#tw mention of past abuse

[xjulixred45x]

If Child reader of Platonic Yandere Kenjaku meets Gojo...

Before anything, this is NOT a continuation of THIS one, that is more a scenerio of "What if", this is what i call the Route to the "True Ending" for Say something. NOW lest continue.

Also, this idea was kind of given by @kiracrzy-blog (thanks for that one Sweetie! Hope You enjoy!)

Satoru probably knew about (Child reader) even before the whole disaster, he would know that Geto had a child, but he didn't have much else, Suguru was very careful with them and their mother to prevent them from going after them (Even more if the child have inherited his cursed technique), but Satoru was definitely very curious about the child.

That's why he wouldn't know how he would interact with them if he ever met them, I mean, he LITERALLY killed their father and couldn't stop them from killing their mother, why would they want to see HIM of all people? He also had time to think about it in the containing prison.

A part of him wanted to meet them, see what they were like, were they more like Suguru or more like his mother? Were they extroverted or introverted? What was Suguru like as a father? And their mother? Did they suffer a lot when they died? Did they know that THAT THING was controlling their father's body?

Many of those answers were resolved as soon as he was released.

NOW, Gojo is much calmer and more mature than one would expect in the situation, he can see that (Child reader) has already been through a lot and he doesn't want them to be more afraid of him than they probably already are. He wants them to also get answers to their questions, so he sets up some small outings, nothing too complicated, just going to eat something somewhere safe and Satoru lets them ask them questions in exchange for the same.

Satoru was happy to hear that Suguru was a good father, that (child reader)'s mother was a good mother, that they lived a happy life...until Suguru died and Kenjaku arrived in his place.

Satoru is surprised that they (Child reader) don't resent him, but then he says something he wouldn't have expected at this point.

-"You may have killed my dad...but you were my father's only best friend...we can let things be...get over it...you mean a LOT to My father even...after all..."-

...that was so...wow, (Child reader) has power, they made the strongest sorcerer of today almost cry. He didn't think he needed to hear that SO MUCH...

although of course, not everything is so positive, Satoru has to retain all the anger he feels when hearing how Kenjaku came to treat (Child reader) using the body of their OWN FATHER and he may even have to console them, because well, it's HORRIBLE that distort the image of a person you love like this.

Satoru promises, SWEARS to (child reader) that after winning against Sukuna, he will go directly against Kenjaku and when he kills him, both will give him a dignified burial with the twins, and if the changes are in their favor, the WHOLE family of Geto. and (Child reader) feel light for the first time in God knows how long, they being with Gojo Kenjaku won't be after them. They are safe, they are not alone.

I think that in general, during the entire month of preparation that Gojo does before the battle against Sukuna, he takes advantage of every gap in his schedule to spend time with (child reader) and be a kind of "fun uncle" for them (he may even try to start a conversation with the twins, but it doesn't always work). He shares sweet things with them, tells them stories from when he and their father were young, he may even teach them a couple of useful techniques for hiding and so on.

Gojo carrying (child reader) on his shoulders while they go somewhere fun or while Gojo uses his infinity to float 🥺it would be so healthy..

Meanwhile Kenjaku is pulling his hair and biting his nails because GODDAMED! He can't get (child reader) back if they are not alone!if he get even a little close to Satoru he will kill him! And now (child reader) and Gojo are TOGHETER ALMLOST EVERY DAY!! and at the same time he is soooo jealous that (child reader) is having such a good time with Gojo. He's their DAMN FATHER (in his crazy head at least)! And (child reader) acts more as if his enemy is more worthy of their affection than HIM):< (HE IS, but he will never admit it).

The good thing is that neither Sukuna nor Uraume are interested in helping Kenjaku in this, they already dislike him, but now that he spends his time complaining about a human child and since he wants them back, it is strangely tolerable, they are not going to ruin all returning them to Kenjaku. Part of them are just happy that Kenjaku is suffering for the first time in thousands of years.

Returning to the topic, I also imagine that (Child reader) shares everything that Satoru gives or gives to Choso and the twins, shows them his new clothes, saves candy for them, tells them excitedly about his day with Gojo, etc. .

Choso is so happy to see (Child reader) FINALLY be a child their age, get excited about these kinds of things and I think he would thank Satoru directly for everything he does for them even if he knows what happened in the past ( by not fully understanding humans and partly also because of all the positive feelings that have happened to Child reader)

Mimiko and Nanako are happy for (child reader), very happy, of course, they can't completely forgive Satoru, but damn, this could be the first step to HEALING (child reader), of returning to normal once everything is over , to be a family together again... who knows... maybe Gojo can be part of it... being so important to Geto...

Gojo is fine with just being a friend to (Child reader) in the future or being part of their family, as long as he is PART OF THAT FUTURE, and that future is HAPPY AND SAFE, he is fine with that, even if they don't want to see him more.

a better world is the least they owe to being Geto's child... a world where they should not have gone through all the pain and trauma they had, where he didn't have to kill their father... he wants that ( child reader) TO BE A CHILD.

So when he loses the battle against Sukuna and sees Geto on the other side, he doesn't know what to say, how to ask for forgiveness from him.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't beat him, he couldn't keep his oath, he couldn't bury Suguru with (Child reader), he couldn't see what will happen to him...HE FAILED THEM. NOT ONLY THEM, BUT ALSO SUGURU.

He left his child at the mercy of the world (with that PSYCHO still alive!!). hell, a child that Geto himself should have been able to raise if he had had different circumstances, if Geto had been there, supporting him, along with his child, both happy, safe, alive...

well, (child reader) is.

Suguru would try to console him, it's not his fault he died after all, he gave everything he had, Sukuna plays dirty......Suguru (and his wife) are grateful that at least Satoru spent the time he did with their child, trying to make a better world for them. They are grateful to him.

and (Child reader) will not be alone. Satoru KNOWS that, he can be at Peace, al least a little knowing that.

______

(Child reader) only sees on the screens (while Choso and Nanako try to cover their eyes) the result of the battle, Sukuna has won, Satoru lost.

Kenjaku is still alive.

but nothing stay still too long. then everyone is going to fight, those from Culling Game, the students, special grades, Yuji...

Choso puts a hand on (Child reader's) head, Mimiko and Nanako prepare to fight, they know what it means, they don't know how they feel about it(they already had a LOT of emotions to deal with), but they know what they have in mind.

Kenjaku is going to die. whether he like it or not.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #neutral reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #yandere platonic #platonic yandere kenjaku #jujutsu kaisen kenjaku #kenjaku #yandere kenjaku #gojo satoru x reader #platonic gojo #platonic satoru gojo #tw yandere #tw mention of past abuse #platonic geto #mimiko and nanako #platonic choso

[dovewingkinnie]

good teacher

#oc #oc art #me when i bully my own students #what a great guy #did i mention hes like in his mid 20s or something #you are a full grown man sir!!!! #stop picking on people who are barely past 10!!! #abuse tw #tw abuse

[can-u-like-stop]

There was a time when Simon broke Price’s heart every day.

It wasn’t his fault, not at all. And Price would hate it if Simon took it as such. Which is probably why Price didn’t say anything for so long.

But he saw.

He saw how Simon would immediately tense and drop what he was doing whenever Price walked in, even if he was on his off time.

He saw how Simon’s jaw clenched when he relayed bad news to Price, almost expecting a berating for something out of his hands.

(Price had growled and banged his hand on the table once, the almost imperceptible jump Simon did because of it was enough for Price to regret it)

And he saw how Simon flinched when Price went to pat him on the back. That one hurt like a bastard.

But one night, when Simon surprised him with a knock on the door to drop off some papers, Price knew he needed to do something, watching as Simon apologised and edged into the room.

“Could I say something, Simon?” Price asks before Simon can turn to leave.

Simon freezes. “Alright, sir?” He holds his hands behind his back. Attentive, obedient, anxious.

Price keeps his movements casual, not knowing how else to ease Simon’s nerves.

“I’m not your father, Simon,”

There’s a tense silence.

Simon huffs a half-hearted laugh. “I’m… aware of that, sir…”

Price shakes his head. He gets up, and reaches out to place a hand on Simon’s shoulder.

Simon tenses, but stays put.

“I mean, son…” Price says, “I’m not like your father.”

Simon’s cautiously confused gaze drops into something fragile for a second. His eyes move away from Price’s and he fiddles with his gloves.

“I know that too, sir,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Good man,” Price says, knowing he’s pushing his luck. “Go on, you’re free from paperwork for one night at least.”

“Thank you, sir,” Simon mutters and legs it out of there.

At the time, Price thought he’d fucked it all up. And maybe he did.

But now, Price swears he sees a different side of Simon. Youthful, vibrant, and free.

And his heart is made full again.

#tw past abuse #tw abuse mention #simon ghost riley #john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #call of duty #cod #kind of corny but idk i thought of this on a whim

[obsidiancreates]

Henry Spencer Is A Bastard (With A Broken Nose)

Shawn and Jules have been living together for two weeks when Jules storms into the precinct, grabs Lassiter by the arm, and drags him into the interrogation room.

“O’Hara, what the hell is-”

“You’ve spent time alone with Henry,” she says, sitting Lassiter in the suspect chair. “What was he like?”

“What?”

“This is important, Carlton.”

Lassiter sighs, looking around the room for a moment before answering. “Unpleasant and judgemental. He had every quality of a great cop but none of an actual person I’d spend time with.”

“Which for you is saying something,” Jules mumbles, looking to the side. “Would-would you say you think he’s capable of intentional child endangerment or neglect?”

Lassiter sits up more. “What? O’Hara, what is this about?”

Jules takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I was helping Shawn get some stuff from his old room, and we found an old journal from when he was a kid.It was mostly just doodles and half-finished homework, and he said to just throw it away, but… I kept it. I thought it was cute, to be able to look at what went through his brain as a kid.”

“O’Hara. If you’re alleging what I think-”

“I read more later while he was out with Gus and one of the pages was a failed writing assignment. He was supposed to write about what he did over the weekend and he wrote that his dad locked him a trunk and made him pretend to be kidnapped.”

Lassiter lets out a breath. “Okay. But you and I both know Spencer’s imagination-”

“Carlton, remember the kicked-out tailight? When he got shot?”

“O’Hara, I was with Henry through that whole investigation, and I don’t think I can say that the man I investigated with would purposefully hurt or neglect his son. He was like a machine through the whole thing.”

“There was more, though, Carlton. One of the assignments was to write about how they spent Easter and Shawn’s said he got cut on some glass trying to dig up his eggs. He drew a picture, it-”

She pulls out her phone and hands it to her partner. Lassiter looks at a crude drawing of a small stick figure on it’s hands and knees, overly-large shards on the ground in front of it, and an egg a good few lines below it. There’s a taller stick figure behind the small one, with a wide-open mouth and the words ‘You can do better, Shawn,’ written beside it.

The teacher’s note on the side says that Shawn needs to stop making up stories for assignments about his real life.

Lassiter hands the phone back. “O’Hara…”

Jules sits back in her chair a bit, the tension giving way to a slumped tiredness. “I know they’ve never had an… easy relationship, but Henry has always been so present, ever since we’ve known Shawn. I thought that was a good thing and Shawn’s discomfort was just Shawn being… Shawn.” She looks down at her hand in guilt. “What if I completely missed that he has reason, Carlton?”

Lassiter grabs one of Jules’s hands. “O’Hara, Henry Spencer is a bitter, unlikeable, and overbearing old man- but I really don’t think he’s capable of child abuse.”

Jules holds his hand back and gives it a squeeze. “I just… don’t know how to ask Shawn if these are real. He’s not exactly forthcoming about messy emotions and memories.”

Lassiter nods, and then blinks. “So let’s ask Guster. They’ve been stuck together like flies on a flytrap forever.”

Jules shakes her head. “If Shawn isn’t going to say anything, I really don’t think Gus will.”

“Well, you can either ask Guster if these are real, or you can worry about it forever and never get any answers.” Lassiter knows his partner well enough to know that’s unacceptable to her.

She gives his hand one more squeeze. “I’m just worried. Henry works here. He’s in charge of Shawn.”

“And I’m sure that when we talk to Guster about all this, we’ll learn that Spencer was just exaggerating like he always does.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gus reads the page with wide eyes. “Wait, he was serious about that?”

Lassiter stifles the urge to shout ‘Come on!’ when he hears Jules suck in a breath.

“You mean you knew about this already?”

“I mean, Shawn told me once that he liked Easter at my house way more because there was no ‘manhunt training’, but I thought he just meant something like when his dad would have him stakeout their porch.”

“He what?”

“It, sounds worse than it is. … I think.” Gus looks down at the old notebook again. “I thought. … I mean, Henry was always a little intense. When Shawn and I were boyscouts he used to set up challenges that were impossible to win, and then make us feel bad for not winning.”

“What do you mean, impossible to win?” Lassiter is starting to get concerned now. Shawn’s incessant need to show everyone up has been a pain in his ass for years, and if Henry reinforced that grating attitude and now acts like he tried to quell it-

“Stuff like telling us to go find a rocket in the middle of the woods and then going and grabbing it himself. He used to promise us ice cream if we won, then say he’d eat it himself if we didn’t win next time.” Gus’s face pinches the more he talks about the memories. “Gosh, I haven’t thought about that in years. I guess I didn’t realize how messed up that is until I said it out loud.”

“It’s horrible,” Jules says.

“But not criminal,” Lassiter reminds her. “And as… weird and dangerous as the eggs thing is, that’s not criminal either. … I think.”

“What about the trunk, Carlton?”

“... Yeah, that part’s looking pretty bad.”

Gus shuts the notebook. “We need to talk to Shawn about this. I don’t know if I’m even remembering right, but I know he will.”

“He’d never open up about something like this,” Jules says, gesturing to the notebook and letting her arms drop back to her sides with a flop. “He barely tells me about his childhood at all.”

“Well I was there for most of it, and I need to make sure I didn’t miss some serious abuse going down for our entire lives. Do you know how many times I’ve defended his dad to him, Juliet? … Oh my god, on that same boyscout trip with the rocket, he told me his dad had never said he loved him!”

Lassiter doesn’t need to look at Jules to know she’s probably seething with the rage of the entire underworld- if he believed in such a thing. 

Henry better hope they find out it’s not as bad as it’s seeming.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Shawn gets home, Jules, Lassiter, and Gus are all sitting on the couch looking somber. Well, Jules and Gus look somber. Lassiter looks mildly offput.

“Guys! What’s all this, are we having some kinda surprise party?” Shawn looks around for decorations, but there’s nothing. He looks back with excitement. “Is it a case? A big one?”

“Shawn, sit down, we need to ask you about something.” Jules gestures for him to take a seat on a different chair.

“Uh-oh. That’s not your happy voice.” Shawn sits down and leans forward. “Hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

Jules takes a deep breath, and pulls out the notebook. Shawn looks at it. “Oh, that? Please don’t tell me that my drawing skills when I was eight are a dealbreaker.”

“Shawn, did Henry…” Jules falters. Shawn’s expression… 

It doesn’t harden, per say. It just… shifts. Becomes a little closed-off.

“Spencer, did Henry actually make you dig through broken glass to find ridiculous holiday candy?” Lassiter says, offering Jules his hand for support. She takes it.

Shawn’s mouth quirks up in the corner, a huff-laugh escaping him. His eyes aren’t as amused, a dark look in them. “What? How-how’d you know about that?”

“Oh my god.” Gus looks sick.

“Guys, seriously, what is this?” Shawn reaches out and snatches the notebook, flipping through it. Fast at first, and then slower. The slight smirk disappears completely, and Jules and Gus know that habit of sticking his tongue over his teeth means Shawn is not in a good emotional space whatsoever as he reads.

He closes the notebook and tosses it onto the coffee table, sitting back into the chair and sniffling. “It’s uh- it’s nothing.”

