stupid fics idk

Noses in the Stars

OVERVIEW: aaaaaaa ok some silly story about the importance of a teddy bear and a newfound friend to one of my FAVOURITE Piggy charas of ALL time: TIGRY. but they're Taylor Dhruvan Kumar (they/he, and Indian, yes) now, so yeah.

TRIGGERS: abusive parents [mentioned/implied], yelling [mentioned in detail], blood [mentioned in detail], death [mentioned in the slightest]

Date: 2009/12/23
Time: 3:47 pm
Location: The Tiger/Hansen Household

"Teddy bear, teddy bear, say hello. Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch your toes. Teddy- gah! Stupid hair."

Taylor flicked the hair out of their eyes, and continued singing his song, cradling the plush teddy in their hands like a it was a baby. It was, of course an inanimate object, but with no one around to care for the 10-year-old, an object was as good as a friend.

The teddy bear itself was soft and light brown. Cartoony, for those days. It had a lighter beige stomach, insides of ears, and muzzle. The eye's were big and unseeing, the mouth stitched into a perfect smile. A perfect fake smile.

You might think Taylor had no friends, the way he played all by himself in the corner. But that would be wrong. A young child should be allowed to consider a teddy bear a friend, right?

Suddenly, Taylor's was summoned into the kitchen.

"TAYLOR! I WANT YOU HERE IN 5 SECONDS OR ELSE I'D BE REALLY MAD!"

Well that's not good. Nonetheless, the little child swiftly stood up and marched towards the kitchen, smoothing out their purple vest and black jeans, making sure everything was neat and tidy. Nothing for his mother to obsessively pick on. That was a bit hard, thanks to his unruly, frizzy hair.

Walking into the kitchen, Taylor had to secretly grab hold of the door frame to steady themself. The menacing glares his parents gave them was enough to rock their confidence. His mother picked at her brown-ish dress absent-mindedly, texting an unknown number. Their father was glaring at him through a scraggly, orange beard, towering so high that the lights on the ceiling seemed to dim. Then their father stepped aside.

"I want you to tell me, who in this fine house o' mine, would tip over MY jar, and break it? Hmm?"

Well it wasn't really fair for poor Taylor, because no one in the house even bothered to even clean the darn jar. It"s remains were dull pink and shattered into a tight heap on the floor, apart from the small stray bits on the floor. It somehow mattered now, though. That it was seen. Broken.

"So I want you, to clean this up. WITH your bare hands. Because you broke it, with your bare hands."

"B-but father, that's dan-"

"I DON'T CARE! I DIDN'T ADOPT YOU FOR NOTHING! You're MY child now, and I ORDER you to clean this up. NOW. Or else something else REAL MENACING'LL be coming your way."

Taylor lost all hope of keeping clear of bandaids that day, and began to move towards the pile of shattered glass. His mother only raised her eyebrows and smiled. At the screen, maybe. Or at Taylor's predicament. Likely both.

As the child bent to pick up pieces of the broken jar, they began to get swallowed into his own world. A world where he had tons of friends, of every kind. In his mind, they're helping him clean up the glass. He wasn't even aware of the droplets of blood pooling onto the polished wooden floor beneath.