#trigger warning: abuse mention

[emotionaleating]

[itsalrightsblog]

It’s literally disgusting how many old freak pedos slither their way into the ED community. Those types of people are literally as low as it can get.

Reblog if you do not welcome pedos anywhere near your page‼️

[woaheyeradioboy]

I genuinely don't fucking care what you like in fiction. I don't care how disgusting, heinous, or "illegal" (not actually) it is, as long as you aren't agreeing with it or acting out things you read in a non-roleplay/fiction setting.

TW: Rape, Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Age gaps, Abuse, Bestiality, Grooming, Incest, and similar content

You can read about someone being raped. You can read about a child being raped. You can read about incest. You can read about pedophilic incest. You can read about someone fucking a dog. You can read about someone being raped by an animal. You can read about someone grooming someone else. You can read about horrible power imbalances. You can read about Victim x Abuser. You can read about gang rape. You can read all of that and more, whether the content is "romanticizing" or "sexualizing" it or putting it in a "positive light", because I do believe if you're reading these things you are capable enough to not have your morals and "respect" of laws immediately broken because you didn't get told 100 different times during the story how bad the content was.

You can read WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT, however you want, forever and ever. Don't act out the fiction in real life unless roleplaying with another consent adult (or teenager within your age range if you're not 18+) and it DOESN'T MATTER.

Fiction can affect reality, but usually only if you're allowing it to. Children oftentimes shouldn't be online but even if they are, it is never an authors fault or the people who enjoy the fiction the author writes that the child ends up exposed to bad things. If someone who is mentally unwell and cannot separate fiction and reality due to this is online and is affected by these things, it is not the authors fault or the fault of the people who enjoy the authors fiction.

If something that someone else wrote affects someone else in a bad way, it is not the authors fault.

Censorship of fiction is bad no matter what, and if you want to censor any form of fiction you are automatically already getting closer to people like transphobes and racists and ableists, because being pro-censorship ALWAYS leads down the same exact rabbit hole of puritan beliefs and controlling others.

[duskyashe]

CAMP NANO DAY 6

[chapter 4] [AO3]

(please see tags for trigger warnings)

============<×^-^×>============

It was a little known fact that Bruce Wayne hadn't only fostered his boys. As one of the few above-the-board trained and highly experienced foster parents in Gotham, Bruce had actually fostered dozens of children from all kinds of situations over the years. The only kids the press ever actually found out about were the ones he legally gained custody of, in one way or another, due to stringent privacy policies set in place back when he'd applied to be a foster parent for Dick.

Sometimes Bruce is able to keep in contact with his former foster kids, and he's always happy when that's the case, but other times he loses complete contact with them and can't legally track them down again. It's those children, outside of the ones he's legally able to claim as his own, that he worries about relentlessly. But even among those kids, there's two he worries about the most.

Jasmine Madeline Fenton and her younger brother Daniel Jackson Fenton had come into Bruce's life and home when Dick was thirteen. They weren't the first kids he'd fostered since adopting Dick, but they were the most impactful. Jazz was six, her hair was freshly cut and washed, her clothes neat and a bit on the baggy side, and her backpack still had a tag on it. Danny was three, he, too, had freshly cut and washed hair, his clothes were brand new, and his diaper bag was fully stocked.

Jazz was six and her clothes hung off her frame. She had bags under eyes and didn't know how to brush or wash her own hair. The backpack she had when she walked in his front doors was the very first new thing she'd ever seen that her parents hadn't immediately cannibalized for their experiments.

Danny was three and hadn't been given a real bath in almost a year. His clothes were all either too small or his sister's hand-me-downs. His diaper hadn't been changed in over six hours.

Bruce had been so sure he was going to be awarded permanent custody of the two. There had obviously been criminal neglect going on in that household at least, it should have been child's play to gain permanent custody of them. His lawyer and the children's case manager had assured them their case was practically airtight.

The kids had only been in his custody for two weeks before the state awarded full parental rights to the Drs Fenton. Jazz had only barely started getting used to eating three times a day again. Danny had just started smiling whenever Dick played peekaboo with him. And the courts sent. Them. Back. A month later and the Fenton's moved without a word, leaving behind not a single trace. It was almost as though they'd vanished.