“Dude, that is not nothing. I thought you were making that stuff up when we were kids!”

“What? Why would I make that up?” That just seems to confuse Shawn.

“Because you were always making things up!”

“Not about my dad! You were like, the one person I could talk about him with! You thought I was lying about everything the whole time?” Now he looks hurt. 

“Not everything, but crazy stuff like him locking you in a trunk in the middle of a hot day and putting broken glass over your eggs, yeah! Oh my go- this makes me look back on everything I know in a completely different light, Shawn!”

“Okay, you can’t actually be this surprised, Gus. I mean, you were at my house all the time, you know how he was. We couldn’t even play hide-and-seek without me getting a lecture about hunting perps the right way.” The bitterness in his voice is familiar to his friends, the way he keeps from meeting their eyes, the arms crossed over his chest and tense body language. It’s not that they’ve never seen him like this. But they’ve never seen him like this and truly understood it. Even Gus.

Gus, who looks increasingly horrified as he thinks back on more and more memories. “When we were really little and you told me your dad would throw you out for reading comics, were you serious?”

Shawn scoffs a little. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Did he actually ban them?”

“... Yeah. That part he did. He said they made cops look bad.”

“Good god, Spencer, you’re talking like everything in your house was about cops twenty-four-seven.”

“Gee, Lassie, I wonder why. You’ve met my dad, right?”

“But you’re talking like he expected you to be a perfect cop from the second you were born.”

Shawn goes silent. He still won’t look at any of them.

“Oh, my god.” Jules reaches out to put a hand on Shawn’s knee. “Shawn, did he expect that?”

“... Look, guys, it’s… it’s done, alright? It is what it is, and… I’ve accepted that, and I’m working on making things work with my dad. I don’t… I don’t need this. Okay? I don’t want to think about it and get all…” He huffs. “Last time I thought a little too hard about all this stuff I ended up on my motorcycle with nowhere to go, and-and I don’t want to do that again, alright?”

“Shawn, this is important. We’re all working with Henry constantly, watching how he treats you, and this changes how some of that looks.”

“How?” Shawn finally looks at Jules, right in the eyes. “How does this change anything? He’s the same person, Jules. He-he’s controlling, and-and expects way too much, and is disappointed in me. That’s not different now just because you know he went overboard with stuff when I was a kid.”

Lassiter lets out a deep breath. He’d really… really been hoping this wouldn’t be the case. “How overboard, Spencer?”

Shawn looks at Lassie, and then clicks his tongue and looks away again. “Not in that way, man. He never hit me or anything.”

“So what did he do?”

“Why is this an interrogation?” Shawn stands up, pulling away from Jules’s outstretched hand. “This is stuff for me, and my dad to hash out, okay? Just me and him.”

“Did your mom know about this stuff?” Gus asks. 

The mention of his mom seems to make Shawn shut down even more. “Now this is really over.” He walks away, and pauses for just one second to turn around and say, “Don’t- don’t go my dad about all this. I don’t want…”

“... Don’t want what, Shawn?” Jules’s voice is soft and careful.

Shawn doesn’t seem to be able to find the end of the thought. He just shakes his head and walks back out the door.

The three sit in silence for a minute. Jules has tears in her eyes. Gus looks almost shellshocked.

Lassiter stands up. “Alright, I’m officially taking lead on this case.” He looks down at his partner. “O’Hara, find out who in the precinct knew Henry well and still works there. We’ll interview anyone who he might’ve talked to his son about, see if we can dig up any leads there.”

“Whoa, Shawn just said he didn’t want his dad finding out we’re asking about all this, and we just learned he’s way worse than we thought,” Gus says, standing up too. “We can’t start poking around the precinct, because in case you forgot Lassie, he works there!”

“Part-time.”

“He’ll know something is up.”

“Please. I think I know how to run a discreet investigation, Guster.”

“Could you hide something like that from Shawn?”

“... Of course.”

“No, you couldn’t, and if you can’t hide it from Shawn it’s a safe bet that you can’t hide it from his dad.”

Jules stands up. “No, Carlton is right. None of us realized how these pieces fit together until we all talked about it with each other, right? If Shawn won’t… can’t, open up to us about it, the next best thing is getting as many witness statements as possible.”

“Why? It just feels like digging things up to dig them up at this point.”

“Because Henry is currently in charge of Spencer’s livelihood, Guster.”

“I know! He’s in charge of part of mine too!”

“Right.” Jules looks up at Lassiter. “And if we can prove to The Chief that Henry has a negative, unreliable bias against Shawn, we can lessen some of that control!”

“As much as I’d hate to see Spencer off the leash again, I’d hate to be helping enable an abuser even more,” Lassiter agrees. 

“Abuser is a strong word.” Gus doesn’t look like he feels that sentence is 100% true. “He wasn’t all bad a lot of the time. I mean, he loosened up on the comic thing when we were older.”

“We know he cares, Gus,” Jules assures. “But, caring doesn’t mean he didn’t do something wrong. Really, really wrong.”

Gus swallows, and then nods. “I know.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They collect a good few statements over the next week.

One statement claims that Shawn would play poker with some of the officers when Henry brought him to the station- why Henry was bringing a seven year old to an active police station and then not keeping an eye on him was something that went unanswered- and that Henry was obviously upset when he discovered this. Another statement corroborated the story, and added that he caught sight of Henry taking all the money Shawn made from the games and shoving it into the police donation box.

One statement was from an elderly file sorter, who claimed that Shawn was sometimes sent down to grab files for his dad and used to complain to her that henry would only buy Shawn cop car toys, and no others. When she’d asked Shawn if he wanted to be a cop when he grew up, Shawn had reportedly said quote, “Something about not getting a choice.” Other statements claimed, when this was brought up, that Shawn seemed very excited by the idea of being a cop when he grew up- until his arrest.

One statement, given by someone Lassiter vaguely remembers being rookies with back in the day, lends more credibility to the recollections of the elderly woman. The statement claimed that when the rookie would go on ride-alongs with Henry or work under him, Henry would almost always complain about Shawn. Everything from Shawn having an interest that didn’t relate to being a cop, to Shawn ‘acting like a child’ when he would have been under twelve according to the timeline, to Shawn ‘not even trying’ during a specific incident where Henry claimed Shawn forged his signature to go on a field trip and quote “hesitated for a second with his pen or something- I remember it was something really minor, and Henry couldn’t stand it. I thought it was weird that he was teaching his son how to forge signatures and then expecting the kid to never use the skill, but it wasn’t really my place to say.”

By the end of the week, Jules is steaming and Shawn hasn’t come around the precinct at all. Gus keeps dropping by, digging up old journals of his own to use as cross-references when possible. Shawn is quiet with Jules at home, like he’s waiting for something big to happen and he’s worried he could trigger it early.

It makes Jules more upset at Henry, because now her boyfriend’s emotional immaturity seems a lot less like a natural childish nature and a lot more like having genuinely never been taught how to handle anything.

No, according to the information she and Lassiter have gathered, it looks like all Henry taught Shawn was that winning is everything, being the best is non-negotiable, and Shawn was born to be a cop and anything that didn’t align with that idea just… shouldn’t be there.

“Wow.” Lassiter tosses the latest statement onto his desk. “And I thought Henry didn’t discipline Spencer enough as a kid. Some of this stuff makes it sound like Spencer grew up in a boot camp.”

“He basically did,” Jules says bitterly, reading over one of Gus’s old notebooks. “Gus wasn’t even looking for evidence of it, and these journals are full of casual, offhand observations that look worse and worse the more we know. Listen to this one. ‘Today Shawn was in a bad mood, and when I asked him why he said his dad stole his mood ring after showing him to turn the box upside-down. I said that’s cheating, and Shawn said it can’t be if his dad said to do it.’ Who the hell steals a mood ring from a kid?”

“You’re getting caught on the small stuff again, O’Hara.”

“I know, I know. I just- now that we know some of the major things, even the small stuff is making me just unbelievably angry.”

“Yeah, it’s rough to read. At least you and I wanted to be cops.”

“Right? No wonder Shawn ended up a psychic detective, how do you just do something else after being raised so specifically like that? And no wonder he-he buys EasyBake Ovens and goofs off all the time, he had it so strict as a kid…”

“Mmmmm… let’s not excuse every antic, O’Hara. A lot fo it is still just him being a jackass.”

“I won’t get into this with you again, Carlton.”

“Good, I don’t want to get into it again either. … Heads up.”

Jules closes the notebook and tucks it into a desk drawer as swiftly and inconspicuously as possible, Lassie doing the same for his file. Henry walks past them, barley sparing a glance as he makes his way somewhere else.

Jules stares daggers at him so intensely that if dropped to the ground covered with enough puncture wounds to imitate Julias Caesar, Lassiter would think it was a mild scene all things considered.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s three weeks since Jules found the notebook when Shawn rolls over in bed, puts his arm around, and mumbles “I have an eidetic memory.”

Jules puts her book down and looks at Shawn with furrowed brows. “What?”

Shawn sighs and sits up properly. “I have an eidetic memory,” he says again, “And… I don’t like looking back, because I remember everything perfectly. Which means I usually remember what I felt perfectly too, and it usually wasn’t great feelings.” He can’t look her in the eyes this time, either, but instead of the tense, protective body language of before, he’s holding a pillow close to his chest and slightly burying his face into it, almost sagging around it.

Jules starts to rub his back. She knows how hard this kind of… difficult emotional discussion, is for him. Now she even knows why- suspects why, really, because not all of it is proven in full, but still she thinks she can cout is as knowing. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“About the memory?”

“Yeah. That sounds… really difficult to deal with, Shawn. Does Gus know?”

“Yeah, he knows. I think other than my dad, and… and you, he’s the only person who knows.”

“Shawn…”

“I just, I just want you to know… that I’m not asking you to drop it for no reason,” Shawn says, “Or-or because I don’t feel like it’s important. I know it is, I do. I just…”

“Don’t want to relive a lot of it,” Jules says softly. “... Shawn, does this mean you remember everything perfectly? All the time?”

“Eh… fifty-fifty. The ADHD gets in the way sometimes.”

“... But when it doesn’t?”

“I just try not to think about a lot of it.” Shawn moves again, to look her in the eyes, He takes a deep breath, and he looks a little pained. This kind of thing is painful for him, he’s so unsure how to navigate it. “I have to keep moving forward, Jules. It’d be so… so easy to just get stuck, forever, in all the stuff stored in my head. And I’m really, really trying to, I mean that. It’s difficult, and I’m not… always great at it, but I’m trying.”

“And you’re worried we’ll set you back?”

“No! No, I… I don’t know.” Shawn lets Jules pull him close to her chest and begin running her hand through his hair. “My dad and I don’t solve stuff, Jules. We just… argue over it. I’m getting tired of it.”

“... I understand.” She kisses the top of his head. “But I don’t like him being in charge of you when you’re a grown man anymore.”

“You think I do? … But it’s making him a lot happier than he’s been in a long time.”

“You should be happy too, Shawn.”

“Hey. Hey, I am happy.” He looks up into her eyes. “Look at me right now. I’m being cradled like a sweet little baby seal by the most beautiful, badass woman in the entire world. Of course I’m happy.”

Jules laughs a little and contorts a bit to kiss him on the mouth. “I’m glad you told me that, Shawn. And I promise, I won’t ask you to relive anything else for me.”

“... But you’re not going to stop investigating my dad, are you?”

“Did you stop with mine?”

“... Fair enough.” Shawn lays his head back down, and soon enough Jules hears soft snoring from him and mumbled phrases in his sleep.

…

An eidetic memory. Perfect recall.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Jules goes over everything they have so far knowing Shawn has a perfect memory, it makes her angry to such a degree that she thinks it might kill her. Not literally, but it feels strong enough.

She has some of Shawn’s old report cards, some statements she got from former teachers via social media contact, and some copies of pages of one of Gus’s old journals laid out in front of her, and she sees a pattern.

Shawn didn’t do good in school. His report cards are less than average, and are packed with notes about how he doesn’t pay attention, doesn’t seem to absorb any information, and doesn’t remember anything he’s taught. The statements from the teachers describe Shawn as hyperactive, passionate about everything but his schoolwork, and having difficulty with staying observant in class.

Gus’s old journals are full of the same, but also the opposite. Shawn didn’t pay attention in school, but sometimes he could pull something the teacher said from his memory word for word without even trying, and then a few entries later Gus would mention Shawn failed a test on that exact subject. Shawn got beat up because he told a bully he memorized the pattern of answers used in the math tests, but his dad told the teacher and let Shawn know he was doing it. And most of all, Gus writes about how freaky his friend’s ability to look at people and figure them out is. How Shawn notices almost everything almost all the time, and usually makes some dramatic conclusion that isn’t right, but he still notices things and Gus can’t figure out how Shawn fingers things out.

Detective training, and an eidetic memory, and psychic visions. Jules is now pretty sure that Shawn covers up some of his deductions using his visions- he’s known enough impossible information that they can’t possibly all be deductions in disguise, but when she thinks back there’s a few times where it’s obvious in hindsight he used his abilities to cover up the fact that he’s an incredible, highly-trained detective.

Maybe she’s jumping to a conclusion, but she finds herself thinking ‘Because Henry made him hate that he can do it so well,’ as she pieces it all together.

Gus’s journals lend a lot of credit to that theory. Shawn is smart, and Gus knows it, but Shawn acts dumb sometimes and Gus doesn’t understand why, and then Gus mentions that it’s weird that Henry kept Shawn up all night before to stakeout their porch and now Shawn is tired during Little League and Henry tells him to get his head in the game because Henry is the coach.

Henry is the coach, Henry is the chaperone on the field trip, Henry is their Scout Master- he’s in charge of every part of Shawn’s life except for school. And Maddie is rarely brought up, even when Gus writes about spending all day or night or even weekend at the Spencer house. Jules hasn’t seen Shawn’s Mom since Yang almost blew her up, and she just figured that Maddie wanted to stay out of Santa Barbara after that, understandably. She’s getting a different feeling about Maddie staying away now. It seems a lack of presence was her main impression in Shawn’s life, or at least, Shawn’s life through the lens of Child Gus.

So it was basically just Henry. And her heart aches for the thought of someone being stuck in a bad marriage, basically raising a kid alone, and that kid being as hyper and curious and chaotic as Shawn. But the ache is smothered in the sense of righteous rage when she reads other entries about things like a girl throwing a ball at Shawn and missing, and an ostrich choking on the ball, and Henry dragging Shawn away. The entry goes on to say that Shawn told Gus that Henry didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t do it, even after then-superior officer Captain Connors came in and tried to vouch for Shawn.

Henry always assumed the worst. Assumes, the worst, still.

Shawn tries so hard, sometimes, with his dad, and Jules is starting to realize that Henry doesn’t put the same effort in. He tries some, she knows it, she’s seen it, but she also sees him constantly berate, put down, and insult Shawn, publicly and privately. 

Suddenly she remembers something from when Shawn went undercover on the dating show, something she’d been too upset over about Shawn being there at all to really take in in the moment.

“I’m sorry, this woman is way too good for my son. If it was me, I’d vote no.”

She doesn’t have Shawn’s memory, so without rewatching the clip she can’t be totally sure those are Henry’s exact words, but she’s certain that it’s the exact sentiment.

First of all, she takes a little offense to that for herself. But secondly and more strongly, she takes offense for Shawn. As she thinks about it she can remember the way Shawn tried to cover up the awkwardness in the clip, the way the girl on the show whispered “Is this a joke?” and the way it absolutely was not. The way Henry said that on TV, to Shawn’s face, with no hint of shame.

“O’Hara.” She looks up to see Lassiter holding a cup of coffee and a bagel for her. She takes them and Lassiter says, “There’s more steam coming out of your ears than there is that cup.”

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I just… I don’t know if I can control myself tomorrow when Henry comes back in. The more I dig into this, the more I want to just- go back in time and pick little Shawn up and take him somewhere better.”

