#tw: parent abuse mentioned

[ducknotinarow]

[2012 FootClan AU, FTM Casey and Shredder]

"It's Casey..."

His voice was soft at first, but he actually spoke up, something rare for him to do when Karai wasn't around to back him up. But Casey was tired of being misgendered by his father, that anger he was known for sparking, fingers curled into fists as he dared to speak back,

"I said, my name is Casey an' yer know that - I'm yer son, not yer daughter!"

| Muse interaction

Shredder strolled up toward his throne aggravated under the metal helm he wore. Unsure what was the most annoying issue and matter to handle right now. With that news about a ninja star begin found branded with an all to familiar symbol he knew. Saki had learned that he didn't finish the job in the end all those years ago. He should have made for sure that Yoshi perished in that fire. Because somehow that rat, was not only still alive but also keeping his own wrenched clan around. His men were turning into mutants left and right thanks to some unknown substance created the apparent alien life running around the city! His city that he had a hand in all dealings over. But these so called Kraang. It was putting a bit of a damp into his operations. Getting in the way of his main motive right now. His focus and resources were all pouring into one thing. Finding Yoshi.

Well they should be all focused on this one mission.

Taking his seat as he narrows his eyes towards the door waiting for Eve to walk through the doors. His eldest daughter of three, and apparently his daughter with the most outlandish train of thoughts here. He found the silver bottle by chance simply labeled as testosterone. How many times has he had to have this conversation with her? This was starting to become nothing more then a distraction. Doors opened as Eve was escorted by a few of his foot soldiers. She looked ridiculous with how she been dressing herself these days. As if the layering of her clothes was going to some how hide the truth. How she presented herself even. If it weren't for needing to up hold his image to his ninja he might make his thought far more known.

Instead, he simply closed his eyes as he waved a hand to dismiss his ninja. There was no need for them, waiting for the doors to close before he breathed out the annoyance he could only feel. Holding up the small silve jar in his hand. "What is this?" He more demands then asks, but his daughter seems to ignore the command she is being given here. Frocing his hand to grip the small bottle tigther in his hand. Slamming his hand down on to the arm of his chair demanding his daughters attention on him.

"Evealyn answer when I speak to you" He never had to raise his voice ordering his children even pit of acts of defiance seemed to get them to snap back into line.

"It's Casey..."

"What?" He didn't even jave a moment to think it over before he answered his disdain shoild be easy to pick up on how he said it though. He couldn't understand why this was getting worse. Why she even had this idiotic idea in her head. She was born a girl she doesn't just suddenly change this! "Evealyn." He sigh his disappointment just oozing over every letter of her name as he look back to the bottle in his hand.

Where did she even get this from?

"I said, my name is Casey an' yer know that - I'm yer son, not yer daughter!"

Sakis's attention snapped back to her. "Here, I was simply dispointed in my daughter's pour choices. But it seems I am to mourn my daughters death here tonight."

Saki moved to stand up now after he hardly stated as such. "Because that is the only way I am seeing a loss of my daughter here! Now, enough of this nonesense!" He raises his tone now as he holds out the small silver offending bottle of drugs. "Going behind my back and buying this? Do you even know if this is safe, Evealyn! This could just be a cheap knockoff! Did you even stop to think how it would react with the adderall you already take?" He poses here to his daughter, but she's not given much chance to speak anyway. "No, of course, didn't! It's likely already affecting and negating what you need, the more important thing here for!" He contuines to scold. "Now answer me, Evealyn!"

"I said, my name is Casey an' yer know that - I'm yer son, not yer daughter!"

Saki narrowed his eyes onto his daughter at the bold display of defiance being shown before him. Eve could sometimes when Karai was around be just as strongheaded as Karai was. But alone? Eve seemed dless likely which was the aim of the goal to achieve. Put an end to thi at last.

"I have no son." He stated coldly as he clouded eyes fell on to Eve before him. "I wouldn't even attempt to consider such a mockary" tossing the bottle down on the floor. As it rolled down towards his daughter. "To ever be a son of mine. Your lucky I haven't decided it means you wouldn't be a daughter of mine either!"

Saki nearly spits as he speaks out towards them. "I brought in a daughter name Evealyn into my home, my family. Instead of leaving you in the hell hole." As is Eve owned him to be his daughter for this one thing alone. "I gave you a home for you and your sister you fought so hard to keep safe." He's happy to remind her of. "I fed clothed and gave you both of you a roof." He contuines to lay out to what he sees is his clearly confused child here. "If you are not my daughter then I guess you are no mkre than a common foot spider of my clan."

Meaning less, the foot spilders all abandoned their identities unneeded when it came to severing under the heel of their clan leader. Their 'father' so to speak as they all looked to him from guidance and more. "And you know what I do to my ninja when they step out of line?" It was a faint vague threat, as the blades from his gauntlet slid out as he raised his arm to display them. But, the fact he hadn't stepped closer meant Eve had a chance to back down.

"Now stop woth this foolishness its nothing mkre then a distraction Evealyn. You know what we're doing here. You were ment to be scouting for any signs of the Hamato Clan not messing around with your deliousions!" He let the blades slide back as he turned his back on to her.

"Now get out I don't want to hear anymore about this. If you were to ever be accepted as my son? You would be such a disappointment to me now."

#muse| oroku saki #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ the sins of the father -aflockoffeathers] #[12 verse] #[foot!casey au] #[ftm casey] #ic rpely #muse interaction #ic reply #((Just in case I did look it up and no there is no risk of what Shredder complains about hes just being a bitch and assuming things here u- #((Id say this is before any interaction with the turtles still considering Shredder hasn't found a trace of them yet when this takes place) #tw: parent abuse mentioned #tw: transphobia #tw: me hating this cause I had to write it u-u #((nah im being dramtic but still ;3;

[nerdpoe]

Young Justice is always a little...concerned. With Phantom's living situation. Now they're outright afraid for him, and Bart has decided it's time to Ask An Adult.

It was the little quips. The tiny little things. Stuff that didn't seem to matter to Phantom at all, or appeared to be normal for him, that he didn't realize weren't normal at all.

"Oh, better not hope my mom catches me." "Doing what, staying out past bedtime?" "Nah, using my powers; she'd vivisect me!"