Dick had been devastated. Alfred was crushed. And Bruce? Bruce experienced the five stages of grief for the second time in his life twice over. For years, he had private investigators searching everywhere he could think of for the siblings, desperately hoping to find even the slimmest glimmer of hope that they were alright, that they were still alive.

Jason coming into the household lessened some of that pain and desperation, especially after Bruce obtained full custody of him, but the tension between Dick and Jason drove the lingering tension between Dick and Bruce to critical levels. Argument after argument, fight after fight, all about the same topic: Why did Jason get adopted when Jazz and Danny were still out here?

Eventually the tension exploded in one of the worst ways possible, and the family was reduced back down to three. The first six months after Jason's funeral, Bruce refused to take on any new children. He even asked the private investigators to only contact him if they definitively found proof of the kids. The pain, the grief, the guilt was just too much for him. He'd failed Jazz and Danny, and he'd failed Jason, too. He couldn't handle failing yet another child.

Then Tim showed up, too tiny and too determined to get his way. The shock of seeing the obvious evidence of yet more criminal neglect from his own neighbors drew Bruce out of his downward spiral just enough to realize he needed help. Tim was right, he had been killing himself with his work, and doing so was the exact opposite of what Jazz, Danny, or Jason would have wanted from him. He notified CPS of a possible situation he was keeping an eye on, as well as the fact that he was pulling himself back together so he'd be able to reapply to be a foster parent, and then sought the help of a therapist sworn to absolute secrecy with the help of multiple NDAs.

A year later, he was reinstated as a foster parent, awarded first temporary, then later full, custody of Tim. He fostered a pair of blonde little girls for a few nights before an aunt was found in Vineland, New Jersey, who got custody instead. About a month after them, he fostered a ten year old boy for a week before his dad regained custody. He even fostered Tim's friend, Stephanie Brown, for two months while her mom went through rehab.

And then Red Hood came to town.

Between trying to track down and figure out who Red Hood was, Bruce also took on twin eight year old boys for about five days, a fifteen year old girl for two and a half weeks, a pair of cousins for ten days, and three siblings for a night. When Red Hood was finally revealed to be a revived Jason, angry at the thought that Bruce had replaced him and missing a few key memories, it had been two years since the last time he'd heard from the private investigators he'd hired eleven years prior. After weeks of careful negotiation and peace talks between Bruce and Jason, the family of four was well on their way to being the family of five they legally were, when Bruce decided it was time to get back in contact with the team he'd left in charge of the investigation looking for the Fentons. They only had a potential sighting of the Fentons at a class reunion in Wisconsin a few months prior, but any sighting was better than what they'd had for most of the eleven years prior, so Bruce asked them to double down and see what came from it.

Two weeks later, there was a knock on the manor door. It was the middle of a torrential downpour, one of the worst thunderstorms Gotham had seen in years, yet there was undeniably someone knocking at the door. Bruce, who'd been passing through the entry hall on a late evening stroll through the manor, was the one to answer the door.

She was in her late teens, her hair was long, wet, and stuck to the side of her face, her clothes in poor repair with splotches of dark red and neon green on them, and her backpack was worn and frayed. He was in his early teens, he, too, had long, wet hair that stuck to his face, his clothes were rags and barely hanging onto him with more of those dark red and neon green splotches, and his duffle bag was stuffed to the gills.

"Mr Wayne?" Jasmine Madeline Fenton asked, voice quivering as the two of them huddled on his doorstep, Daniel Jackson Fenton's eyes drooping to half mast from exhaustion. "We need your help. Our parents are trying to murder us."

============<×^-^×>============

I'm not gonna lie, it took me forever to figure out what I wanted to write today, but once I decided on this, it just wrote itself (⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠メ⁠) I actually got the idea for this fic from a prompt @evandarya had posted in the Batpham server a while back, which I absolutely loved and just had to write, so this ficlet is dedicated to them (not that they're aware of it yet lol)

Once again, I have no idea if I'll ever continue this ficlet, for my muse is fickle and likes to play favorites ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I might get lucky and get sudden inspiration for a sequel for this, or I might not, who knows? Honestly, if anyone wants to add onto this, go right ahead lol that'd be amazing.