“Well as much as we don’t like it, O’Hara, Spencer is who he is because he was raised the way he was raised.”

“I know. And I like, who Shawn is!”

“Inexplicably.”

“Carlton.”

“Mmm.”

“Anyway… I love Shawn, and who he is, all of him, but I still wish he could’ve been who he is without going through all of this. It’s not okay.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Lassiter sighs. “Look, O’Hara, put the case down for a while. At this point we’ve got enough to at least make The Chief doubt some of Henry’s intentions and judgements when it comes to Spencer and, well, that was the goal.”

“... Yeah. Yes, okay, I will… I will put this down for a few days.” Jules closes up the file and puts it back into her drawer. “Shawn is still less than happy I’m working on this, anyway. He understands why, but I know he wishes he didn’t.” He probably understands a lot of things he wishes he didn’t. Jules has had to grapple with the realization that she actually doesn’t know as much about how Shawn’s mind works as she thought she knew, and that it’s possible she’ll never know a lot of it. There’s more than just psychic visions to the mystery of his mind, and some of those mysteries are locked up with a key cast out of self-resentments and resentments of his dad.

God, she hopes she can keep up a poker face when Henry comes in.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her file is missing from her desk the next day, and so is Lassiter’s. They both know why.

They march over to Henry’s desk just as Gus comes in to collect a check, and all three end up standing over Henry as he openly and unashamedly reads through the Spencer Upbringing Case File. Gus takes a step back when he realizes that’s what’s happening, as does Lassiter.

But not because of Henry.

Jules looks murderous.

Henry purses his mouth in a frown and nods, raising up the file and then closing it and tossing it onto his desk in one smooth movement. “It’s comprehensive,” he says, like he’s grading a paper. “But it’s a bunch of biased bull.”

“Give them back.” Jule’s voice is ice-cold. 

Henry shrugs, moving his head side to side for a second, still frowning, and then says, “Nah.” He takes the files, and drops them in the trash. “I think you owe me an explanation for why the head detective and his partner are investigating the way I raised my son. Why’d Shawn put you up to this?”

“He didn’t.”

Henry scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

Jules slams one hand onto Henry’s desk. The whole bullpen goes quiet.

“I was helping Shawn get something from your house, and I found a notebook,” she says. 

“Oh, so, you found one of Shawn’s little projects where he exaggerated things to make himself look like a victim of the world?”

“I found the writings of a little kid who didn’t seem to realize at the time of writing that being locked in a hot car trunk and digging through broken glass for Easter Eggs wasn’t normal.”

Henry laughs, crossing his arms. “That’s what you have a problem with? It’s called training, detective. You went through it yourself.”

“When I was an adult, by my choice, and I sure as hell never had to dig through glass.”

“You’re really hung up on that.”

“Because it’s genuinely evil!”

Henry’s smug look melts into a scowl. “How dare you.”

“How dare I?! Do you understand how much all of this is still affecting Shawn, even right now?! He can barely talk about all of this!” “Oh, well, he sure seem capable of reminding me of it.”

“Because you did it! You’re the only other person in the entire world who understood what was done to him in the name of training because you did it!”

“Done to h- you’re overreacting, detective!”

“I, agree, what is going on out here?” Chief Vick hurries over to Henry’s desk from her own. “Detectives, there had better be a damn good reason-”

“There is, Chief.” Lassiter reaches into the trashcan and pulls out the files.

“Karen, Detective O’Hara has allowed her romantic entanglement with my son to-”

“Henry was borderline abusive during Shawn’s childhood,” Jules interrupts, facing her Chief. Chief Vick’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open, a disbelieving laugh escaping her even as she accepts the files and flips them open. “You understand what it is you’re alleging, O’Hara, and against who?”

“I do, Chief, and I think our case file speaks for itself.” All eyes are on them now. Jules doesn’t back down. “I’m well aware of my emotional ties to this case, but I assure you I’m not allowing it to cloud my judgment. If I was, I wouldn’t have used the word borderline to describe the conclusions I’ve come to.”

“Karen, this is ridiculous.”

But Chief Vick is focused on the files in her hands. Her eyes flick up to Henry. “Is it?” She looks over to Gus, who’s been watching with the quiet tension of a prey animal waiting to make a run for it. “Mister Guster, can you genuinely testify to the validity and accuracy of the claims in these files?”

“Oh, um, well, most of those are from my own journals.” Gus’s eyes flick between Henry and Jules. “I’d say that’s even more reliable than just plain memory.”

“It certainly is.” Chief Vick turns her eyes back to the file. “Henry, I think after I’m done going through these we’re going to have a chat about some of your current responsibilities and extent of authority over consultants.”

“Oh, come on, Karen!” Henry looks around at the entire precinct staring, and judging. “This is completely unfounded, and-and blown way out of propor-!”

Henry doesn’t finish the sentence because Juliet O’Hara punches him in the nose.

There’s gasps from everyone in the room. Jules’s fist is bloodied. Henry’s nose went CRUNCH! when her fist made contact.For a long moment it’s like the whole room has collectively stopped breathing. 

“I don’t make unfounded accusations, Henry,” Jules breathes. “Especially not when I have been building a case for over a month, and have watched Shawn completely close off whenever I asked him about this.”

Henry holds his nose, looking at Jules with fear that Lassiter and Gus don’t think is nearly intense enough. “Juliet,” Henry pants, blood streaming out from between his fingers. “This is insane.”

“Quiet, Spencer.” Lassiter moves Jules a little farther away. Her fist is still raised. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting my partner, especially not in the same way you do your son.”

“What?! You can’t believe all this too, Lassiter.”

“You know I’m not Shawn’s biggest fan, but if you think what O’Hara has done over the last month is anything less than the best damn investigation possible then I have to seriously reconsider some of our shared opinions of your son’s work.”

Gus glances at a box of tissues on Henry’s desk- and then subtly moves to knock them on the floor and kicks them away.

“Herny, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the precinct for a few days while this gets handled. O’Hara, I’m going to need to speak with you in my office.”

Jules lowers her fist, and nods. She knows she can’t just punch Henry and get away with it scot-free, and she accepts that.

No-one moves to help Henry. Not a single soul. He grumbles as he makes his way past Gus to grab a different box of tissues.

“It’s like he just sucks the respect out of people,” Henry grumbles. 

CRACK!

No-one is more surprised than Gus when his fist slams into Henry’s jaw. Gus reels away immediately, shrinking and cradling his hand, as Henry goes down.

“Mister Guster!” Chief Vick moves forward to try and catch Henry.

“Uuuuh!” Guss whines, shaking his hand. “I-I mean, you don’t get to say that about Shawn! He asked us not to keep doing this! You gotta stop assuming the worst of him all the time!”

“When he earns it!” Henry barks out, then groans and spits. It’s mostly blood.

“You won’t let him earn it!” Jules is furious again. “How many killers does he have to catch for you to see that your son is an amazing man?!”

“It’s not about catching killers,” Henry says, spitting again. “It’s about growing up.”

“Says the grown man who can’t even tell his son ‘I love you’.”

“He doesn’t say it either.”

“That’s not helping your case, Spencer.” Lassiter has his eyes on Jules and Gus. “And considering I’m the only one on said case who hasn’t taken a shot at you yet, I’d say keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, what do you know.” Henry spits a third time. The Chief looks about ready to punch him herself. “Father-son relationships are complicated, especially when the father wants what’s best for the son and the son just wants to throw everything away and get himself killed!”

“You wanted him to be a cop, Spencer, you didn’t exactly put him on a path to a peaceful and easy life.”

“I put him on the right path, and he never appreciated it, and that is what your case file should say!”

“You know what, Spencer?” Lassiter takes a step closer to the bleeding man. “I’ve put up with a lot of crap from both you and your son over the years, and you two are a lot more similar than you think. But one thing I can say that Shawn has over you is that he doesn’t mean it when he says stupid crap like that.”

“He looks up to you, you ass,” Jules adds. “And he is willing to put aside all of the things you say and do to him to have a good relationship with you. Do you understand how incredible that is? That you don’t even have to work to have him in your life? That he comes to you no matter how many times you tear into him for it?”

“He comes to me because he never listens when he needs to.” Henry’s face is starting to become very purple as the bruises set in. “I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but he needs, my help.”

“Exactly! And he feels like you’re reliable enough to give it to him, and you do! So why do you treat that as though it’s a fault? Do you have any idea what I would have given as a kid, and even now, to be able to just-just go up to my dad and say ‘I need help,’ and have him be there to help me? That means the world!”

“Not to Shawn.” Henry looks pained beyond just the broken nose and possible broken jaw. “The kid is too focused on himself.”

“You don’t know your son at all, then.” Jules turns and walks with The Chief to her office.

Gus shakes his head, grabs the check out of Henry’s paperwork pile, checks that it’s signed, and leaves. 

“Oh, really? It’s up to me to take him to the hospital?” Lassiter looks around and then huffs. “Alright, Spencer. Don’t bleed on my seats, or my dashboard, or anything but yourself.”

“I’m not a bad father,” Henry says, still holding his nose. “I care about my son.”

“Yeah, and somehow Shawn knows that even though you act the way you do.” Lassie buckles Henry in for him so that the nose remains pinched. “But here’s the thing, Spencer. Your son is an arrogant, attention-hogging, impulsive, completely absurd person, and he didn’t just become like that out of a vacuum.”

“Yes he did. I did everything I could. I did everything right as much as possible.”

Lassiter sighs as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You seriously think that? You’d be okay with your grandkid being raised that way?”

“If they had Shawn’s potential, yes.”

“... Dammit.” Lassiter turns to Henry, and punches him in the gut. Henry coughs, and then chokes on his own blood, and then coughs again.

“What the hell?!” Henry gets out between hacks.

“O’Hara would’ve done it. I feel like I owed it to her. … And honestly, Spencer, after compiling that damn case, I’ve been wanting to do it for myself anyway. I already knew you were an overbearing perfectionist with a control issue, but you wishing your son was more like that than he is is even worse.”

“Shawn’s no perfectionist,” Henry wheezes. 

“But he is overbearing with a control issue more often than not. Like I said inside, you two are a lot more similar than you think, and frankly I blame you for the parts of Shawn that go past mild annoyance and into infuriating obstacle.”

“I’d never just hand a collar over to save someone’s ego,” Henry coughs out.

“See, that’s where I wish Shawn wasn’t like you.”

“He’s handed you a collar twice.”

“What? He has not.”

And Henry must be a little delirious from the repeated blows, because Lassiter is pretty sure his next words of “See, this is why Shawn should’ve been head detective,” wouldn’t come out of him otherwise.

Lassiter grips the steering wheel tighter and makes a sharp turn into the hospital parking lot. “Well he’s not, and from the sound of things he never would’ve been anyway.”

“He could’ve been a perfect cop.”

“He’d have been miserable and you know it.”

“He’d be doing things right.”

“You’re hopeless.” Lassiter isn’t any gentler helping Henry out of the car than he was helping him in. “I’m not picking you back up when they’re done with you.”

“I’ll call Shawn.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.” And Shawn will come, and probably be mad on his dad’s behalf, and will definitely be mad at all three of the punchers, because he loves his dad enough to overlook years and years of mistreatment that most people would probably consider ground for cutting contact. “And Spencer? If you ever insult O’Hara’s work again, or say anything that gets her that angry, I will help her cover up your disappearance.”

“You don’t mean that,” Henry scoffs.

“Try me.” Lassiter gets back in his car. “And if I hear from her that you’re still badmouthing your son to his face, I’ll make you disappear myself.”

And then he drives away. 

And Henry walks into the hospital alone.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #blood tw #blood mention #violence #juliet o'hara #carlton lassiter #burton guster #burton gus guster #shawn spencer #henry spencer hate #I hate Henry Spencer #psychfic #fanfic #my attemps at fanfic #abuse mention #child abuse mention #past child abuse mention

[sharptoothed-gaze]

Hello fandom. I understand that very few of you will care about my personal opinion, and that's fine, but I find it important enough to how I run my blog to share anyway.

In the future, all of my posts will simply be avoiding any mention of Wilbur wherever possible. His character is a major part of Tallulah's story, but I will be keeping him away from my blog as much as I can.

Typically, I would go with a "death of the author" approach and keep mentions of the character and cc more separate. However, the cc's alleged quest for money and fame changes that entirely. I will not be contributing to that. That's just my personal choice, so there should be no shame to anyone who chooses to separate the two, obviously.

I watched Shubble's video and I saw his response. In my opinion, it was terrible. The way he centralized his own "growth," minimized the pain he caused, and left the actual apology on the second page is revealing. His statement reminds me of some of the past emotional abuse I've experienced, so his content will no longer be welcome on my blog. I believe in the merit of archiving, so I will not be deleting any past posts, but he will no longer have any place in my death family related tags.

#I am not usually an unprovoked statement kind of person #especially because I don't think that's why people look at my content and I 100% understand a desire for escapism #However his name would absolutely pop up naturally on this blog since I main Philza. #I have little interest in letting that happen though. #I have mentioned in the past how victims should never feel forced into silence and this is a part of that. #I listen to the victim. I wait for more information. I form an opinion when I can assess both parties b/c victims deserve to be heard . #I have listened and will continue listening but Wilbur and his own words are enough to paint my own picture. #Unless something major changes this is how me and my blog will be handling it. Thank you. #qsmp #qsmp wilbur #wilbur situation #tw abuse

[queermentaldisaster]

“There's a Revolution Coming”, part three of “The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To”.

First thing's first. If you read this on AO3, please, please, please pay attention to the tags. I will add sufficient warnings for each chapter here as well, but this is very much a Dead Dove fic. What you see is what you get. So please, proceed with caution when you see the tws/tags.

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @axelaxolotl09 @im-here-and-im-confused @bringinsexybackk69 @rainerestored @8-rae-rae-8 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please inform me)

(Possible) tw: Children in captivity, mental breakdown, mentions of torture and mind control, discrimination towards demons, and implied child abuse. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1 under the cut.

The helo landed, and Mirror grabbed Soap's bound wrists and began dragging him towards the military base. Soap's eyes trailed upwards, and his eyes narrowed. With the amount of security around this place, it reminded him of a castle. He looked back down, taking a deep breath. ‘Och, poor Si…he's probably terrified right now and masking it with anger…’ he thought. His thoughts were on Ghost, even as Mirror dragged him through the base. Then, he looked up, and saw just how many demons were here. More than a thousand. The rest must've come from all over the world, then. ‘How many demons did Meister break?’ Soap thought, as his mind drifted back to a conversation Ghost and him had while he was still recovering.

“You know, Meister tortured us to make us weak to mind control.” Ghost murmured. Soap's head snapped up from his sketchbook. “Mind control?” He asked. Ghost nodded. “Affirmative.” He brought his hand up to his neck. “He’d collar us, then attack us. He saw us as nothing more than tools.” Ghost's wings tightened around himself. Soap's eyes softened and he touched Ghost's hand. “Yer so much more than a tool to me, Simon. Yer as alive as the rest of us.” he murmured. Ghost looked back at Soap and his eyes spoke volumes. “Thanks, Johnny.”

A tear rolled down Soap's cheek. God, he hoped Ghost was looking for him. He was scared.

Mirror dragged him into a room, shoving him in and locking the door behind him. Soap fell to the floor, and knelt there, his hands clenched into fists. He let the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, as he tried not to sob. He was in the lion's den and all alone. Too weak to fight against demons and vampires and…whatever Shepard was. God, he'd never wished for anything, not even to be a monster…but now, he was cursing his human heritage. ‘Ah’m useless. Cannae even save maself, much less love Simon how he wants.’ He bit his tongue. ‘Ah’m pathetic. Fought tooth ‘n nail ta get where ah was, and now ah'm here. In an empty room, captured, unable to save maself.’ A sob escaped from the gag, and the dam broke. He curled up, sobbing.

