snow hc's lol #cw child abuse #or hints to it at least #5 au headcanons #< for the block list #thanks anon!:)

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ofmoonlitmagic · 29 days

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❛calm down. you're okay, you're safe. it was just a dream.❜ - Billie

🐝 * ― 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

The moon covered the full expanse of the center of the room as he sat up in his bed. It flooded his veins as though consuming him whole, his eyes fluttered closed like at that first full moon. You have to let it consume you. The moon devours the wolf like the wolf devours its prey.

His eyes open, and the image of the moon was gone. He shifted to check on Billie, but he's met with the sound of chains behind him instead. Glancing back, he realized two things: he's shackled and he's no longer in the bedroom he shared with his wife.

"We never left," he heard Abel say, who's chained as he used to be. The difference from memory, though it escaped his notice, is that he too is bound. This feels like how it was, how it is.

He blinked a few times, unable to get his bearings. He can hear him and he can't. "What?"

"We never left." The voice morphed from his friend's to his father's. His mouth covered, he was ripped from his reality into a world unseen, a darkness, nothing in focus. "Her eyes, everytime I fuckin' look at ya, I see her eyes." He can't get loose; he's trapped. His feet scramble for some sort of floor or ground, but he can't find any bearings. The moon unseen, it burns under his skin, and he can't breathe.

"Let go!" He hollered, batting away hands on his body, "let go, don't touch me, let go!"

❛ calm down. you're okay, you're safe. it was just a dream.❜

Finally registering the room around him, he was sweating, breathing labored, sitting upright beside his wife whose soft touch brought him back to her. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I'm sorry." His chest ached with an unforgiving tightenness. Bleary-eyed, he looked around the room.

We never left.

"I did, didn't I?" He asked Billie once he settled a bit. "I got out?"