"Another stab wound. Great." "Don't worry Phantom, I've got the med kit-" "Oh, I'm not a baby or anything, I can handle it just fine. Just gimme a sec to take it out."

"My dad has better aim than that." "...Like, when he's hunting, right?" "...At what other times would he be shooting at me?"

"Huh. Not as bad as my parents place. Look; they have a decontamination shower!" "Phantom, this lab has been vandalized to the point of needing a hazmat suit." "Did I stutter?"

Finding out each others identities did nothing to soothe the worry. Tim quietly told the others that every time he tried to run facial recognition, he kept hitting a government firewall he couldn't breach. Phantom never told them his last name, just his first, and 'Danny' is super common.

The thing that really did it though, the thing that made Bart snap and run off to ask Max, was when Danny had a nightmare.

He was talking in his sleep.

"No. Don't-stop. Stoooop. I need...my skin. Mom, no. You can't...peel off...my skin..."

Bart didn't even wait for them to wake Danny up before he was standing in front of Max, talking a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what to do, with Wally staring in horror over a plate of waffles as he computed everything that Bart was saying.

~~~~~~

Danny had a dream about his mom and Skulker arguing about how to skin him. He wouldn't really call it a nightmare, because it was just Skulker, but the scariest thing was Skulker insisting to his mom that it was possible to skin him with a potato peeler. Dream mom was arguing that it was not, and that from a scientific standpoint that was a really piss poor way to preserve a specimen.

He hadn't been begging them to stop hurting him, he'd been whining at them to knock it off.

But when he wakes up, it's to a room full of worried friends and an old man who calls himself Max.

"Kid, I think we need to talk."

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #story prompt #first convo was with cassie #second was with bart #third was with kon #fourth was with tim #max is fully prepared to take in another kid #bart is fully prepared to share #wally went to dick to ask him to put his detective training to work and find phantom's parents #wally was just visiting max #catching up #shooting the shit #when suddenly bart comes in and just trauma dumps about one of the other young justice heroes #who is apparently in a super abusive situation #and probably needs help #body horror tw #skinning tw #but only mentioned in the context of a super weird dream #danny's living situation COULD use some improvements #but it's not as bad as everyone thinks #anti ecto acts are still a thing #but as long as danny is with young justice the GIW leave him alone so #eh #not like they're good at their jobs anyways #max is about to blow his mind with the following information #“you are not okay. it's okay to not be okay. but kid. you need help and we're offering.”

[incognitopolls]

"Abusive" includes forms of abuse like physical, mental, emotional, or any other form.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

#polls #incognito polls #anonymous #tumblr polls #tumblr users #questions #polls about relationships #submitted dec 12 #parents #growing up #childhood #abuse mention #tw abuse mention #cw abuse #abuse tw

[wilwheaton]

if you know this secret handshake some of us use today, i see you and i’m so sorry.

I don't celebrate Father's Day (or any other Hallmark holiday) for reasons that will not surprise you if you know anything about my life.

But I do celebrate all the other children of fuckers and pieces of shit who survived like I did, who broke the cycle of generational trauma like I and my sister did, whose mothers forced them to praise and worship their abuser "because it's father's day" like mine did, who fucking hate the endless reminders to celebrate the dad we never had (in my case, because he chose not to be a dad to me like he chose to be a dad for my brother. I guess being a bully was more satisfying to him).

I see you, friends. I see you, and I know you see me, and I am both grateful and sad. We know this secret handshake we wish we didn't know. We know a very specific kind of loss that only we know, a type of lingering pain that never really goes away entirely, that can only be reduced to part of the background noise, but can crank itself up to 11 without warning.

I just want you all to know that I see you, and I love you. I know how tough it is, how much it hurts.

I want to specifically make meaningful eye contact with all of my fellow survivors who are also dads, who show up for our kids in spite of the pain and loss. It's such a challenge, and it means so much. We broke the cycle and that is massive. I'm so proud of us.

#tw abuse #tw father mention #fathers day #parenting

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

Friendly reminder that "I bought you nice things", "I gave you food and a roof over your head" and "I've never hit/physically hurt you" does not justify emotional abuse, neglect or parentification.

And if when being confronted they make you feel guilty and get defensive and passive aggressive saying some variant of "Oh well I must've been such a terrible parent!" and tell you how they bought you nice things for your birthdays and how your basic needs were met, that does not make your feelings and trauma invalid. You're not a bad person or ungrateful for feeling hurt.

#tw mentions of abuse #c ptsd #parental abuse #neglect #emotional neglect #parentification #tw parental abuse

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I chased my abusive father on a pogo stick through an American suburb (he was also on a pogo stick) with malicious intent.

#dream #abuse tw #child abuse tw #abuse mention #abusive parent #parental abuse cw

[punkstylerecovery]

Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.

By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many people’s parents physically hurt them, how many people’s parents mock their insecurities, how many people’s parents don’t care for their children’s health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die? 

And so many people don’t give a fuck. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t deserve shit. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to “respect our parents” in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people don’t even think twice about it. 

But children DO deserve more than they’re generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and that’s vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no “societal power” to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck. 

Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than they’re being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what we’re owed in parent/child relationships. 

#parenting #Abuse #Tw abuse #child abuse tw #tw verbal abuse #tw suicide mention #Depression #Neglect tw #Parental Neglect #punkstyle #physical abuse tw #childcare?? #dunno what else to tag this #whatever

[furiousgoldfish]

I'm going to sit down and try to explain this with patience, to everyone who still thinks calling out narcissistic abuse is 'ableist' or 'dehumanizing to the narcissists', and that abuse is something we're all equally capable of.