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

He didn't know how long had passed, and he didn't care. He'd managed to get the gag out at some point, and he was now staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-” He was interrupted by the door flying open. Graves was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Do you ever shut up!?” He snapped. Soap sat up, placing his bound wrists on his knees. “Ya ken, Graves, ye have a really bad track record with kidnapping. Twice in two months. Ghost isnae goin’ tae be happy with this.”

Graves's eyes narrowed. “I do not care what that beast thinks. He's nothing more than an animal, a tool to use as we see fit. He doesn't have feelings, he can't.” Soap's eyes narrowed. “...” He lunged at Graves, only to be tackled by one of the other demon guards. Graves's eyes narrowed. “Take him to the little room.” The demon nodded and dragged Soap off as Soap screamed his head off at Graves, in pure rage.

The demon threw Soap in another room, this one with three beds, and paper strewn around the room. He hit the ground roughly, and he let out a groan. He felt hands grab his binds and he almost struck the person…until he looked ahead…and saw a child with pale tannish skin, her right eye being a purple color, her left eye being a pink color, blonde hair, and tiny red horns. “Evelyn! He could be a threat!” came a voice. He turned his head and saw a girl, no older than fourteen, shielding a smaller boy. The girl had light grayish pinkish-purple hair, her right eye being orange and her left eye being a dark grayish magenta color. She had a burn scar by her right eye, and she had horns of a dull gold color that curved like a ram's. Soap looked around, spotting two other kids. His heart sank.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #soapghost #original character #original characters #demons #tw: implied child abuse #tw: mentions of past torture #tw: discrimination #tw: degradation #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 author #dead dove do not eat #cod fic #my fic #call of duty fic #ao3 fanfic #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction

[navysealt4t]

first official day of napowrimo!!! april 1st prompt is: poem that recounts the plot of a novel you haven't read in a while. (warning for themes of war, bombing, & past abuse)

overnight in a bomb shelter

if the world ends this week  please brush my hair  i won’t ask you to be gentle  let me walk barefoot  farther away than the eye can see  in weather cold or warm  i may bite you  sting and curse you  don’t come too close  feed me and bathe me  that’s all i ask   but bombs scream overhead  planes shriek with their engines  sirens blare from the streets  in a murky shelter  buried beneath the mud  of your childhood home  your calloused hands are soft  dropping a blanket ‘round my shoulders  reading a book in the dark  my ears ring and my hands shake  you shield me with your palms  you promise to teach me to sew  to read and write  to run and climb  in moments in the dark  where the world might end  where all i smell is mold  you treat me like a child  who has never known love  i treat you like a woman  who has never known love  and for a moment  the world feels right  as the bombs scream overhead  ‘cause the world might end tonight

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2024 #blue’s writing #poetry #poem #tw war mention #tw bomb mention #tw past abuse #just for tw warnings <3 #the book this is based off is 'the war that saved my life' by kimberly bradley :] #first introduction to found family trope that i like. actually processed was found family #hence the 'child woman' not 'daughter mother' #<333 oh man ada and susan <3 #i love this book sm i needed to write about it #highly rec u read it. rlly good and complex #also ada is disabled and still living her life fuck yeah. god i love ada sm. just like me fr #also yes im posting this 3 am on april 1st. early bird gets the worm or whatever

[nowimhaunted]

i don't know if anyone is awake yet but please keep midnight in your thoughts, i am so worried about her because she hasn't eaten in a few days so i took her to the vet and spend like $400 on tests and fluids and they still can't figure out what's wrong with her :( they gave me something to stimulate her appetite, but she still isn't eating. they told me if she doesn't eat at all today then my options are to take her to emergency or considering putting her down because she turns 17 years old this year and she's diabetic. I want to continue to fight for her, but I literally spent all of my money on her tests yesterday and I have nothing else left to take her to emergency. so my options are to either take out a predatory loan or just check myself into the mental hospital if she dies <3

#i would make a post on here asking for help but i feel deeply guilty about it #its just like whenever she dies i literally will feel like i have zero reason to live anymore i am not kidding #tw animal injury #tw animal death #just bc i mentioned it #she was the only member of my family who was there for me when i was being abused and i am not ready to let her go #in the past 6 months i have spent almost 2k on vet bills for her

[fallenwhumpee]

“I thought you, of all people, would understand why I did what I did.”

Day 27: Reluctant villain | Old friends | Cornered 

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: Prison, beating, implied past abuse, superpower whump, drugging.

The team just stared as Leader was cuffed and dragged to the police car, and Leader stared back. That was what everything came, the public opinion. They were the sinner in the eyes of the citizens, and laws wouldn't save them even though there was nothing to charge them with— It was self-defense. And before, they protected the city. Got to the hearts of the very people chanting them curses.

It would be too easy to crush the crowd. Get out of the cuffs and kick the door of the armoured vehicle. Attack left and right until the anger boiling in their veins calmed down, demanding justice, and calling everyone out on their hypocrisy.

But they knew the target of their anger was not the guards.

They complied as they were pushed to the prison, too, with a blank face and even breaths. They knew that this was their death sentence. Half of the prisoners were in because of them. Personally. They held back their team often to keep the pressure of caging a life and being watched for the smallest mistake with gaining too many enemies at the cost of putting themselves in this situation.

The prison was noisy, and with them getting in, everyone started to shout at them, the curses and insults they would never tolerate in a normal day only a ring in their ears. They weren't going to give an answer. They weren't going to argue.

But they weren't going to be crushed among the criminals either. They could still feel the power in their veins— weak but there. Enough for Leader to cover the strength gap between them and the thugs.

The guards shoved them into the farthest room. Leader stumbled but caught themselves quickly. The cell was simple, with one bunk and nothing else. Someone was sleeping on the top, so they just took the other. They didn't care who the person was as long as they could stay in silence.

This wouldn't be their first time they were cut from mozt of their powers. This wouldn't be the first time they were abandoned for something else or accused of something they didn't do or even punished with brutal force. There was a reason for reformations in the academy. The agency started to think about the new recruits more after that incident. The next generations would have a more suitable training for their age, but with less... experience.

They ignored what their team would think if they had ever known who really Leader was. They knew they had been shaped into a monster, but they were trying. Apparently, also failing. They lost their control when Youngest was in danger, but didn't harm anyone, except one person. Leader couldn't know the enemy under the mask would be—

They turned in bed, laying flat instead of facing to the door. Their instincts screamed them about not doing, but they were in a high security prison. No one was going to open the door, and they would be awake before their cellmate.

But sleep didn't come, with their hands still cuffed and the lights open. Sometimes, time would blur, but nightmares folded into flashes would jolt them awake.

They didn't expect to wake up with a suffocating feeling on their chest. They trashed, the handcuff pressed hard against their ribs, vision covered by a pillow.

With curses in their mind, they felt the dark energy fuel their sleepy body, pushing the pursuer off of them. They rolled out of the bed, gasping as the world spun around them. They felt drained, and they tried to gather strength, failing. After that, they were at the mercy of their instincts and muscles.

They blinked as the figure replaced with Right Hand, begging them to stop, and they're hurting—

That was not real. Just their power and sleep - also oxygen, probably - deprived mind was playing games. Or the side effects of the suppressants. But at least it snapped them back into control.

The unlucky figure stumbled backwards as Leader slammed the cuffs to their chest. But it wasn't enough, and Leader found themselves across the room by their own power.

Imitation.

Leader darted forward, their hands clawing the figure's neck after slamming them to the wall. The struggle beneath their hands were for vain as they started to feed their strength with their power once more.

Their long history of being exposed to suppressants were paying back as tolerance, and the drugs were weakening as the time of the next dose came.

With a hiss, the cell dor opened, and they were shoved out, their body burning as a guardian hit them with an electrocuted baton. Leader cried as they fell to the floor, their muscles aching. They could barely shield themselves with their arms as the guard continued to hit them. The guard didn't stop until Leader screamed, and by that time, Leader could feel deep bruises forming on their arm.

They were thrown into the cell again, alone, twitching on the ground.

"What was that?"

"You don't know? They brought the agency's champion. One must've tried to kill them. Not much of a surprise, but I thought it would wait until morning. Guards dont like eventful night shifts."

Leader groaned, crawling to their bunk. This wasn't going to be a pleasant stay.

-•-

They were waken up with metal hitting metal, voices slurring into each other as curses or chatter filled the corridors. Leader didn't rise from the bed fully, examining themselves first.

Their exposed arms were full of purple bruises with two white spot at the center of each. They knew touching would hurt like hell. That would clearly weaken their defence if things came fighting, and they weren't so hopeful after hearing the prisoners.

Beneath those bruises, scars, and stitch marks were covering most of their skin. They didn't like looking at those, which only reminded them of their failures in various parts of their career and training, and later, their desperate tries to protect their team with their body when their powers failed.

With a deep breath, they rose to their feet. They felt sore, tired. They didn't have the patience to deal if anything happened, but they forced themselves to get out with the guard's shout. They didn't have much choice.

Their power vibrated in their veins, ready and waiting for their command, though distant. They stayed in alert, and while the count and check were mostly calm, they couldn't say the same for breakfast.

Leader kept their head up as they took a tray and found a place to sit. They put their hands to the table, the cuffs touching to its surface. When everyone sat, the cuffs opened, and Leader finally had somethinggoung down from their throat after days.

A thud caused them to jump from their seat to the source. A few prisoners were ganging up on someone on the floor, yet to do anything more than throwing the poor prisoner down from their seat.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Leader shouted. Well, they might have been branded as a cold-blooded monster, but they weren't going to let their ideals be crushed. In such things, all one could cling to was thoughts and ideals. It was more about Leader themselves rather than saving the person.

"What do you think you're doing, rookie?"

Rookie.

Rookie.

That was truly the only thing that could piss them off in mere seconds.

Leader wasn't a rookie.

They smirked, stopping it before turning into a sadistic smile, breathing heavily to keep the monster in themselves leashed. It had taken too long to realise that the monster was never gone or caged. Merely leashed all the time with a thin rope, always trying to snap it and run free.

Was there a better time?

"Giving you a lesson, of course, you scum!"

And everything burst into chaos right after that.

Leader counted thirty of the attackers get a taste of their power before finally going down, their already aching arms starting to throb even if there is nothing meeting with their blocks. It took them a second to realise that the guards were trying to get the fight over.

They stood with a grunt but were immediately kicked down by one of the guards.

"Not getting away with that little stun so easily. You're going to the isolation cells."

With the last word, nearly everything stopped. It couldn't be that bad. Leader could handle some time alone.

"A place I won't worry about being killed in my sleep," they answered casually.

The guard pulled them up, but Leader's pushed them, snarling.

"I can walk myself."

After that, they spat to the cameras.

"Use this to crush my reputation."

-•-

It had taken months to gather the evidence of corruption about some well liked public figures, but Right Hand could finally let out their nervous breath. And even though they went to the courts with that evidence, they didn't expect to get permission to see Leader.

The superhumans were always a controversial topic for the public, and the courts didn't like to go against them. It would only result in more hate than they already had.

They twitched in their seat, feeling uneasy. As a precaution, they were given a shot of the infamous suppressants, and they straightened their back. They felt vulnerable, but they weren't going to jump in the smallest inconvenience.

Forcing themselves to relax, they watched as one of the guards left the small room.

Perhaps one of the reasons they felt so tense was seeing Leader again. Right Hand considered themselves as an old friend of Leader, though they were quite too young to be one. Despite that, they saw no problem in it. They hadn't seen anyone near Leader, so they might have been the oldest friend, but Right Hand didn't like to think about things they didn't know much. All they knew was they could get Leader out now, and they were the only one who was willing to do it.

A guard brought Leader in, and Right Hand... Right Hand never thought they would see Leader like this.

A knot formed on their throat. Leader was worn out, their eyes dull and groggy, their once sharp expression was looking distant. Their posture was slumped, shoulders sunk, and steps slow.

But the smile Right Hand got was the same.

It was not arrogant. Not when Right Hand knew the older one had the power of bringing down with them if they wanted to.

"Leader," their voice trembled, and they forced themselves to breathe.

"Don't look at me like this." Leader looked into their eyes, their smile softening. "They just found out one shot wasn't going to be enough for me. I just thought they would stick with three, but they decided that I was a good test subject. They won't be selling their newest drug soon, if you ask me."

"How can you joke in a situation like this?" They couldn't help their anger, their sudden reaction alerting the guards.

And for the first time, Right Hand saw Leader look hurt for a moment before sighing.

"Why are you here, Right Hand?"

"We found something that might help, and I just wanted you to know before it makes to the news."

Right Hand didn't think the things would go that far. Most would prefer to keep it silent, as the evidence would shake many people from their chair.

They didn't expect a confused "what?"

"I am getting you out of here."

Leader froze in their place for a second and finally realised what Right Hand was talking about. "You wasted our failsafe!"

“I thought you, of all people, would understand why I did what I did.”

Leader breathed sharply. Right Hand didn't want to sound this harsh, but nothing was going in the way it was supposed to without Leader. The best for the team was Leader coming back as soon as possible, and so they used the blackmail materials for the team. And as much as Leader would deny, they didn't look good, too. They had to get out.

"The visit is over," a guard didn't let Leader answer back, and Right Hand took their leave, determined.

#whumptember 2023 #whumptember day 27 #prison whump #beating #mentioned past abuse #superpower whump #tw drugging #leader whumpee #leader whump #whump #whump writing

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 2

Part 1, Ao3

Heavy chapter, please heed the following; Blood tw vivisection tw descriptions of a flashback descriptions of a night terror descriptions of recovery abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way)

Danny took a deep breath and used the Ring of Rage.

A glowing portal formed in the air before him, perfectly stable. Cold, bitter wind blew through it, along with the smell of antiseptic.

Wrinkling his nose, Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.

“Oh, greetings Mr. High King! Are you ready for your check-up?” a nurse Yeti said, looking up from her clipboard enthusiastically.

Danny attempted a smile.

“I’m prepared for it, yeah.”

“Wonderful! Your friends are already in the room for moral support!”

Danny paused.

“Who-?”

“The Lady of the Green and the Lord of Innovation, of course!”

Oh thank the Ancients.

Danny nodded his thanks at the nurse and started for his assigned rooms.

Every inch of the hallways, unfamiliar before the Accident, were ingrained in his memories now.

He’d finally walked from his door to that window without help four months after waking up, and he’d been so fucking proud about it too. He’d hid behind that potted plant during his first flashback. He’d climbed out of that window and crawled on the roof just so he could feel the snow on his skin two months into Physical Therapy.

That was the yeti that had taken the brunt of his anger and hurt on his worst days, nodding at him as Danny passed. That was the room he’d pleaded with Dan to take him away from the hospital, that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he just wanted to go home-that was also the room Dan had set his foot down and said that he’d play the bad guy for Danny one last time.

And oh, how Danny had despised him for it.

But it had worked. Danny, with someone who was there for the sole purpose of taking the verbal assaults meant for his Physical Therapists and himself, who was only there to snipe back and deliberately egg Danny on, helped Danny find the energy to push forward.

And Danny still felt awful about that.

Danny passed the table he had eaten his first solid meal at, one month after waking up, and took a left.

There it was.

The door to the rooms that had been his sanctuary and his prison, right up until they hadn’t been needed anymore. The first place he’d seen when he’d woken up, and then been amazed that he’d woken up at all.

With a deep breath, Danny pushed it open.

“Hey man!”

“Danny!”

Danny’s smile was weak, and he was holding back tears in the face of so many memories he hated and adored in equal measure.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”

~~~~~~

Dan knew he was asleep. Dan knew he was awake. Dan knew he was somewhere in that awful inbetween.

He was in his parents basement. No, wait. They weren’t his parents. They’d never deserved the title.

He was in the Fenton’s basement.

The world kept glitching out, the colors kept melding together, and the only thing that stood out was the overwhelming feeling of disbelief and terror.

Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was-

Stop.

Assess.

What was going on?

Little him was strapped to a table; he was locked in place. He was in his Core form. It was…damaged. It was damaged.

Why?

Who would…?

There was a sliver missing. They’d torn a piece of him off. They’d tried to peel him open. They’d-Little him would be crippled.

If he survived.

But he had survived, hadn’t he?

Little him’s core was strapped to a table, damaged, and there was no resonance coming from it. There were vials upon vials of ecto-blood on the tables.

That was a kidney.

That was a stomach.

There was blood on the floor.

There…there was blood on his shoes.

Dan floated off of it, listening to the dripping sounds it made as it rolled off his soles.

The door opened.

Two monsters walked through, all giant bug eyes and sharp metal knives.

Dan had two options.

He could kill the things that had done this.

Or.

He darted forward to break the straps and shoved Little him’s core next to his own, where it would be safe, where it could recover as it leeched his excess energy off of him.

The world glitched again.

Dan was standing in Jazz’s living room, hand digging into his own chest. Searching.

With a shaking breath, he pulled it out.

He’d only carried Danny’s core next to his own for two years, but he still found himself searching for it in moments of weakness.

He hadn’t been the best Spirit to host Danny’s core, but he’d fought tooth and nail to do it. Vengeance Spirits could not normally house Protective Spirits.

It was why he’d done the whole hero thing after; it would help Little him heal if he did. And when he scared the people he was saving away?

He’d opted to train the little fledgling heroes. He’d make sure they grew up safe, protected from actual villains and, if needed, their own personal ones.

Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see another kid so close to completely shattering into Nothing, he never wanted to see that shit again-

Dan forced himself to move away from the couch and towards the kitchen.

It was pointless to dwell on the past. He did everything he could; if the Twerp wanted to be next to those monsters, that was on him.

So what if he’d fucked up their relationship? At least the kid was alive.

Dan’s hands still shook as he made himself a cup of coffee.

…

Maybe he’d just check in. Just for a bit.

~~~~~~

Dan may have failed steps one through ten.

It had probably started when he’d played surrogate for the Runt, if he was completely honest. There was no way Dan hadn’t absorbed a little bit of his Protective nature.

Point was; Dan genuinely could not remember going to Arkham.

He just sort of…came back to himself while floating ominously above it.

He could see the alarm lights flashing below him. The humans running for their battle-stations.

The inmates being herded deeper into the complex.

Dan felt his eyes grow hotter, felt his claws dig into the flesh of his palms.

They were right there. Right fucking there. All he had to do was phase through the compound and just reach into their chests.

It would be so. Fucking. Easy.

In fact, he even caught a glimpse of Maddie through one of the windows.

Dan snarled, lifting a hand, the ectoplasm pooling in it hotter than anything he’d made before-

-and he was in the kitchen. Mom was trying to make hot dogs, but they kept fighting back. She was laughing at a dumb meme he’d shown her. His homework was covered in mustard from the fight with their food.

“I guess you can tell Mr. Lancer that you ‘mustard’ up every resource you had!” Dad called out as he walked by, and Dan felt so loved-

-Dan dropped the hand.

Maddie was hauled past the window and to safety.

Fuck.

Fuck this place.

Fuck this city.

Fuck everything about this situation.

~~~~~~

Batman grappled his way to the tallest watchtower in Arkham, keeping an eye on Phantom the entire time.

The guard that was already in the tower-a new hire, if he recalled-nervously stepped up to fall in line beside him.

Batman waved him off.

He knew Phantom. He knew that the man wasn’t actually a villain.

A Training Villain wasn’t something Batman had seen younger heroes needing, but when the Ghost in front of him had started play-fighting with the younger heroes to teach them through safe combat, the Bat had been mentally kicking himself.

It was a perfect job to train younger heroes, and Batman couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed the previous iterations by not realizing that.

Robin was still angry that he’d fallen for it, of course he was, but Batman could not deny that Phantom’s strange method of training had been instrumental in helping his youngest work through his rage.

Just like he could not deny that he and Phantom had something in common with Arkham.

It wasn’t hard to assume that the walls held a person responsible for the death of someone in the man’s life.

Phantom had only shown up to Arkham a total of three times.

The first time, he’d just hovered outside of it, holding his hand to his chest. He’d done nothing, and left in an hour.

The second time, two years later, he’d broken two walls and shattered a watchtower, screaming for someone to come out and face him. Robin had been on scene before Batman had time to distract him, convinced it was the same Phantom he was used to dealing with.

Surprisingly, the sight of Robin had been enough to still the beast Phantom had become. He’d toned down, forced Robin into a surprise hug, and then disappeared. Robin had been livid, but Batman had learned something about the Training Villain he didn’t think he wanted to know.

The man knew loss, and Batman was pretty sure he knew it on the same scale Bruce did.

From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out the most likely objects of his wrath.

Phantom was a Ghost. Ghosts had a very, very bad history with the American Government. The Anti-ecto acts had just been revealed to the public by Lois Lane, and the country was tearing itself apart.

The people who had been the most avid supporters had been, currently were, the Dr.s Fenton.

Who were housed in Arkham.

Batman had said nothing. He had gone back to the cave and quietly updated Phantom’s file, and left it at that.

The third time was the present.

Phantom had almost lost his temper. Almost.

But he’d reigned it in.

“Phantom,” Batman started, staring at the figure above him, “I know you can hear me. What’s happened?”

The Ghost stayed where he was for one hundred and twenty seconds, before slowly gliding down to the Bat.

Phantom did not say anything.

He did not have to.

His eyes were anywhere, everywhere, but where he actually was. When he actually was.

Batman quietly hissed through his teeth.

Alright then.

“I’m here if you want to talk, otherwise we can be silent. Just know that at this moment, you are not alone.”

Phantom chose silence for a good seventeen minutes.

Then Phantom opened his mouth.

“I should hate them,” the voice was halting, tired, “I should, I really should. They loved me so much, but they…they tore him apar-“ Phantom’s voice failed him.

Batman said nothing, and gave the Ghost time to collect himself.

While he waited, he compartmentalized what he’d learned. The Fentons had torn apart someone very, very important to Phantom.

And Bruce had an awful feeling that he meant that literally.

“I can’t be here,” Phantom said instead of finishing his previous thought.

Batman nodded.

“You didn’t hurt anyone this time, so go; I see no reason to stop you.”

Phantom didn’t grace Batman with a goodbye, but the Bat swore he felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder after the Ghost vanished from sight.

~~~~~~

Danny laid on the examination bed, one hand being held by Sam while Tucker lounged on the bed at Danny’s feet. They were talking about their new companies, how the world was changing, and distracted Danny while Frostbite examined his vivisection scarring.

Danny looked everywhere but Frostbite as the yeti pushed and prodded. He didn’t want to look at his chest if he didn’t have to, but he also didn’t want the embarrassment that was accidentally meeting his doctor’s eyes in the middle of a physical.

“Fantastic news, Young Savior,” Frostbite said, interrupting their idle chatter, “Your core, while still healing, is recovering at a phenomenal rate. Truly, Lady Gotham is good on her word! At this pace, your core should be fully healed in a mere century!”

Danny hated that. He hated that it needed to heal, and he hated that he was going to outlive his friends.

Sam and Tucker leaned a little closer, offering comfort for something that they knew the Ancient before them wouldn’t understand.

“Better news, the physical damage appears to be almost completely healed. The regrown kidney and stomach are showing no signs of failing, and the scarring should be the only nuisance. I recommend the afore-mentioned stretches and lotion to help the scar tissue conform with your movements.”

Danny nodded, sitting up as Frostbite stepped back and removed his hand from inside Danny’s torso.

“I also see no issue with your residual limb, although it does appear you’ve been forgetting to remove the prosthetic often enough to cause some light bruising. Can’t say I don’t understand, but perhaps write a reminder and pin it on your bedroom wall.”

Danny avoided Sam’s flat look.

Tucker just flashed his phone screen at Danny, the words ‘I can make you something really cool with rockets it you let me’ sprawled across the screen.

Danny absorbed Sam’s flat look and mirrored it towards Tucker.

Tucker threw up his hands.

“Ancients forbid I do anything, I guess,” the techie sighed dramatically.

Once Danny pulled himself together and got ready to leave, Tucker threaded an arm around his own.

“So, wanna go ding-dong-ditch Walker?”

Danny paused, then grinned; and for the first time in two weeks, it wasn’t a lie.

~~~~~~

Danny waved back at Sam and Tucker as they went through their own portals. They would definitely have to get together and hit the town on Earth.

Danny walked through his own portal and ran face-first into a mass of muscle.

Dan steadied him as he bounced back.

Danny was immediately hit with conflicting, very confusing emotions.

He was looking at Dan, his enemy. He was looking at his father? No, it was Dan. Wasn’t that the same-?

Danny shook his head. He’d never gotten a straight answer about why his Ghost self’s view on Dan had changed so dramatically; everyone always shied away from the question.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my apartment?” He asked instead, stepping back and closing the portal.

“Just making sure you’re settling in, Tiny.”

“We’re the same height?”

“Nah, we’re not.”

Danny shoved the absurdity of their interaction in the back of his head and made for his couch.

“Well, whatever you’re doing here, here’s to hoping it involved making dinner,” he groaned, sinking into the cushion and pulling up his left leg to start the tediously cumbersome process of pulling it off, “because per the doctor, I’m supposed to keep the prosthetic off for the rest of today.”

“I was gonna order out. Move, we’re watching Sailor Moon.”

Danny whined pitifully when Dan physically picked him up and moved him to the side.

He fought his instincts, and his instincts won.

He leaned back and allowed Dan to take the prosthetic off, clawed fingers delicate for all that the man snarled under his breath.

He also allowed the man to commandeer the TV; not something he would even allow Jazz to do.

“Why do I let you do these things?” Danny muttered, eyeballing the quasi-villain on his couch as said villain massaged the stump just below his knee.

Dan snorted.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Ugh, no one tells me anything.”

“We’re pacing you,” Dan corrected, blunt for all that the words were careful, “when you’re back on your feet, you’ll get the non-vital details we skimmed.”

Danny didn’t bother arguing; he’d already tried for the better part of the previous year. For some reason, the yetis took Dan’s side, too.

Instead, they fell into a companionable silence, appreciating Sailor Moon. Which was fine by Danny, since he never knew how to behave around Dan. It was only interrupted by the delivery of the Greek food Dan had ordered out.

Danny was on his second Gyro when Dan finally broke the silence.

“So I heard there was a rogue attack outside your apartment,” he said idly, and Danny could feel his eyes on him.

“Yeah.”

“So you got to see the Bats in action?”

“…Yeah.”

Dan leaned in, eyes going critical.

“What needs improvement? Don’t lie; that ‘yeah’ was one that means you weren’t impressed.”

Danny shrugged.

“I dunno, just…they didn’t have someone who’s only job it was was to evacuate the people, or help the injured. It was just offense, no defense.”

Dan snorted and leaned away.

“Kept telling that to Robin, but no; ‘Father this’ and ‘Father that’.” Dan shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on his rack of lamb. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”

Danny blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve seen what they need, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of the game forever. What are you gonna do about it?”

Danny looked down at his Gyro, frowning.

What was he gonna do about it?

He couldn’t fight, not like he used to, not really. But if the Bats were tanking, then…he probably wouldn’t really have to.

“I’ve been in medical facilities for almost a year,” Danny said slowly, ignoring how Dan stiffened next to him, “I think I’ve picked up a few things. Frostbite would probably be thrilled if I asked him to teach me, honestly.”

Dan relaxed, humming thoughtfully around the bone he was chewing on.

“I think…I’ll be a medic.”

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix I do not suffer PTSD, and I've never had a life-altering injury. That said, I know people who have, for both of those. I apologize if my descriptions are off. Here's some notes to piece together what this chapter outlines, for those that want the sparknotes as to what Dan is alluding to. From my notes; "Ghosts can carry another ghosts core if that core is injured, to protect and promote healing. Typically, the father or mother figure does it. In this particular instance, Dan did it. We will see in a bit, but for Dan their relationship went from enemies-warden-person I gotta apologize to-person I’ve got to save-the core housed next to mine-son. For Danny, it randomly went from enemies to ‘why do I think dan is my dad more than I think my dad is my dad’." This is where the "forced parenthood" tw comes into play, because Dan felt like he had to do it, and due to instinct Danny subconsciously got dragged along for the ride. Also, if it wasn't clear from the age list on the first chapter and the timeline presented, I'm playing around with Lian and Roy's timeline; Dan's first year he babysat her, and then she died. She came back only four weeks prior to Danny re-entering the human world.

#in the shadow of speculation #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #blood tw #vivisection tw #flashback tw #night terror tw #descriptions of recovery #physical therapy mention #self hatred tw #abled verbiage tw #forced parenthood tw #healing through helping others #past abuse #past torture

[hargrove-mayfields]

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

for Day 7 of MungroveWeek @mungroveweek

rating: teen

prompts: Big Spoon/Little Spoon, Touched after being touch-starved, Bruised skin, First kiss, Dungeons and Dragons.

content warnings: Referenced child abuse and abandonment, past relationship abuse, and mental health struggles.

————

Billy is the kind of guy that sees sex as the endgame in a relationship.

All the flirting and the posturing and the touchy-ness, it’s all just the build up until whoever is on the other end can get him in their bed, and then it’s over.

Not that he’s scared of commitment, that’s all that he could really want is some damn stability for once in his life, but he’s scared of what comes next. After they get that first time under the covers with him, they only want more and more from there. They just want to keep taking and taking and taking from him, until they’re demanding those three little words he hasn’t been able to utter in forever, and he can’t bear it.

Love just isn’t something Billy Hargrove is good at. That’s what he’s decided anyhow. It scares him and makes him think too much. But when he holds hands with a girl and feels that swell of pride in his chest, he wonders how much more intense that feeling would be like if there was a ring on her finger. When he kisses a boy and feels warmth all over, he wants that vulnerability to be a feeling he wakes up to every morning. So, maybe he’s just too messy to settle.

But the future isn’t something he has the luxury of looking forward to when he’s always stuck in the past.

So when Eddie Munson comes along in the harshest winter of his life, Billy gets attached real quick.

They don’t even have to touch for the butterflies to start twisting him up on the inside. Just that snarky laugh is enough to have him blushing like some goofy cartoon character. Eddie’s sort of like that, all animated and full of life.

Mostly in that Billy can’t believe he’s real.

That somehow he’s fallen in love all over again with some dork who brings him pretty leaves he found in the woods and who steals Billy’s pencils and returns them with ink all over them and who knows prose and lyrical shit from his musical endeavors but can’t pronounce Hargrove without a tiny bit of his uncle’s southern drawl slipping into his accent.

Everything about him is endearing, except maybe how he leaves crumbs in Billy’s car and doesn’t brush his hair more than once every three months, but that’s just part of his charm, as Eddie easily convinces him.

Especially since the first time he’s in Eddie’s bed, it isn’t for sex.

Before he could even get his hopes or his fears reared up, he’d been beaten back down, literally, and the only place he had to go was Eddie’s.

Eddie, who didn’t care that Neil Hargrove called him a fag and a bad influence as he hit his child just for knowing him. Eddie, who wrapped his lanky arms around Billy’s bruised up body and told him a story about a raccoon he saw from the window they’re both looking out of. Though Billy’s vision is blurred with tears, he’s just happy to be settled back to chest with his crush, held and cared for for the first time in hell, probably his eighteen years.

There’s no sex appeal to showing up snotty and bloody on Eddie’s stoop, just like there’s no ulterior motive to helping him.

It’s more like…

“Oh hey, the shaking stopped! That’s a sign, that’s a sign.” Eddie trying to break the silence is what it’s like. But Billy isn’t ready. His thoughts are racing too fast for his own good.

Nervousness clamps his stomach like a vice and makes him feel sick. So it’s back to Eddie to keep it from becoming too real, “Want me to give you some space?”

Somehow, that seems worse. Right now, Billy’s comfortable, safe. Take Eddie away, and he loses that glimpse at security. He hopes he doesn’t sound as distraught as he feels when he gives his brief answer to the air, “No.”

Audible panic or not, Eddie stays, well, Eddie. All nonchalant, like he’s done this a thousand and one times before. Billy hopes, despite himself, that that isn’t the case. Selfish maybe, but he’d really like this sort of care all to himself.

“Cool. I might fall asleep back here though. I can’t wiggle.”

Oh. Maybe he’d gotten his hopes up.

Billy acts to apologize, not only saying, “Sorry,” but also peeling away from Eddie's big spoon, about to slip out of the bed when those skinny arms flex and are able to use whatever they can muster to get Billy to stay. Call it desperation, judging from the speed and the airiness in Eddie’s voice once he pleads with him.

“No, it’s good. Wiggling is bad. It keeps me up all night and then I pass out in the middle of English class. Again. And when I conk off in English class I fail, and then I’ll stay up all night for the rest of my life thinking about being a loser. A never ending cycle.”

At least Billy isn’t the only one that feels like he isn’t enough. Not that it would’ve taken that to convince him, but he decides to breathe out his tension, and let Eddie bring their position back to the center of the mattress. The way he talks, so honestly and smoothly, it’s no wonder Billy’s chest feels like it could explode from how his heart pounds against his ribs.

To distract from the obvious, he decides to leave the moping and join in on the higher energy, to tease Eddie, pull his puffy pigtails a bit, “Now you’re gonna put me to sleep.”

“That’s a first. I'm usually annoying everyone clear into like, outer space levels of awake.” Eddie retorts, but there’s way too much emotion in it to just be a reciprocal joke.

Billy tries, in an overly casual way, to help, since Eddie is doing so much for him right now. The least he can do is let him vent back, and maybe offer a little comfort, “Nah. More like white noise to me.”

It lands. He can almost hear Eddies smile turn back on like the flick of a light switch, though he can’t see his face with the way Eddie is cuddling him like a child with his favorite teddy bear.

“That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever told me they’re ignoring me. And I mean that.” The actual words there are just light hearted and jokey, but his tone sells something a lot sweeter. Something that restarts Billy’s heart all over again, especially when the context catches up in Eddie’s next soft response, “You’re different, Billy.”

His instinct is to reject that comment, obviously said with warm intent, “Yeah. What other queer would show up and ask for fucking cuddles from a dude?”

But Eddie doesn’t flinch for even a second. Actually, he stuns Billy yet again with an even sappier comeback, “I dunno, I would probably. Especially from you. ‘Cause I like you so much.”

“You don’t gotta lie to me.” Billy’s voice quivers slightly. He can’t tell if he’s shaking in Eddie’s arms, but he feels like he should be.

Eddie Munson said he fucking likes him. While he’s in his bed. Honestly Billy should be used to that, but maybe it’s the outcome he knows is coming that makes him feel so anxious. He can’t stand to have to let go already.

That or it’s the never ending ease with which Eddie talks to him, like he’s this suave prince charming even though he’s seen the guy eat off of the cafeteria floor. That gentleness sends ripples of warmth down his spine from where Eddie’s breath puffs by his ear, “Who’s lying? Are you lying?”

Somehow that inspires Billy to be honest. As if that will change the outcome he has yet to avoid. He hopes, and he says, “Kind of. To myself.”

“So what’s the truth?” Eddie asks, even though, deep down, Billy was hoping he wouldn’t.

Because then he has to admit.. “That I like you back.”

A beat. Then Eddie squeezes him a tiny bit tighter, and says, like it’s the most casual thing, “Cool.”

Billy’s reaction of disbelief is visceral, a snorted, breathless laugh accompanied by a brief questioning, “That’s it? Just.. cool?”

Eddie’s arms move in what feels like a shrugging motion. Billy should have known he just said that and hadn’t meant it, should have the routine memorized enough by now to realize that he wouldn’t like him in that way.

Besides, Eddie has ICD. He doesn’t have control over his impulses the way most people do. It was stupid to assign meaning to the words that tumbled out of his friend's mouth just because he was being selfish. Or he was just hopeful that this time, the other person would care about him too.

Behind him, Eddie makes a sound like he’s thinking long and hard about it, before announcing, one hundred percent genuine, “Actually, no. I also meant to say- Yay!”

That’s all Billy can take. He just doesn’t get it. He wants to believe that Eddie isn’t just fucking with him, but his heart has been used too many times before. Seeking answers, and comfort, and a real love connection, Billy wiggles out of Eddie’s cuddles just to turn around and face him with questions in his eyes.

The happy little grin on Eddie’s face drops off when he sees that look in Billy’s.

Suddenly he’s so serious, and that almost hurts worse than any kind of rejection or loss, “Oh. Did I mess something up?”

Billy shakes his head to tell him that, no, Eddie hasn’t done a damn thing wrong. It’s his own stupid self that did this. But he does consider, for a moment, that the confession was authentic. He runs with it, can’t let go of that hope.

Still, he doesn’t understand why Eddie didn’t seem to want to take things a few bases ahead like everyone before him had, if he wasn’t lying about having feelings for Billy. “

You.. don’t want anything else?”

“Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t climb out the window when I said I liked you.” As he speaks, Eddie smiles again, like he can’t keep the happiness away. He's always so lighthearted and genuine about everything.

Billy envies him. And loves him with so much of his heart, he can’t bring himself to speak for a moment.

Since he stays silent, letting his feelings play out through his expressions instead, Eddie offers a suggestion, emphasizing it with a gently placed hand to Billy’s cheek, “Let’s just take this at your pace. No expectations.”

“Kiss me?” Billy wills himself to ask, sacrificing his comfort in the silence to prepare for disappointment.

But Eddie provides something much more fulfilling, “Sounds easy enough.”

And he stays true to his word too.

Adjusting to once again close the tiny bit of space Billy had made between them when he turned to face this way, Eddie kisses him. It’s just a calm thing, the press of warm, slightly chapped lips together. The hand on Billy’s face cupping his jaw now instead, to make the gesture as strong and sturdy as the feelings behind it.

It doesn’t last long enough before Eddie dips away, so Billy decides to initiate another one. He misses the mark slightly in his overeagerness to reconnect, but Eddie either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, not even when that corner of his mouth ticks up into a smile beneath his kiss.

Billy decides then and there that he’s going to take more chances, if this was going to be the reward.