I don't think you understand what narcissistic abuse is, or how it differs from the other kinds of abuse. We can agree that all and any abuse is damaging, traumatic and scarring, but narcissistic abuse is so extremely pervasive, hidden, strategic and unbelievable, to the point where I can't honestly tell it's something any regular human would be capable of. And even more than this, the survivors of this particular type of abuse have found it extremely, extremely difficult to figure out they've been abused, even when they've been put through extreme, devastating, and absolutely dehumanizing scenarios. Realizing that your loved one is a narcissist requires your entire world to break down, and every piece of your heart shatters in the realization, and it takes months, even years to accept it.

The only way we can possibly figure it out is to connect the patterns. And patterns of the narcissistic abuse are focused on erasing one's own sense of self, one's perspective and ultimately, complete control over someone's emotions and behaviours. This is often done from early on, the grooming process starts at age zero, your value, worth and usefulness is determined by them, and you cannot wrangle yourself free from it on your own, not without someone confirming to you that you've been held captive, that your free will has been taken a long time ago.

Unfortunately, I have to give some examples, because I don't think it can be explained otherwise. When I was 2 years old, a narcissistic person found it a nuisance to watch over me, and they beat me up every time I disobeyed. I was a toddler. Then they proceeded to convince me that I was a demon, and would burn in hell regardless of what I do for the rest of my life. I've been brainwashed by this person to believe I was not a human being, had no human rights, that it was correct and regular for me to be locked up, beaten, and that it was my fault every single time, even when I did all that was asked of me. This person then had me comfort them after they would beat me, because it was a stressful experience for them. I wasn't allowed to cry. I would be beaten for making a face expression they didn't like. It was random and unexplainable.

Another narcissistic person created a game where they would give me wrong instructions for a task, then torture me when I did exactly as they instructed me to. It got to a point where I would beg them to tell me what to do correctly, and they would respond with a laughing 'you should be old enough to know this' and they would be even happier to beat me up and scream at me for getting it wrong. This person not only threatened to kill me regularly, but often made me believe I was in my last few seconds of life, putting me in position where I believed I was about to die. They forced me to work for them in unsafe conditions, heavy physical jobs, where I was not allowed to say I'm tired, not allowed to cry, and even after I'd do everything, they would still tell me I didn't deserve to eat. I was a child. I didn't think for a second I was being abused. I was already brainwashed to believe that everyone else had it worse, and that I was lucky.

I had no identity besides existing for them, I had no free will except to try and make myself into something they could use, and if I didn't do a good enough job, I'd be ostracized. They loved beating me, screaming at me and making me cry, and then they'd leave me in a room crying without being allowed to make any noise, while they laughed in the room next to me, as a family, loudly so I could hear what a great time they were having. They would treat other children gently in front of me in order to try and make me jealous. They would revise every part of what they did to me if I ever tried to bring it up. I wasn't allowed my own perspective, opinion, or complaint. I wasn't even allowed to remember the abuse correctly. I would be locked in a room and questioned and punished if my opinions weren't to their liking.

I don't believe this is something anyone is capable of doing. I don't believe anyone of us is capable of torturing a kid until the kid begs to be killed. I don't believe most of us are capable of erasing a child's point of view, their reality, their humanity to the point where the child is forced to live a life where they will either comply or be killed, and they will be tortured no matter what. This isn't a regular thing that a person can easily do.

Luckily, us who have been through this, have noticed that there is a specific pattern to their behaviour. That they use almost identical phrases with which their invoke guilt, fear and hopelessness. That they can go frighteningly fast from rage to laughter to acting hurt. That they enforce their will over ours with a specific type of terror that triggers both our survival instincts and our compassion and shame. That we've been groomed by them in an almost identical way - to not believe that we're allowed our own feelings, memories, opinions, point of view, or freedom. That we have learned to exist only to be an extension of them.

We also all noticed that we're all absolutely, beyond terrified of them, and that we don't feel we're allowed to say it, or think it. That we're taught by terror to keep believing that they're good people, that they do none of it on purpose, not even the most extreme, insane, egregious abuse. That they will go to any length, even committing more atrocities, to escape accountability. That they use tactics of darvo, gaslighting, double-bind, planting insecurities, triangulating, future faking, discarding, love bombing, mirroring, smear campaigns, projection, scapegoating, silencing, throwing tantrums, victim playing, like it's in their second nature. That they're genuinely, absolutely terrifying and almost unreal in how far they're capable of going. And most of all, that they are dangerous, and capable of completely turning another human being into their puppet, and never think for a second that it might be wrong. To them, we are nothing more but toys to manipulate, control, and discard. We are disposable. There is no limit to what they can do to us, because to them, we are not alive. They would do to us what normal people wouldn't do to a corpse. And they feel superior for it.

People abused by narcissists from early age are likely to develop the most complex and extreme disorders, complex ptsd and dissociative identity disorder being some of them, because that's what it takes to survive being a child and existing next to a narcissist. This means that small children need to be shattered in pieces in order to please the narcissist. Others that are very common are eating disorders, anxiety, depression, paranoia, avoidant personality disorder, panic disorder, and compulsions to cater to everyone's needs, to the point of our own destruction. This is what they make of us, on purpose, in order for us to be of use to them. And they will forever insist it's their right.

When I'm saying the word 'narcissist', I am not referring to 'anyone diagnosed with npd', I am referring to a person who will do this to a child, and insist on doing it for the rest of the child's life. I am writing it because I don't want children to have to live like this forever. I am not aiming to dehumanize the narcissist, their actions show who they are, I am saying, be careful and aware that this person will dehumanize you. That you are disposable to them. That making you feel good in order for you to like them, is a game to them, and one they're very good at. That playing the victim at you and demanding justice, will easily manipulate you into standing against the victims of abuse and talking down to them for 'dehumanizing their abusers', and being 'ableist to the npd', after being tortured past the point of return by those people.

A lot of us are permanently damaged by what's been done to us. We are not asking for justice. We're not asking for revenge. We are asking to be safe. We're asking for this to stop. We're asking for children not to be left alone with people who are dangerous to this level. We're asking you to understand that a narcissist left alone with a child means a child in danger.