~~~~~

“Are you positive you want to stay?”

Billy has all but moved into the trailer at this point, spending long nights and weekends on Eddie's couch or in his bed, wherever he falls asleep. Right now, it was the couch, with the hand crocheted blanket from Eddie’s late aunt Roxie around his shoulders, and his hair all tousled about from sleeping on it. He passed out hard last night, coming here straight after another argument with Neil that hadn’t ended well.

Eddie eventually had to wake him up, only to inform him that a group of his friends would be over this weekend to play some campaign they’d agreed on weeks ago and Eddie had forgotten until the Henderson kid called him that morning to say that Maddie would be filling for Gareth, since he couldn’t make it and apparently decided to tell Henderson first.

All of that was over Billy’s head, half of the names Eddie is rambling off to him barely recognizable when all is said and done, maybe more from his memory getting fucky again than anything else. There’s lots of reasons for why his head gets foggy, but his doctor wasn’t sure if they could blame it on being knocked around too many times or a little something called constant chronic pain.

Either way he was being dragged to Hawkins before any such diagnosis was official.

And here he is now, comfortable as fuck on Eddie’s old worn-in couch, wearing his flannel because it’s he only thing his boyfriend owns that isn’t several sizes too small for his shoulders, and using his family heirloom blankets.

He’s here to stay.

“I’m not goin’ home, so.. why not?”

Eddie still looks skeptical, and voices as much in a doubtful tone, “Okay, but, this is your final warning. It can get really intense. Like, really really.”

Somehow Billy gets the feeling this wouldn’t be the first time someone told Eddie his interests were too much. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the way he’s looking out for him, but Billy doesn’t want to be the one to crush his boyfriend's spirit.

So he makes a light joke of it, “It’s a board game, Eds. And I’m sorry, but you thought Jaws 3-D was a masterpiece. I’m not sure your definition of intense and mine are the same”

Special interest mode, activated.

“It is! It perfectly parallels how humans think poetic justice is only valid if they personally can identify with the hero! That’s all it takes to be defined as a hero or a villain!! That kicks ass!” Eddie rants passionately for the hundredth time, though the pointed laugh before he starts speaking is Billy’s sign that it’s all in fun.

So he keeps it going, “Eddie. As your boyfriend I feel obligated to tell you this, but whatever commentary a movie about a revenge driven, computer generator shark has to offer, it probably wasn’t intentional.”

“It’s not meant to be realistic. Metaphors, baby!” Eddie defends, the actual depth of this conversation many times gone over already. This is just a summary of it for a little joke, though they could be here for hours if they wanted to.

Which means it’s Billy’s turn to infodump, all those years spent researching the ocean in the library and local California museums not gone to waste yet.

“But sharks don’t even raise their young! Real world or not! Revenge doesn’t matter to the creatures that don’t even stay a day after their shark babies are born to abandon them. I mean, they could at least wait ten years like my ma-”

Stop. Oops.

That wasn’t exactly what he was supposed to say. Or even what he meant to.

He’s always defended his mommas decisions to leave him behind. Something about Neil constantly reminding him how difficult he was as a kid probably did some numbers on his ability to process the whole thing. But sometimes, his heart reveals some sadder truths in this process of healing it.

Eddie's love wraps around his bones like an extra layer of support, seeping out all the bad. Sometimes he’s got to expel those thoughts whether or not he realizes it until they come pouring out of his mouth.

And then he feels sad.

Because he’s thinking about his momma.

Eddie moves quickly into caring mode, holding his arms out to invite Billy for a cuddle. The whole boundaries thing is still a pretty big deal, even though it’s been weeks, proving Eddie meant it when he said they didn’t have to rush this. Hell, Billy thinks Eddie might never stop asking for his consent for even just cheek kisses, in the silent language the two of them are slowly developing.

There’s trust there that Billy isn’t used to. Throwing himself blindly into love and hoping to be caught hadn’t worked, and neither had acting cold. Then Eddie had shown him other options, and there was no going back.

Billy leans into his hug, pushing just a little so Eddie lays back against the armrest with his arms still around Billy, pulling them together into the perfectly nested out, cozy spot where Billy slept last night.

Even though they slept only feet away from each other, he had missed Eddie. He missed waking up from a nightmare and kissing him, the warmth and the pressure of his limbs scattered all over the bed and over Billy, and even the sound of his not so gentle snoring. He’s become the routine, the only constant in Billy’s life that he’s desperate never to let go of.

Still, Eddie is the one to change the conversation, so the effort, and the intention of their love, must be equal, “Agree to disagree?”

“Sure.” Billy gives him that, too comfortable to argue about stupid things or bring up more trauma. He hadn’t meant to and now he feels a little drained. Nothing a little early morning spoon session can’t fix.

That’s why he has the confidence to push the boundary again, just enough comfort flowing through their connected energies now that he isn’t afraid of making Eddie upset, “Still coming to dnd tonight though.”

~~~~~

“What bet did you lose?”

There’s six people, all wearing matching shirts, all accessorized in various articles of plaid and leather and whatever else they think makes them look like Eddie. Serious respect to the one who actually asked the question, he’s guessing Maddie from the previous conversation, who wears her shirt like a cutoff and actually has her own taste.

That proves Eddie right though. Billy had walked out of the bedroom for all of two seconds before he’s being glared at and asked stupid questions.

He just hadn’t realized the implications of Eddie’s friends being the overwhelming part, rather than the game. The confusing, twisting, hell of a game he’s too afraid to even attempt.

“Excuse me?”

Even being used to fighting and drama, Billy just isn’t really sure how to respond to that. He knows what Eddie’s friend means, but at the same time, he doesn’t. As far as he knew, everyone in town had heard about Billy Hargrove’s fall from grace after a few nights ago when Neil went on a bender looking for his runaway son and telling anyone who asked exactly what he thought of his kid. And for punching said kid in the face again, which is why Billy had come here to begin with.

But maybe the lowest of the Hawkins High hierarchy doesn’t fill up on the products of the rumor mill as quickly as he’s used to from his spot near the top.

One of the other nameless ones chimes in next, even more sarcastic and cold than the girl, “What ungodly punishment are you subjecting yourself to by being here?”

Billy just doesn’t understand what he did. His most notorious moments in school were still mostly aimed at whichever groupies tried to get too close to him. The best he can come up with is that these nerds were all jealous of him living with Eddie now, but, no offense to the love of his life, that doesn’t seem very likely.

Thankfully, Eddie takes the heat and changes the subject before Billy is forced to figure out what kind of response is needed from that level of passive-aggressiveness.

He steps right in the center of the room and claps his hands a few times, both to get everyone’s attention and to put accentuation on his demands, “Hey. Shoes off in my house, dorkuses. Or need I remind you of the last time?”

That sounds like there’s a story there just waiting to be told, and considering Billy would rather hear that than keep being questioned, he takes the obvious bait, “What happened last time?”

“Why, dear Jeffrey over there tracked in some dog shit surprise. Had to cut a square out of the carpet because it-“ Eddie starts to explain, but before he gets too graphic with it, Billy interrupts.

“I got it, Eds. Don’t need all the details.”

The obvious disgust on his face is probably what makes Eddie giggle like a self-satisfied little kid, before he says, “Suit yourself. Just be lucky you met me after. Took months to get the stink out.”

Dustin, the only one of the freshmen trio that still shows up to these things often enough to be considered an official member, is of course the one to interrupt the flow between Billy and Eddie, just because the smug little bastard would be, “Funny. I thought you still smelled like dog shit.”

Billy’s got to give it to the kid, if that wasn’t a snide comment about his boyfriend, he’d absolutely be laughing right now. And okay, maybe he can’t suppress just the tiniest chuckle, which of course gets noticed in an instant by Eddie.

Which is enough to make him spring into action against the insult, literal physical action because he puts Dustin in a headlock and ruffles the shit out of the kids hair after knocking his hat off.

Seeing that the tension has been successfully defused, Billy decides he’s no longer needed. That and, even though he’s grateful Eddie cooled the situation off, he’s not really looking to have to defend himself constantly.

Over the ruckus of the play-fighting teenagers and the crowd of their friends chanting for who they’re placing soda-pop bets on, Billy announces, “I’ll order a pizza and fuck off again.”

Instantly Eddie freezes, his hair half-way in his eyes and his shirt wrinkled like Billy hadn’t carefully hung it on the line this morning from all the commotion, “You know you don’t have to do that.”

Billy isn’t sure if he’s talking about the pizza or the leaving, but he’s down for both. He’ll make an appearance again when it’s time to eat. Slow integration with all this noise and personality will probably be the best for him anyways.

He challenges Eddie’s question so he doesn’t have to worry, “Who else is going to?”

Eddie doesn’t do phone calls. It’s one thing to be loud and energetic in person, but put a speaker up to him and it’s like he has no clue what to say. Maybe it’s his wired different brain, but something about not being able to stare people in the face makes it a hell of a lot harder to get his point across.

So yeah, Billy’s got him beat there. Whatever Eddie’s problem is though, times it by twenty for the amount of anxiety sitting around this place at this very moment. This is the best decision and Billy would’ve stood by it even if Eddie said anything else. But he doesn’t.

So Billy puts his hand in the shape of a phone and shakes it, wanting to go kiss Eddie before he leaves the room but restraining the urge in front of all these people that probably wouldn’t get it, “Just call for me when Aggy gets here with the pizzas.”

~~~~

Later when everything’s said and done, they’re back to where they started.

Eddie is flat on his back, lanky limbs spread out like a starfish, while Billy curls up into his side, more like a koala. There’s a quilt over their tangle of bodies, but the slightly awkward yet somehow very comfortable position means they’re barely covered by it, though that’s fine anyways because Billy runs hot.

In his own little self-sustained furnace at his boyfriend's side, Billy’s also about to fall asleep, even just listening to Eddie’s extroverted self socialize all day having made him tired. His eyes snap open when Eddie asks him a question.

“Was today okay?”

The startle the abrupt cut in the silence gave him also earns him an apology kiss on the forehead from Eddie.

He’s okay though, because it reminds him that he wanted to put his head on Eddie’s chest, readjusting to get closer and comfier. His response is a sleepy after thought, a soft little hum of agreement, “Mhm.”

Eddie takes the opportunity to put his fingers in Billy’s hair and gently play with it, as he talks up at the ceiling, “I'm glad. Because I didn’t want to have to cut all of those dudes out of my life.”

“Like you’d choose me over all of them.” Billy murmurs, though he’s actually flattered that Eddie has even chosen him at all, no matter the order of importance.

And it only gets better when Eddie says..“I would. A thousand times over, I would. I love you, man.”

Because he says it so easily, like it isn’t a big deal.

Like it’s just a normal thing. Which it is. Billy can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel the same, but they haven’t said it out loud yet. He didn’t think they ever would, a fact he’d been okay with since the first time he realized he liked dudes and girls.

“Love.. me..?”

Eddie flushes red in an instant, all the way down under the collar of his shirt to where Billy’s head is resting, and he quickly tries to correct it like the questioning means he did something wrong, “Sorry. I promised to pace myself. I’ll take it back and lock it back up in my heart until you’re ready.”

Now Billy is just glad he already loves Eddie back, because that sickly sweet proclamation would have done him in otherwise. To ease the worry in his lover's pounding heart, he makes sure to let him know.

“No. S’okay. I love you too.”

So maybe Billy isn’t as bad at being in love as he thought.

He was once someone who thought all he mattered for was sex, a few moments of distraction for somebody who would forget him anyways. Over time, he’s been proven wrong

Billy Hargrove can be loved. It just took the right person- his match in love, the other half to his soul he found in Eddie- to show him that.

#mungroveweek2023 #mungrove #eddie x billy #tw neil hargrove #tw child abuse mention #tw past relationship trauma #tw relationship abuse #autistic eddie munson #autistic billy hargrove #eddie munson has icd #billy hargrove has ocd and bpd #bisexual billy hargrove #my moodboards #my writing #ej writer

[lunar-years]

thoughts on jamie’s relationship with alcohol growing up and then in adulthood? do you think tartt sr. forced him to drink?

I mean James was forcing him to go have sex, so yeah, i think forcing (" "intensely pressuring" ") Jamie to drink was absolutely a thing :( honestly if James Sr. didn't come into jamie's life until he was around ~12/13ish, I can absolutely imagine him deciding that taking his son out to the pubs would be a great way to "bond." pre-teen/young teen jamie being taunted and goaded into getting drunk for the first time by his dad and his dad mates is a sad scene that definitely lives somewhere in my brain. Jamie wouldn't really know how much is too much and then his dad would keep encouraging him to "keep up" with them by ordering him more rounds. Idk. it all makes me very sad.

In terms of how that affected Jamie's relationship with alcohol, I think when he was a teen he would've dealt with it like he deals with a lot of his abuse - writing it off as "not a big deal" and compartmentalizing the experience in his head. So when all his mates started drinking together, etc., I can definitely imagine Jamie bragging a bit like "Oh this is nothing," downing drinks to show off, that sort of thing. He cools that sort of behavior off quick though because he dislikes being that level of drunk.

As an adult, I think he leans pretty heavily on the "my body is a temple" elite footballer mentality as his reason for not drinking much. It partly is that and partly because again, he dislikes being truly drunk. But i imagine him as mostly a social drinker who enjoys occasionally getting tipsy but mostly keeps himself to a two drink maximum. that's why Roy regulating his drinking and occasionally granting him permission to have a single beer is so fun for him, lol.

#so i guess what im saying is i think he has a pretty healthy relationship to alcohol in adulthood #kind of like he has a pretty healthy relationship to sex #but it's also definitely been a James Sr. Thing in past #jamie tartt #ted lasso #asks #james tartt sr #tw abuse #csa mention

[firedragon1321]

It's Kieran hours again. Today I wanted to ramble about him, and also Carmine being an asshole. Spoilers for Teal Mask and possible spoilers for Indigo Disk (based on leaks) below.

So it's already obvious that Carmine's mistreatment of Kieran plays into his insecurity at the start of the game. The player is also at fault (hiding the truth about Ogerpon from him, spending time with only Carmine, and turning the other cheek to his mistreatment, amongst other things). Note when I refer to "the player" here, I mean the in-game avatar, not the actual human player. Others have agreed that we needed the choice to avoid hurting Kieran's feelings.

As an extension of that, we also needed the choice to confront Carmine. I know we couldn't because Teal Mask leads directly into Indigo Disk, and Pokemon games are linear by nature. But as a grown-ass adult who recognized the toxic dynamic between the siblings, I wanted to take Kieran and hide on Oni Mountain.

And it was all little things adding up to one oppressive hammer of discouragement. Constantly brushing him off, treating him as unimportant, etc. This behavior of Carmine's isn't exclusive to Kieran- the player is treated like shit until they earn her respect. But the player is from out of town. Kieran had to deal with this behavior for his entire life.

Carmine isn't evil like Lusamine (debatable due to Nihilego poison) or Ghetsis (I will get to these two in the readmore). But her behavior is still unacceptable. It's what made Kieran feel so small to begin with.

When he's finally given a chance at friendship and kindness, Carmine snatches the player, too (from his perspective). When he has a chance to catch Ogerpon, the player does instead, and he has to watch. At this point, the player is on Carmine's "side", and an extension of her lifelong psychological control over her brother.

There are rumors/leaks that a Pokemon may be controlling Kieran to a degree- similar to Lusamine- as the situation worsens. But even without this behind the scenes action, Kieran's behavior is understandable. He had two chances at friendship, snatched away by the girl who thinks he amounts to nothing and the apparent lapdog at her side.

So why bother with friendship at all? Why not become stronger and stronger, and bowl down everything in your way? It worked for the people who hurt you...

I want to veer off into other games with similar plot beats as a point of comparison. I put it under a readmore for people who don't care and for length. I'll probably add a reblog after Indigo Disk to conclude this ramble.

While Sun/Moon did a great job at portraying abuse, it didn't do a great job at resolving it. Lillie forgives Lusamine, Gladion is left to flounder, and Lusamine is resolved of increasing amounts of blame with each adaption. USUM and the anime make this issue progressively worse, with the anime barely addressing Lusamine's true nature, save one episode where it's treated as her "caring too much". I made an entire post about Gladion because this issue pisses me off. While Lillie's forgiveness of Lusamine makes sense for her character, it shouldn't be required of Gladion, Guzma, or any of her other pawns.

In Black and White, Ghetsis is not only called out on his shitty behavior, but N isn't obligated to forgive him. This remains true in all adaptations. Once Ghetsis drops the act, the game is bold enough to call it "abuse" without using the actual word. It understands that what happened to N is disgusting and horrible. In many adaptations- like Pokemon Generations- N is able to confront him- and by extension, his feelings- directly.

I also feel like Kieran is Wally if Wally wasn't a pushover. The player crushes his dreams of battling in a gym at his uncle's command. While his health is a concern, there is literally no reason he can't battle the gym. He only has Ralts and will likely lose. But he's prevented from even trying- by the person he considers a friend, no less. Wally doesn't show up again until near the endgame...where the player crushes his dreams again.

Wally takes it all with a smile. Kieran doesn't.

For Kieran specifically, I feel like they'll go the Sun/Moon route over the Black/White route. Which concerns me. If Kieran apologizes to Carmine even if he did something bad in Indigo Disk- I will throw up. He doesn't have to forgive her, or even the player.

#pokemon #tw abuse #tw parental abuse #tw neglect #all from the actual games #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon black and white #teal mask #indigo disk #leak mention #spoilers #kieran #pokemon ruby and sapphire #character analysis #I'm still unwell over this anyway #parental abuse tag is for mentions of past games #kieran pain tag

[atesomerocks]

so uh yeah. as someone who was a fan of wilbur soot for many, many years and has been continuing to follow his music career, i cant say that i am not absolutely fucking appalled and disgusted with whats come to light. genuinely i now just wish i had known what kind of person this was before i ever showed any support for them, and i can assure anyone wondering that any shred of respect i once might have held for the man is completely evaporated.

support shelby and the victims.

#i ask that none of my past support of him/fanart of him be reblogged or generally used #the fact ive taken the time to draw and create things inspired by someone who would do that makes me sick. #tw mentions of abuse #tw wilbur soot #serious post #txt #not art #do not rb #also ill be going thru and trying to private as many of my works related to him as i possibly can

[wayward-sherlock]

alexa play thumbs by lucy dacus (wip from one of my @bylerween2023 fics!)

@willelmikes >:)

#hehehehhe >:) #tw corpse #tw death #tw blood #tw mentions of past child abuse #byler #wayli writes #stranger things #bylerween2023 #🎃 #🫧🪴 #💛💙 #wip wednesday #miwip wednesday

[our-death-means-flag]

idk if you take requests but izzy hands x male!reader who has cptsd. they aren’t dating yet and absolutely fucking hate each other. always at each others throats. one day, ed and stede decide to dock the ship at a certain place, presumably near australia to have drinks with some of eds old buds. as everyone’s moving to get off of the ship & enjoy the land, reader fucking freezes. no one really notices, thinking it to just be him taking in the good view of the town, but he’s having flashbacks. the town they were in was his hometown & he did not come from a good family— I’ll leave it at that. Izzy’s the last one to move off, having been securing some shit at the front & starts to chastise him for being so fuckin slow. he just says something rude as fuck about him just standing there & reader jumps up, clearly startled and tells him to fuck the hell off. izzys surprised at this because for some reason it just felt different— like he had crossed some type of invisible line. reader reluctantly walks to land, hands shaking. Izzy’s just concerned because he’s sort of like what the fuck why don’t they have their dagger against my fucking neck right now. eventually they all go on some type of nature hike, stede’s request, having lived on land majority of his adult life and wanting to explore the newfound territory with Ed. while there the crew (mostly Lucius) is confused as to why reader hasn’t said anything funny or snarky yet. usually he would be the one to make them laugh at shit, if not frenchie or just the ships usual antics. something was just off. the way y/ns eyes glazed over when he saw something vaguely familiar, the ever-so-slight tremble in his left hand. later, lucius says some shit like “are you alright?” And iz just fucking I don’t even know. he corners the reader and sort of passive aggressively orders him to tell him what the fucks going on. cue reader really really really hesitantly opening up after saying some snarky shit in resp to him. maybe it leads to them confessing to each other? or getting really drunk? or cuddling? maybe all three.

Will I Ever Get Out of This Town?

Ship: Izzy Hands x masc!Reader Summary: A visit to a familiar port brings back horrible memories for Y/N but an unexpected person tries to help. Notes: Per request, masc!reader!  I’m no expert on these topics and my personal experience is kinda lacking but I did my level best to write everything as respectfully as possible. Title from Walking Around a Sh*tty Old Town At Midnight by TheEggoMan (I might start using lyrics or quotes for all fic titles since i’m really bad at coming up with names Warnings: y/n being mean to himself, mentions of past abuse (physical and verbal), cptsd, panic attacks, vague traumatic flashbacks, Izzy being Izzy (he’s trying to help but he’s not great at it), drinking

It hadn’t changed a bit.

You stood on the deck, white knuckle gripping the railing, looking out onto the horribly familiar port town.

Your hometown hadn’t changed a bit.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting. 

Well aside from never coming back here. The day you’d left this place behind was the day you’d promised yourself that you’d never come back. And yet, here you were. 

It was pathetic. You were a goddamn adult. It had been years since you’d been here. So why was being here still fucking with you? The rational side of you remembered some of the stuff you’d heard about long lasting trauma but the much less rational and much much louder side of you, kept reminding you that you were still the same terrified kid you’d been all those years ago. That you hadn’t grown or changed at all.

You tightened your grip on the rails. You could distantly hear the chatter of the crew as they all set out on the “nature walk” Stede had insisted on. But your mind was elsewhere. Even as you tried to cling to the present your mind dragged you back into the past. 

Raised voices.

Bruises.

Things breaking.

You breaking.

Being trapped in a life that made the idea of working yourself to death on a pirate ship seem like an improvement.

It all came back. Everything you’d tried not to think about.

You hadn’t even noticed someone approaching until a hand grabbed your shoulder. The instincts you’d managed to train over years of piracy vanished and rather than snapping the offending wrist or pulling your knife, you cowered away, spinning so fast you were almost dizzy and all but slamming your back into the railing, arms desperately pulled up to protect yourself even though you knew full well that it wouldn’t do much.

Chest heaving from exertion your mind finally registered what was actually going on in the present. Izzy fucking Hands, crown prince of asshole himself,was right there looking at you with a confused expression, if he’d said anything you hadn’t heard it. Usually you’d push, make some snarky comments about him or whatever he’d been asking you to do. But you were still gripped tightly by the past so all you could manage was a weak “Fuck off.”

Desperate for a quick escape, you all but ran down the plank to catch up with the rest of the crew, leaving a rather confused Izzy behind.

Izzy had noticed almost immediately that something wasn’t quite right with you. He’d always run a tight ship and keeping an eye out for anyone acting off was part of that. And you’d been off ever since Ed had set out their next course. You’d been quieter than usual. That wasn’t good. A change like that…  It usually meant that mutiny was brewing.

But it didn’t seem to be a mutiny. You were just as polite and respectful as ever with the captain(s).

You just seemed… distracted. When he’d snapped at you for something you’d respond with a generic “fuck off” rather than the usual creative retorts you always managed to give. It was disconcerting.

You were a bastard and Izzy hated your guts but you were also one of few people on the ship with an actual functioning brain. If he gave you an actually important task, you’d tell him off but it would get done well. You were still working but you seemed off.

Your weird behavior had started when Ed had decided on the next port you all were stopping at so Izzy wondered if maybe you were planning on deserting. It was possible. More likely than a mutiny in your case. But that would also be a pain. Not only were you actually competent, but you could also rally the idiots to actually get work done. Losing you would be (as much as Izzy was loath to admit) a hit to the crew as a whole. (Besides Izzy would bet money that Bonnet was the kind of idiot to send a fucking search party of you didn’t come back)

Izzy’s plan had been to stay on top of your movements while at port and drag you back if needed. But contrary to what Izzy had expected, you didn’t jump at the chance to leave the ship, in fact you did the opposite…

You were just standing there, staring off into the distance. Izzy rolled his eyes. Seriously? You really were acting off if you were getting distracted so easily. “The fuck are you doing?” Izzy snarled, already anticipating your snarky response. He didn’t get one. Hell, he didn’t even get a response at all. You didn’t so much as twitch. Izzys irritation won over his concerns and he grabbed your arm. “If we needed something to just stand there motionless, we’d buy a fucking statue! Get fucking moving or-“

He was cut off but not the way he expected. Any other day he wouldn’t have been able to get close enough to grab you and if somehow he’d managed it, he’d end up with your knife at his throat. Instead you spun to face him, a look of abject fear on your face as you cowered behind your hands. You blinked, as if waking up from a dream and glared at him. He expected the usual snarky comment but instead all he got was a weak, shaky, “fuck off” and then you just ran off. More strange behavior. You telling him to fuck off wasnt all that unusual but you typically had more to say. 