It's common to not be aware just how bad it can go, because we think that most humans know not to torture a child. We believe that nobody would do things to children that narcissists do. If you read the stories of the survivors, you'll find out what actually happens behind closed doors. The themes of torture, dehumanization, sexual abuse, brainwashing, violence, and extreme cruelty are common, even towards toddlers.

I need you to not attack those children when they grow up and say they no longer want to be around narcissists. I need you to understand that they know what they're talking about when they say it's not safe, that they want to be protected. The society already failed to protect them at their most vulnerable, and they had to make it alive by their wits alone. And now you won't even let them speak without attacking them? It's inexcusable.

If you want to know about the narcissists, read what their victims have gone through. Then make a judgment on whether we're allowed to speak, and whether it's worth warning others to hold caution. I've heard and read stories of narcissistic parents sex-trafficking their own child, holding them captive and locked up and convincing them it's right to do this, using brutal punishments to 'train' them into inhumane slave-like behaviour, keeping the children in state so terrified the children wished they were dead. And in all those cases, they still convinced the children to love their parents, and to never blame them for any kind of abuse. Yes, even in the sex-trafficking cases.

Fighting for those children to realize that they didn't deserve that, is the only correct thing to do. Fighting to help them realize they're in danger, and that they deserve safely, it's not only right but extremely necessary, it's what we all should be putting all of our energy into.

Wanting to keep others safe will never be wrong. Wanting to protect those who still have their identity, their sense of self, their undamaged humanity, their free will and their point of view, that's worth fighting for! And above all, those who already lost it all, need to be protected. We cannot allow for already badly wounded people to be dehumanized over and over again. Nobody deserves that.

#narcissistic abuse #tw child abuse #tw child trafficking mention #narcissistic parents #toxic parents #psychological abuse #taking children's identity and self perception #to train them into personal toys and disposable puppets #while neglecting the children to the point where children don't realize they have the right to feelings #or even to exist without the parent's approval #devastating abuse #abuse

[uncanny-tranny]

It's weird how people paint "daddy issues" and even "mommy issues" as, like, a joke or a failure on part of the person who has those issues, rather than recognizing that daddy and mommy issues stem, for so many people, from abuse. What this all is is just abuse apologia, and nobody seems to either notice or maybe even care.

When somebody with daddy or mommy issues opens up about the "why," I can't ever seem to shake the fact that they tend to have gone through a ton of abuse and bullshit as a child. It's just crazy that other people would look at that and see a joke or a failure of the once-child who was abused.

#abuse #abuse tw #abuse mention tw #child abuse #child abuse tw #mental health #it really goes to show (to me) that people either can't or don't WANT to acknowledge that parents can be the ones to have fucked up #if all the blame is placed on their child/ren then you can maintain the illusion that the parent is always right... #...that parents know what is best and they will always do what is best for their child/ren #it's just weird to be somebody with parental issues and all that gets steamrolled into 'mommy issues' that then become a Big Joke... #...especially because i'm a man (and because people are misogynists who think it's just so funny that women are people)... #...i find that my own issues are expected to be treated as a joke or a punchline or something i must whisper in the dark... #...so that others may have the luxury of pretending to not hear it or to have the luxury of forgetting in the morning... #...and it just sucks because that leaves me to remember and grieve and doing that with the knowledge that my abuse Is A Joke at My Expense #if you wonder why so many abuse victims/survivors become unsavoury: this is why #i'm too bitter about this topic specifically to care about the comfort of people who don't get it and don't WANT TO... #...because it is THEY who are uncomfortable with the very NOTION that abuse happens #if you can't acknowledge that abuse happens WITHOUT downplaying to for your sense of comfort you will NEVER help abuse victims/survivors #you will find that you start prioritizing YOUR sense of comfort over the safety and continued survival of victims/survivors

[selfship-wormie]

your F/Os despise your abusive parents. they adore you and are proud of you, no matter what your parents tell you.

#f/o #self ship #fictional other #self shipping #f/o stuff #f/o community #f/o x s/i #romantic f/o #villain f/o #comfort characters #tw: abuse mention #tw: abusive parent mention

[finleyforevermore]

Hey guys! How've we been since I've been away? Hm? Not good? Yeah, I thought so.

I was AFK (which means Away From Keyboard for those who weren't aware, or didn't think to Google it /nm) because my mom had taken away my phone for a bit but I could still use it to help with my math homework.

I did lurk around Tumblr a bit, and I did "officially" come back online for a bit, but I mostly lurked.

And how delightful it was to see (can not clarify enough how sarcastic this is) that someone I follow but am not moots with decided that March 20th was the day they were doing to commit suicide. They did not succeed. But they sure as hell scared the fuck out of me. Same story I've seen before with my other friends, abusive parental figure, and possibly SA'd like some of my other friends. Lovely.

And then ANOTHER friend as it turns out has an extremely abusive mother and got fucking strangled by aforementioned mother, then said in the posts of a vent post, "something something maybe she should've killed me".

Being technically AFK I had to go on anon for a bit and try my damndest to prove to my friend that their mother is beyond saving, and there's no use seeing her in a positive light, and they by no means deserve what happened to them. I don't know if it worked. If you see this, I'm sorry if I came off as rude. But that really was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I'd been trying to keep together fairly well but I had been thinking of Liam, Nex's death was ruled a suicide (and now his murderers will not be charged), all of my other friends are traumatized and now I've discovered another friend has an abusive parent, and someone tried to fucking kill themselves.

And so, we have this. This song has been my coping mechanism for the past several weeks and what I can best describe as my theme song. Whenever I see something tragic with either my friends or someone else my first thought is the words of this song. Largely because of the themes of getting salvation for the unjust wrongs done upon Sweeney or in this case my friends.

I really don't know why I was blessed to know such wonderful incredible beautiful people only for them to suffer relentlessly and have gallons upon gallons of trauma.

Do bad things happen? Sure. But with my friends it's non-stop. One traumatic event after another after another after another and I'm. Just so done. I'm so sick. And I'm so tired. Of everything. Of all the pain and suffering. Of the fact I can't do anything. Of the fact I feel too much. This probably shouldn't be impacting me so much but for some reason it is.

I would've been apprehensive posting this because I'm kind of self-conscious about my voice but some of my friends are suffering 24/7 so I think my voice is the last thing I should be worrying about.

Enjoy if you want. Or don't. That's ok too. Love you guys.

@literatureisdying

#voice reveal #tw abuse #tw sa mention #tw sa #tw parental abuse #tw parental issues #tw child abuse #tw sui ideation #tw sui talk #tw sui attempt #tw suicide #epiphany #sweeney todd: the demon barber of fleet street #sweeney todd the demon barber of fleet street #sweeney todd #epiphany sweeney todd #finley sings a song! 💚🎧

[a-sip-of-milo]

"But if you never have kids, who's going to take care of you when you're old?"

So, your reasoning for wanting/having children is so you've got someone who feels obligated to take care of you? Sounds abusive but okay.

DNI if you believe in cluster B abuse.

#tw abuse mention #npd safe #narcissistic abuse is not real #cluster b safe #toxic parents #parental abuse #tw parental abuse

[cavinginhisfvce]

'IT'LL ALL WORK OUT'

Disclaimer: I'm honestly not a fan of Susan, but I thought this fic idea was cute!

Paring: Harringrove.

When Neil married Susan, he was against Susan adopting Billy, claiming the boy's real mother couldn't bother to be tasked with raising him, so no one should ever burden themselves with such a thing.

Susan, surprisingly, was firm in wanting to pick up the slack Billy's mother left in her wake, eventually Neil relented, and the adoption process was underway.

It's been four years, and a move to Hawkins, Indiana since Billy legally became Susan's child, something Max was displeased with initially, quickly became a comfort to her when she discovered what Neil did to his son. It had shaken her to her core, and when she relayed the information to her mother, the woman simply pulled her into a hug and murmured, "I know, baby. It'll all work out."

Max didn't know what that meant, or if she should trust her mom. But, she silently nodded, she had no real options here. She had to wait for the future. 

The future as it turns out, was just three months later; Neil had laid into Billy with more fervor than usual, and when Susan made to step in, her husband struck her. 

It hadn't detoured the red-haired woman, she continued her self-appointed task of checking on Billy, who was staring up at her with a look she's never seen on his face, a look no seventeen should ever wear. 

She gave him a small, comforting smile, just as Neil got a fist full of otherwise pristine hair; his freehand raising to strike once more.

The action worked quickly in pulling Billy from his Susan induced trance with a start, his body moving faster than his brain as he lunged at his father, swiftly knocking the man to the ground.

For years, Neil's abuse had only ever been turned towards his son, and in truth he was grateful; because Billy doesn't know what he would do if it was ever Max on the receiving end. She was a child, she was his shitty little sister. Max, who brought him the stupidest (best) hoodies he owns, the fabric softer than any he had previously. Max, who despite hating Billy in the beginning, now comes to his room when she has a nightmare or generally needs comforting from someone other than her mother. She's the only person to hug him since the day his mom took off. 

His sister who despite everything, tries so hard to show Billy someone loves him. She loves him.

Susan had tried to comfort him, but Billy always brushed her off. She never seemed to take it personally for some reason. Maybe because she knew he was afraid of what would happen if Neil even suspected Billy felt safe in their home.

The knowledge that Neil could hurt Susan was always present in Billy's mind, but he often wrote off his concern with a scoff. She knew what she married, she knew what he was like. It was her problem, not his.

However, seeing Neil actually hit Susan had set something off in Billy, because while she may have never defended or stood up for him as she had today; she still made sure he was properly tended to after encounters with his father.

If Neil sent him to bed sans dinner, locking him in his bedroom for however long, she would have Max sneak him a sandwich, Max was always more than happy to take said food. 

The times when Neil kicked Billy out intent on making the boy sleep in his car, Susan always snuck a bag of snacks, blankets, and whatever else, into the bushes by their house for him to grab. Despite always going to Steve's and sleeping in the boy's guestroom on those nights, it still showed she was trying.

If Billy was bed ridden after his father caved his chest in, a few too many times, she would come into his room, soothe his pain with hushed words and gentle touches. Billy was usually too tired and in too much pain to reject her warm hands and kind fingers working through his curls after she'd patched him up.

Seeing Susan cradle her cheek, seeing Max sob at the display, finally gave Billy the nerve to stand up to Neil.

He doesn't really remember much after straddling his father, his fists flying rapidly, their intended destination Neil's face, but he does remember Susan scrambling to call 911. Remembers her soft words of assurance that Neil was down.

He remembers Max's look of relief as their eyes met.

He still feels the phantom hold as Susan tugs him from his place over his dad's limp frame. Can vaguely recall the frightening seconds he thought he killed his father before the man was gasping awake, his eyes widened with fear as they landed on Billy. He was actually afraid of Billy. 

Everything beyond that was a blur, Billy doesn't really know what was said, or done. He just knows Neil was in police custody, something that would've left Billy parentless, if not for Susan having adopted him all those years ago.

Especially since his own mother had taken off when he was barely five, and relinquished her rights as a parent in the same breath she'd divorced his father. 

He always wondered why he wasn't enough. For his mother or Neil.

When Hopper came by to ask if they wanted to press charges, both Billy and Susan agreed easily. It was the most gratifying decision Billy has ever made in regards to his father and the abuse he's endured at his hands for years.

Billy and Steve started officially seeing each other a few weeks after Neil's trial ended. Hopper saw to it that his father was hit with the max sentence for child abuse, and domestic violence. Both Max and Billy would be well into adulthood when Neil gets released, something that made the decision to be with Steve all that sweeter.

He hadn't wanted to come out to Susan, the lingering fear that she would object to her newly seventeen year old son being with a guy was too prevalent. 

Though, technically, he didn't come out to her, she came to him one morning with her hand on her hip and a warm smile on her lips demanding he "bring his 'Pretty Boy' to dinner."

Billy wanted to be upset that she'd found out, but he was far too humiliated that it was his own fault she'd figured it out. Apparently calling Steve 'Pretty Boy' like it was going out of style, was a dead giveaway for the woman.

Much to Billy and Max's (dis)pleasure, Susan and Steve got along easily.

On Billy's eighteenth birthday, Max had barged into his bedroom, shrieking in horror when she was met with an eyeful of her brother and Steve in a slight state of undress, Billy had thrown a pillow in her direction, his voice rough with embarrassment as he shouted, 