But not this time.

Instead Izzy was left standing alone on deck as you all but ran to catch up with the rest of the crew.

Something was wrong.

Something was most certainly wrong. Your actions made it readily apparent. Or rather your lack of actions. 

Izzy had appointed himself as the unofficial watch for this stupid “nature hike” and was doing his damndest to keep the idiot brigade from getting themselves killed. But he couldn’t help but notice you. You usually had a slew of snarky comments about almost any situation. You weren’t too shy about voicing your thoughts. But not today. Aside from a few hums and a yes or no in response to a question, you hadn’t said a damn word. Izzy would be lying if he said he wasn’t kind of missing it. As much as you went along with Bonnet’s stupid schemes, you were much more of a real pirate than the rest and your commentary was annoyingly entertaining. He remembered having to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling at a few of your jabs. It was really off putting to see you so… placid. You just followed along and moved almost in a daze. At one point he'd seen Frenchie grab your arm to pull you over to see something and you’d gone stock stiff under the grip.  But what the fuck was he supposed to do about it? 

Though it seemed he wasn’t the only one… It had been a bit into the nature hike. (If Izzy had to listen to one more fucking dumbass bug and/or plant spiel from Stede Fockin’ Bonnet, he’d probably accept getting murdered by Ed just so he could kick Bonnet’s teeth in a little.) You had been conscripted by Edward to help him hunt down some kind of food and the rest of the idiots were lazing around waiting while Bonnet grabbed a few crewmembers to start a fire. Izzy was watching that trainwreck occur.

“What the hell did you do?” The harsh tone wasn’t all that surprising, what was surprising however was who it was coming from. Izzy glanced to see none other than Spriggs, standing arms crossed.

Izzy sighed. He was so incredibly not in the mood for this shit. “What?” He all but snarled the word. 

Just as before, Spriggs didn’t even waver. “You know what!” Izzy’s expression shifted from annoyed to annoyed and confused. “Y/N! What did you do to him?” 

That caught Izzy off guard. “What I did?”

That only seemed to piss Lucius off more. “Of course you! You’re always being such a fucking dick to him! I saw you yelling at him before we got off the ship and now he’s barely talking to anyone. What did you say?”

A part of Izzy felt a little vindicated to know that he wasn’t the only one who noticed. “I didn’t.” He seemed moments away from being interrupted when he added a curt “I didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. He’s been acting off for a while actually.” Lucius didn’t seem convinced. Izzy huffed a sigh. “The reason I was yelling at him earlier was because he was zoning out. He was just staring. He didn’t even notice me until I grabbed his shoulder. I doubt he even knows what I said.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. Izzy resisted the urge to fidget under the scrutiny. After a long moment, Lucius finally spoke. “You really don’t know what’s bothering him do you?” Izzy simply shook his head. Spriggs furrowed his brow. “Huh.” 

Before either of them could say anything, Ed interrupted when he strolled back into the clearing, arms full of different fruit. “Hey-o! We didn’t find any snakes but you need to check out all this fruit Y/N found!” You lingered behind, tossing one fruit in your hand boredly, as the rest of the crew fussed over the fruits. Ed all but dumped the fruits into Roach’s arms (who was already rambling about flavors) and looped an arm around your shoulder. 

(Izzy had no idea how you’d managed to befriend his captain so damn fast but Ed seemed more comfortable around you than even some of the Queen Anne’s crew.) 

And usually, you’d have no trouble with Ed’s closeness but, in keeping with how you’d been acting off all day, this time you froze. It was clear you tensed just from the way that your nails dug into the skin of the fruit you were holding. Ed, seemingly noticing your odd behavior, let go and whispered something, his beard making lipreading impossible. You shook your head in response. Ed still seemed concerned but was quickly distracted by Stede, even though he gave you a thumbs up over his shoulder as he left 

The rest of the day went the same way. Izzy didn’t get involved in any of the crew's shenanigans, deciding just to stand back and keep watch. Yet, his focus kept drifting back to you. You were quiet and didn’t really interact much or make many comments. Despite Lucius’ attempts to get you to relax you seemed determined not to. As the day turned to night, you drifted away from the group. Just lingering on the outskirts of the clearing that the crew had chosen as a base, nursing the same drink for what seemed to be hours and just staring.  

Perhaps it was the strangeness of how you were acting or maybe it was the light buzz Izzy was feeling or maybe both, but he found himself walking over to you. Again you didn’t notice him approaching. Which was still very strange. Even if you had been drunk (which you definitely weren’t considering he hadn’t seen you grab another drink and the one you still held in your hand was only half empty) you’d always notice someone approaching you. 

Izzy tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. You didn’t say anything. Shit. Izzy immediately realized he should have planned what to say but he had approached you rather impulsively. Instead of anything that made sense like a ‘what’s wrong’ or a ‘want to talk it through (ugh)’ what came out of Izzy’s mouth was “The fuck is your problem?”

He realized that was probably a bad move when you glared at him. Your glare wavered. “Fuck off.” You grumbled. “I’m not in the mood for any of your bullshit right now. Go piss off someone else.”

A part of Izzy wanted to back off. But the almost dead look on your face and the ever-so-slight tremble in your left hand, caused him to stay.

 “No, shit. fuck. I’m not… I-” He paused for a long moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. Usually you probably would have let him and waited for him to figure out what he wanted to say. But you were pissed. So with a huff, you moved to walk away. 

And Izzy did another stupid thing. He reached out and grabbed your arm. 

You yanked your arm out of his grip so forcefully that you stumbled backwards and nearly fell, instead your back hit a tree and you all but sank down it, all but cowering behind your arms, drink long dropped. Your arms shook as you stared wide eyed at him but clearly not actually seeing him. The commotion attracted the attention of the rest of the crew.

A beat.

You blinked, seemingly realized what was actually going on, jumped to your feet and, before anyone could do anything, booked it into the woods.

Every breath felt like it caught in your throat. 

You couldn’t believe you’d made such a fool of yourself.  In front of the whole entire crew no less. In front of Izzy.

Despite how long it had been, you still knew the path. Your legs moved almost numbly as you ran but your course was clear. 

You stumbled out onto the ever so familiar cliff side. Shoulders still heaving from the run and your anxiety, you looked out over the entire town, the ocean glimmering under the moon. The small town hadn’t changed.

The rock that you’d always used as a chair was still the same too. You sighed as you sat down. You pulled your legs up against your chest and rested your chin on your knees. You tried very very hard not to cry but, before you could stop yourself, tears were streaming down your cheeks.

 You knew it would be best to go back to the crew. They were probably confused about you running off and you didn’t want them to think you were deserting the ship. But you needed a minute. Even if the crew had decided to follow you for some reason, not only were you probably the most sober but you still knew these woods like the back of your hand. So you had time. 

Then you heard a crack of a branch. You almost missed it over your own heartbeat pounding in your head but being here, at the spot you always used to hide at, made you senses overwhelming.

“Lucius I-” You started as you frantically wiped your face and sat up to take a look at who you assumed to be the well-meaning scribe. Just as you were wondering how he’d managed to keep up, you locked eyes with Izzy Hands. You sighed. “Go on then, laugh it up.” You mumbled.

“What?” The man’s voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

 You gave the man your best glare (not too effective with your teary eyes and curled posture). “Really? No need to play dumb. Look! Y/N L/N being pathetic. Enjoy the show, asshole!”

Izzy looked woefully uncomfortable. He glanced briefly over his shoulder as if wondering if anyone would swoop in and save him from the awkwardness. No one did. It seemed that (being as good on his feet and less drunk than the crew) he’d been the only one who’d managed to keep up. “I…” He gave another glance. Still no luck. “I wasn’t going to mock you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then why are you here? Hell, why have you been bothering me all day?” Izzy gave you a confused look. “You yelled at me on deck. You’ve been staring at me all day. You talked to me. And then when I wanted to leave you grabbed me. Then you chased me all the way up here!” You counted off on your fingers as you spoke. If it wasn’t mockery then what? The only other option you could think of was an ass-backwards attempt at murder but it was much too underhanded for Izzy usually.

“I…” Izzy fumbled for words. You resisted the urge to snark at him again. “I thought that you were acting strange.”

“So you decided to bother me all day?”

“I wanted to help.” His voice was so soft you barely heard it. In fact, you immediately assumed that you’d heard incorrectly. 

“What…?”

“I wanted to help.” It was barely louder this time. “You’re competent. A valuable member of the crew. You’ve been acting odd since the captains decided to make port here. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to help.”

A part of you wanted to laugh. He wanted to help so he yelled at you and asked ‘what the fuck was going on?’ it was utterly ridiculous… and absolutely the sort of thing Izz would do. It was an actual attempt to help. You sighed, scooted over and patted the rock. “Come on. Sit down.”

Izzy did, noticeably sitting far enough away that his legs didn’t touch yours. He folded his hands awkwardly in his lap.

You sighed and before you could talk yourself out of it, you spoke. “I grew up here. Seems like I still know these woods as well as I used to.” That got Izzy’s attention. You could see him looking at you from the peripherals of your vision. But instead you stared out at the ocean. Looking at it from here it wasn’t surprising that you’d decided to go out to see and never look back, it glittered like a sea of gems. “I lived right down in that town.” You pointed. “My family…”  Your voice wavered and you paused.  Izzy just stayed silent and let you talk. “ They weren’t very good to me. Let’s just say that not all my scars are from pirating… I used to come up here a lot.  Sometimes sitting out here, even in the cold or the heat, was better than going home. I’d sit here and stare at the ocean and think of sailing away some day. That’s why I left. Why I became a pirate. Would you believe me if I said I think the pirate ship was safer? Sure I could have died but I’m damn sure if I stayed here, I’d already be dead.” You sighed and leaned your head back looking at the stars above you. “And the day I got on my first ship, I promised myself I’d never come back here. I guess that’s what's been bothering me.”

“I see.” Izzy mumbled out. 

“Yeah… They’re all gone by now probably. Nothing interesting I’m afraid.” You teased lightly. 

“No, that’s not what I meant…” He seemed to fumble for words for a long moment. You glanced over at him to see him clearly deep in thought. He’d listened to you ramble, the least you could do was give him the same courtesy. “Most people don’t choose to be pirates unless they don’t have anything left for them on land. I know a bit of how you feel… If I stayed on land, I’d be dead too. I was a street kid. Joined the navy, not completely by choice, then switched sides the first chance I got.” You nodded along. That made sense. Izzy’s precise fighting style made sense. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” He met your eyes somewhat nervously.

“Not much anyone can do to change the past.” 

Izzy shrugged. “I’m sorry all the same.”

You scooted closer to Izzy, letting your leg brush against his. He jumped but didn’t snap at you or pull away. You wrapped an arm around his shoulder and leaned against him. He noticeably relaxed under your touch. “Thanks Izzy. I appreciate you coming out here.”

“Honestly I don't think I helped much.” Izzy muttered. 

You chuckled. “Eh, you did pretty okay for your first try. Talking it through is much harder than it seems, eh?” Izzy grumbled in response but didn’t do much more than that. 

You looked back at the town below. “You know… The whole place looks much smaller now…” And it did. The same town that had felt like your entire world the last time you’d been here was just a tiny town. You could even see the Revenge from here. Your actual home.

As comfortable as it was leaning against Izzy, you knew you had to double back to the crew. You sighed and stood, gently pulling Izzy up with you. “We should probably get back to the crew… Otherwise they might think you killed me or something.” Your tone wasn’t right but it was closer to the kind of jabs you’d normally give. Izzy chuckled.

 Even once you two had stood up, you didn’t let go of Izzy, your arm still around his shoulder. You’d barely made it halfway back to the clearing where the rest of the crew was when a figure jumped out at you. Your knife was in your hands fast but then you realized who it was:  Jim had their knife pointed at Izzy.

“Bastardito! What did you do to him?” 

Before any blood could be shed you chimed in. “Jim! I’m okay. I’m right here. Izzy was helping.” Jim released Izzy and gave you a suspicious look. “Okay I’m not fine but Izzy didn’t do anything to me. He has nothing to do with why I ran off.”

Jim seemed to accept that as they leaned back and yelled “I found them!”

The moment you passed the threshold of the clearing almost the entire crew surrounded you. You were so overwhelmed by the whole crew around you that you almost missed Izzy pulling the two captains aside. 

“Y/N! Are you okay?”

“You had us so worried!”

Lucius was quick to make sure the crew didn’t crowd you too much.

“Alright then everyone! Let’s head back to the ship!” Stede’s chipper voice interrupted everyone. You raised a brow.

“I thought we were sleeping out here tonight?” The Swede asked, confused.

“Yes, well. Change in plans! The ship would be much better than this place! I mean the weather is positively atrocious! Think of the ambiance my good man!” 

Before anyone could ask Stede what the hell he was talking about (it was a clear night? and what was an “ambiance”?) Ed spoke up. “Come on everyone! You heard the captain.”

You spent the rest of the walk to the ship listening to Stede ramble about how most certainly this was not a place you all should be, Ed chiming in that you should pick the next port stop, and the rest of the crew making a point of trying to get you to laugh (succeeding a few times). 

You didn’t get another chance to talk to Izzy until the rest of the crew was asleep. You found him sitting on the mizzen top leaning against the mast, holding a bottle of some kind of alcohol. Without even hesitating you climbed up so you could sit next to him. After a moment of silence, “What did you tell the captains to get them to leave so quickly?”

“The truth. I said that you were uncomfortable here and that we should leave. Simple as that.” He responded.

You smiled. “Thanks Izzy.”

“Of course…” He fumbled for a moment as if trying to find something to say, then he simply offered the bottle in his hand. 

Getting drunk at that port was not something you wanted, but now that you could see it fading in the Revenge’s wake, you accepted. You took a swig and were surprised to find it tasted like good fancy rum. You looked at the bottle and then at Izzy.

“From my stash I took off the Anne. Don’t you dare tell the others, I am not sharing with them.” Izzy explained. 

You chuckled and took another swig before handing the bottle back. “Cross my little black heart.” You promised teasingly. “Although, first you help me out and now you’re sharing your fancy rum with me… I might get the idea that you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t.” Izzy mumbled. 

“What?” 

“I don’t hate you.” His words were almost slurred a little and you realized that the bottle had been half empty. “You’re a good pirate. And funny. I missed your jokes…” He almost whined.

You gently took the bottle back then took a swig for confidence. “I don’t hate you either. You may be an asshole but I can appreciate that.”

Izzy laughed and leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled and adjusted so you could loop an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. 

Since you only had one bottle, you couldn’t exactly cheers but you could raise the bottle while you and Izzy were both holding it. “To the future!”

Izzy laughed, his breath tickling your collarbone. “To the future! Fuck the past!”

You couldn’t help but laugh along. “Yeah! Fuck the past!” You held up a middle finger at the lingering lights of a port you’d been trapped in. The two of you continued that way, joking and yelling, until the port faded completely from view. Then you felt Izzy go completely limp against your side. You glanced over seeing he’d fallen asleep. With a small smile, you pulled the bottle from his hand and set it aside before curling up yourself.

As much as you could say “Fuck the past” the burden it left was still there. But as you sat on the mizzen top and watched that damn place disappear over the horizon, on a ship full of people who’d been worried about you, who had changed their plans to accommodate you, with Izzy Fucking Hands of all people asleep at your side, that burden had never felt lighter.

A/N: I did my best to stay true to the request but I made a few small changes, hope that’s okay!  Writing a reader with he/him pronouns was a little tricky. I’m so used to they/them readers.

#ofmd x reader #izzy hands x reader #israel hands x reader #ofmd izzy #ofmd #our flag means death #tw: past abuse #tw abuse mention #tw past abuse #I saw a few fics where Jim calls Izzy “Bastardito” which means little bastard and it’s perfect.