"Mom, tell Maxine to fucking knock!" 

Both siblings froze at that, Max had a wide smile on her face, while Billy looked slightly mortified, his words echoing in his ears.

The look morphed into one of pain when Susan slipped into his room, her smile rivaling Max's with how big it was, "That's the first time you've ever called me mom…"

Billy swallowed thickly and nodded his head, though he refused to make eye contact with the woman, even when she was throwing her arms around his bare shoulders in an iron grip hug, "okay, okay, I get it! Can we maybe talk about this shit later, you know, when I'm not trying to get laid on my birthday?" 

Billy wasn't actually going to have sex with Steve with both Max and Susan home, but their presence in the house definitely wasn't going to prevent Steve from watching Billy fall apart beneath him, especially not if the brunet had any say in the matter.

This had Susan reaching out to lightly slap his shoulder, a faux look of exasperation on her features,"maybe next time you or Pretty Boy over there will remember to lock the door, hm?"

With one last smile at Billy, accompanied by a wink, she then ushered Max out the room, Steve almost immediately leaping up to lock the door behind them; his face beet red when their eyes finally met.

"I'm fuckin' moving out." His tone was embarrassed, but there was no heat behind, no real threat to his words. 

He wouldn't leave his sister and his mother for any reason short of them wanting him gone.

#billy antis dni #billy hargrove #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove protection squad #harringrove #steve harrington #max and billy #hargrove mayfield siblings #good parents susan hargrove #i dont actually like susan but ive been toying with this one shot since july or August #never planned to post it tbh #tw neil hargrove #tw child abuse #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fic #soft billy hargrove #implied #bottom billy hargrove #tw sex mention #angst with a happy ending #steve loves billy

[literallyjusttoa]

Finals are coming up and I haven’t been able to do ANYTHING so I thought I’d make a quick angst post to let y’all know I’m not dead.

Real quick TW// for discussion of abusive relationships.

I think about Apollo and Zeus a lot. Because it wasn’t always bad. There were moments of calm, moments of camaraderie. And I know those were the moments Apollo clung too, when he felt alone and unloved. He became obsessed with those moments, those small happy times. He convinced himself that if he was just a bit more demure, a bit more obedient, his father would go back to telling him little jokes or smiling at his songs. And the worst part was that this was true. Every inch Apollo gave up to his father earned him praise, every piece of himself he tore apart was met with joyous approval. Zeus only ever wanted a son he could keep on a leash, so Apollo spent his life tightening the collar.

And Apollo put all his time trying to make up for the fact that he was Apollo. He talked to much and loved too loud and cried too often and sang too truthfully. And he made these strengths his weaknesses, to bend himself into the shape his father preferred. It became his life’s work, making a mockery of himself. And when it stormed he would weep for his children, who he desperately tried to teach to be better than him, without knowing what better truly meant. And he wept for his brothers and sisters, for the lives they had to lead in a city of false pride. And he wept for his father, who could never love him. And he wept for himself, because he could never stop loving his father. Because it wasn’t always bad, and that was all Apollo had to cling to.

Sometimes, the man who destroyed Apollo’s life was a good person. That’s what made the hurt even harder to bear.

#my obsession with Apollos daddy issues does NOT say anything about me shut up I’m perfectly stable #tw: abuse mention #trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #pjo zeus #sunny speaks #also to be clear Zeus is NOT a good person #Apollo just really wants to think his father is a good man bc no one wants their parent to be the scum of the earth

[the-matron-of-ravens]

Genuinely curious, what are your thoughts on Dancer and FCG cuz like, he Literally, not figuratively, tried to kill her and did kill all of her companions at the time. I can see being critical cuz she doesn't seem to treat them like sentient beings, but even in the canon... most of the automatons aren't. Just some of the really old ones from Aeor/other old cities, right? So? She got a whoops!sentient microwave, treated them like a microwave, they killed all her friends and almost her and she's supposed to....? Be good buds with them? Also I know it's said that she trauma dumped on FCG, but let's switch it from microwave to personal journal - how would YOU feel if your personal journal popped to life and attacked you for trauma dumping? IDK haha I guess Idk you opinions and I'm just responding to my projected assumptions of your opinion. REALLY I'd 100% sincerely would like to hear your thoughts. I was really bothered by FCG pushing to meet with Dancer. Like jeez just leave her alone, you're her literal sleep paralysis demon, read the room.

Hey! Thanks for the ask, I put this a little bit in the tags but I can elaborate more here. (Edit: elaborate A LOT MORE it seems)

So here goes, I don’t know if you meant it this way but the analogy of a journal or microwave is helpful here because that’s exactly how Dancer treated FCG - as a tool to be used. But they *aren’t*. FCG is a whole being with emotions and thoughts all of which are apparent and so clearly distinct from other automatons.

So tbh, I think the perspective of “whoops! Sentient bot” makes sense for like a month, max. Not years. After all, we have seen NPC after NPC recognize FCG is a sentient being almost immediately after meeting him. I find it VERY hard to believe that Dancer never realized it herself.

Additionally, we need to step out of the plot itself and look at FCG’s mechanics. We know that every time he heals, takes damage for someone else, etc. he takes stress points, and that once past a certain threshold his switch flips and he goes full Murderbot.

We also know that rest and recovery are what reduces FCG’s stress points. So that tells us that Dancer was using and using and using FCG and not letting him rest (enough? At all?) even though he needed it. Because again he’s a person not a tool.

Even when they met back up recently and FCG sobered her up she remarked how she missed him doing that for her. And while I don’t expect her to miss him, I do think it’s indicative of her interest in him never being about him as a person but only how he could serve her.

And if we want to criticize FCG for his lack of boundaries, inability to take no for an answer and pathological need to fix Dancer sure that’s fair. He needs to unlearn a lot of that and quick. But we then have to ask ourselves where did those traits come from? They didn’t come from nowhere.

FCG is mentally extremely YOUNG. Aside from the 6?-ish Months spent with Ashton all he remembers is his time with Dancer. So, if FCG has a pathological need to fix others, to help them, and feels worthless if he’s unable to do so - that comes from how Dancer treated and trained him.

That doesn’t just go away; ESPECIALLY not when FCG doesn’t even remember going postal and doesn’t see to have the (IMO) most clear and realistic view of his and Dancer’s relationship.

After all look how he interacts with the Changebringer. She’s his surrogate Mom/Dancer. He needs someone to tell him how to feel, think, and what’s Good and Bad because he doesn’t know how to do it for himself - because he wasn’t *taught* to.

But here’s my real question. What do we call one person keeping another person in service to them, with no compensation or personhood to be had, and with no intentions of releasing that person from that service? That’s slavery my dude. AT BEST indentured servitude.

(but that implies there’s a debt. What debt? Waking him up? He didn’t ask for that; that was her choice.

And again this sounds a lot like children being “indebted” to parents for giving them life, housing, feeding, etc. )

That’s the part I can’t get over. And that’s the part I can’t get behind where FCG is the abusive one. The power differential was NEVER in FCG’s court; he never once thought of himself as a person or as anything but in service of “Soul Touched”. That complete sacrifice of yourself and your needs (or an inability to even know you HAVE needs) comes from being in relationships where those things are expected/demanded.

So, yeah, he literally tried to kill her, and I gotta be real I’m not surprised. Even children of abusive parents who they love snap sometimes. Because again, that’s mentally what he was at the time. A child.

But even then, no I don’t think it’s unreasonable or unrealistic for Dancer to be traumatized or not want to see FCG again. I don’t even think she’s wrong to say “I can’t give you closure” because closure isn’t something other people give you.

But the way she’s been discussed to be largely clueless about his sentience, blameless in his blow up, and FCG’s victim? I just can’t get behind that. Like at all.

#Critical Role #CR Spoilers #FCG #Dancer #TW: slavery mention #of the fantasy variety #tw: parental abuse #I don’t think this is discourse (moreso Meta IMO) but if folks feel differently I’ll add a tag #fresh cut grass

[alleiwentcrazy]

“Hey, Steve—”

He stops, placing his feet carefully, all too aware of the added weight strapped to his back. The ax makes him sway slightly—or maybe it’s not the ax, he thinks, turning back. Maybe it’s the weight of Eddie’s gaze crossing with his, maybe it’s the promise of something awful looming over them. Maybe it’s the stench of fear and decay, so prominent here in the world of creatures that want nothing but to destroy.

The moment feels heavy, giving them all another reason to hesitate. They look at each other for a long second, Steve’s gaze curious, Eddie’s skittish and unsure. To see Eddie Munson unsure is so rare even Dustin looks surprised. Steve feels exposed, more exposed than when he was half-naked and everyone could practically see the inside of his body. He desperately needs Robin to reassure him that he’s still there because one more look into Eddie’s eyes and he’ll lose it.

The silence between them seems to stretch into eternity, Eddie’s gaze drops, then he looks back up, and suddenly—

Suddenly Steve’s six again, roaming around the new house his parents bought not too long ago. The house is weird, Steve doesn’t like it. It’s bigger than the other one, looks fancier and Steve has already been instructed not to touch anything and to play only in his own room should he find it necessary. Entering his father’s study is strictly forbidden, so naturally, his mind is set on trying to get inside that room somehow, even if it means getting in trouble. But he has to find it first.

He passes yet another guest room when he catches something with the corner of his eye. His tiny feet carry him to the window, and then immediately outside into his brand new backyard, where in the furthest corner he finds a big, spectacularly green tree with—yes! A treehouse!

He’s so excited, finally having something just for himself in this big, empty house, where he’s not allowed to do anything but breathe and study. He’s up the ladder in no time, using as much force as he has to lift the flap and hoist himself inside.

He looks around and jumps in excitement. It’s perfect. It’s like—like magic, like he has teleported himself into another child’s room. There are stacks of colorful books in the corner, a patched-up blanket on the floor, some toys, some board games, even. Is this place real? He can’t wait to tell his mother how grateful he is for that, he’ll have to give special thanks to his father, too, because his father always says that everything he has is due to their goodwill—

Steve’s startled when he hears the ladder moving again, then he takes a step back when the flap goes flying open and a head full of dark, curly hair appears just next to his feet.

They stare each other down, the intruder’s dark eyes wide in shock, Steve’s in fear mixed with surprise. It’s a boy, probably around his age, but how did he get here?

“Are you… real?” Steve asks, not knowing what else to do.

The boy furrows his brows. “Obviously?”

They stare at each other for a second longer, then something flashes on the boy’s face and he nods to himself like he’s made up his mind. Then he clambers inside and stands in front of Steve. He’s a little bigger, dressed in clean but shabby clothes. His gaze is scrutinizing.

“Why are you here?” he asks, his tone accusatory. Steve wants to take another step back, but his feet are locked in place.

“We’ve moved in today.”

“Oh,” the boy’s face deflates, but his arms are still crossed protectively over his chest. “For good?”

“Uh. Yes?” Steve feels out of his depth. His parents told him that he shouldn’t talk to strangers, but… “Why are you here?”

“There’s a hole in the fence,” the boy shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “It’s my hang-out spot.”

Steve isn’t sure what a hang-out spot is, exactly, but he still nods. Neither of them speaks for a moment, then the boy’s arms drop to his sides and he reaches for the blanket.

“Alright, I’ll get my stuff and—”

“No!” Steve yells, clutching the other end of the blanket and trying to yank it from the boy’s hands. “I mean… We can play together here. These things are cool,” he says, his face getting hot. He’s telling the truth, the things in the treehouse are cool, but also—Steve isn’t allowed to play with other children, not the ones he’d like to play with, anyway. Only the ones his parents choose. This boy is none of those.

He takes a look around, clearly thinking about his options. Then his eyes land on Steve. He looks and he looks, and Steve feels a little like when the teachers his father hires to train him in things he doesn’t really understand ask him questions to which he has no answers.

This time, the outcome of the evaluation, as they like to call it, is positive. The boy drops the blanket.

“And you won’t tell your parents I’ve been here? Ever? You can’t tell.”

“I won’t,” Steve says earnestly, shaking his head. He won’t tell. He really won’t.

The boy looks at him for a while longer and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he smiles. His smile is wide and welcoming, so wide Steve can see the missing tooth in the back of his mouth. “Okay,” he says, simply. He’s so eager to play he immediately starts gathering toys and books. When he reaches for something lying on a high shelf, his tee rides up.

There’s a big, angry bruise on his back.

Steve wants to ask about it, but his parents told him not to pry—

“What’s your name?” he asks instead. The boy whips his head around and furrows his brows at Steve again.

“You sure you won’t tell your parents?” Steve nods. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he replies without hesitation.

“I’m Eddie,” the boy replies, sitting down on the floor and urging Steve to sit down next to him. He complies.

“I’m Steve,” he introduces himself, sitting down somewhat gingerly. The boy grins again and Steve can’t hold back his own smile any longer.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. How much do you know about elves?”

In no time, they become secret best friends. They hang out almost every day throughout the summer, and Steve learns so much about magic and fantastical worlds and creatures he can’t think of anything else. Sometimes they just sit down and draw, sometimes Eddie reads his books out loud, forcing Steve to see how cool they are—Steve’s not too good at reading himself, but he enjoys Eddie’s stories.

Eddie has a knack for making things up. One day, when Steve hoists himself inside in the worst of moods, having heard that he really is and probably will forever be no use in business from his father, Eddie just starts telling him a story Steve’s sure he’s never heard before. Then, next time, Eddie is in the worst of moods, fresh circular marks burned onto his arms, so Steve takes his poster paints and decorates the skin around them to make them prettier—which, sure, not the smartest idea, but it works, Eddie’s laughing, all okay.

When school starts, they keep it a secret. They pretend that they don’t know each other in the corridors, giggling between themselves when no one is around. They still meet up afterward, even in winter—then summer comes and everything’s great again. Steve has a best friend, and they play together and they share secrets together, and his parents can’t do anything about it, because they don’t know.

Steve has a best friend. Until said best friend disappears suddenly during the school year. Without a word. Steve has heard something about his parents, his father, but he’s not allowed to ask questions—he promised not to tell, didn’t he?

He doesn’t ask, but he still hopes. Every day, he climbs up that ladder and waits, waits so long, until the memory of Eddie’s voice gets blurred and distorted, and his smell no longer lingers on the things he left in their treehouse.

Steve gets to see him again when he’s in middle school, freshly moved to Hawkins, not expecting to meet anyone he knows here in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. He’s so surprised on the first day of school—their new house has no treehouse in the backyard, but Eddie is here. It must be Eddie. His hair is buzzed and he looks like he’s had enough of life, but it’s him.

Only, he doesn’t seem to care that it’s Steve. Maybe he doesn’t recognize him? But he does. When their paths cross in the corridor, he stops so suddenly, his eyes go big, just like they did in that treehouse for the first time. He’s just about to smile when Tommy, Steve’s new classmate, appears around the corner, calling out for him, and Eddie’s face turns to steel. Steve remembers his accusatory glare. It’s there.

Eddie turns heel and runs. Steve tries to talk to him again, but it doesn’t work. Tommy hangs around him like a vulture, scaring Eddie away—and besides, is it really Steve’s job to talk to him? He’s not the only one that’s confused, hurt, even.

Oh, it hurts like hell. It was never supposed to happen.

Steve spends a few nights crying over that. Then comes high school, people start calling him King Steve and Eddie looks at him with such disgust it makes Steve want to take a shower whenever their eyes lock in class. Steve’s senior year is torture because he shares it with Eddie, who clearly hates him so much he’d spit on him if he had a chance. Even after Steve’s fall from grace, Eddie doesn’t stop looking at him with anger burning in his eyes.

And he’s almost always looking, while Steve misses him like crazy.

Eddie kinda makes him think that he’s completely unlikeable. That he’s broken and can’t be fixed, can’t befriend anyone—until Robin.

Oh, Robin. Amazing, caring, beautiful, smart, snarky Robin. The relationship he builds with her quickly becomes the most important one in his life. She’s as much a part of him as his hand or heart is. Steve’s not a poet, but he’s sure, really sure that she’s the one thing he didn’t know that was missing in his life—like a part of his soul was wandering somewhere around the universe, lost and unable to come back without help.

What he has with Robin is unique, complete and incomparable. No one understands him the way she does, no one loves him the way she does. Among others, these are the things that make their friendship so unlike any other relationship Steve’s had. Robin isn’t just his friend. Robin is something entirely different, something Steve can’t, for the life of him, put into words.

On rare occasions, though, thinking about her does bring up memories of Eddie. Was it similar with him? No, it wasn’t. But then what was it, exactly?

Steve’s quite successful in pushing those moments away. He is, even when the kids join Eddie’s little nerd club. He is, even when the manhunt starts.

It’s the piece of shattered bottle pressed to his neck that makes him lose it. It’s Eddie’s misery, fear, and the real, tangible danger he’s in. The words he says to Steve along the way (you'd have let me die if Nancy hadn't jumped?). It’s the fact that they still don’t talk, not about things that matter, even though they suddenly have to coexist in a world that wants them destroyed and they have to do everything in their power to stop it. Together.

It’s the fact that Eddie may not make it. Even if they get out of the Vecna situation, will they be able to save Eddie from the people that see him as some kind of evil sent by the heavens to decimate them?

Steve’s worried, so worried. He’s worried about the kids—hell, Max is his top priority. But at the same time, other thoughts float in the back of his mind and he can’t seem to shake them off.

He can’t keep them all safe. Someone has to risk everything, they just don’t know who, exactly. For that, Steve hopes it won’t have to be Eddie. Leaving things unsaid… It will kill him too, eventually.

Steve hopes it won’t have to be Eddie. He hopes. He hopes and hopes, and—

Eddie’s gaze is on him again. Not skittish. Still scared, still unsure, but set, at the same time.

“Make him pay,” he says, a sense of finality overpowering his words.

Steve can’t believe it. He wants to scream, he wants to shake Eddie’s shoulders until he sees some sense. That’s not what you wanted to say! That’s not how it ends! That’s not how we part before possible disaster!

And he’s angry, he’s sad, it hurts like hell, because—what if Eddie doesn't care about him at all? Has he ever cared? Is he supposed to care for both of them? What’s he supposed to do now? Go up there, slap him, yell at him, hold him?

Steve doesn’t know where that last thought comes from. It’s certainly not something he should do at any point.

The eyes of Nancy, Dustin and Robin drill holes into his skull. He’s waiting for too long, hoping that maybe it’ll resolve itself.

Only it won’t. Eddie won’t say anything else. Steve won’t run up there and hold him. Instead, he nods. Eddie nods back, sealing the deal. Steve holds his gaze a little longer – their last chance.

It goes unnoticed. His team sets out and for the sake of them both, Steve is going to hold on to the hope of seeing another day.

#tw mentions of physical abuse #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #make him pay #but my way #alternate meeting #childhood friends #steve harrington's parents #angst #angsty angst even #feelings realization #(only a hint of) #platonic stobin #(but i have to tag and underline the platonic part bc. some people still try to make a ship out of it #*sigh. im tired grandpa can we have the stobin in platonic as the default finally it's been months*) #stranger things #st4 fanfic #steve x eddie #steddie fic #i have so many uni responsibilities. so ofc i spent a big part of my day writing this on a whim lol