[aphidclan-clangen]

Ollie how are you ALIVE??.

boy has so much mental illness it’s insane

[erinwantstowrite]

Do you know roughly how much of chapter 15 are gonna be like content warnings or about peters child abuse? I'm trying to avoid as much of the triggering content as I can but I also want to read as much of the chapter as I safely can

If not do you know roughly where in the chapter that content is gonna be?

i will put be putting trigger warnings before the chapter with more detail (because i haven't written a particular scene yet so i don't know the specifics of what i'll need to mention), but i can give a general idea

(this will be below the cut. please take care of yourself. i will be talking about child abuse in many forms. there's four paragraphs, giving a general statement about the content, but will not be going into detail)

it's going to get very heavy. peter alludes to a lot of things he's been through with foster parents. in the first scene, peter has a physical reaction and starts apologizing, dick and wally both reassure him and have a talk about it, so peter will feel safe. peter does not notice that he even has this reaction. but it opens the door to dick having to ask questions so that he DOESN'T accidentally trigger peter, and that's most of the chapter. scene 1, and scene 3/4 (while there's not a break, this scene will feel like 2 different scenes, and the second part is where this is brought up) will be talking about the child abuse with dick, because dick asks about it

peter will not be having flashbacks or going into extreme detail, but he will be talking about it and some of the specifics with dick. he'll talk about the different foster parents he had, he'll talk about just how many people in his life died, he'll talk about the impact that it had on him, etc. he'll also be talking about various forms of child abuse, both physical and mental, from multiple foster parents. but he won't be talking about what westcott did beyond the day that peter ran away. peter is not ready to talk about the SA, so he won't be doing so. there will be a fic in the LoF series that delves into that (but again I'll say that I will not be including flashbacks nor describing in detail what happened to him. it will be talked about, peter will be having reactions and working through it, but i do not want to write the actual scene of it happening. and in that fic, which is a while from now, dick will also be talking about his own SA).

And I really, really have to mention that Peter's narration on this topic is unreliable and biased. the way that he views his trauma is not the way that he should, he still has a lot to go with healing from his past. His narration could be triggering because of how he views himself. he thinks that how he went about this was stupid, but no one around peter will think the same. dick will talk to him about this and peter's viewpoint will start to shift. but in the beginning, it's very sad to see

I hope to do this topic justice and in a way that doesn't hurt any of my readers. I have people that will look over this chapter to make sure that I do, but that responsibility falls on me. I value you all and I care about your well being. I get a lot of asks talking about how they can relate to Peter in LoF, and please know that even if I don't respond to these asks (potentially triggering topics) I see you and I hear you. I'm so sorry that you were left behind and hurt. You didn't deserve what happened to you, no one does. You are important and I'm glad you're with us today. Please take care of yourself. If you find that reading chapter 15 will be too much, I understand completely. I will be putting a summary of the chapter on my page to give an overview of what happened but without the details. It will be a clinical transcript of sorts.

[sirenium]

people who 'joke' about being glad their fathers beat them when met with the fact queer people exist live a sad existence. I'm sorry a teen who uses fox/foxself makes you think that child abuse is in any way okay, and I'm sorry you went through that. But yeah that's where my sympathy stops lmfao, stop bullying queer kids because you have a dad that wouldn't accept you if you explored your identity in any way that isn't the norm.

[static-fucking-mess]

Eddie couldn't help himself. He stared at Billy Hargrove sometimes; the gorgeous curls and wild grin lit something inside of him the first time Eddie had ever laid eyes on him.

Billy's plush lips sucking in the smoke from his Marlboro reds, broad shoulders, tight jeans. Eddie couldn't help himself from focusing on the way Billy's tongue flashed out to wet his lips as the smoke billowed off into the sky from his nose.

Billy washed into Hawkins and Eddie's life like a hurricane from California. His loud car, crashing music, and Eddie knew just from catching sight of him once that he wanted to know everything about him. He imagined if he got close enough he'd still be able to smell the ocean air on his sun kissed skin. He wanted to know his favorite bands, his thoughts on media, God he'd even sit through talking about cars if it meant Billy would look his way. (It wasn't like he wasn't interested, just that his own knowledge was limited to keeping his dinosaur of a van alive, and he didn't want to sound like an idiot. Not in front of Billy.)

Everything about Billy attracted Eddie to him. Eddie Munson had never considered himself shy. Fuck, he was a bit awkward about social boundaries, but he'd never felt shy before. Then, there were rarely ever new people that came to Hawkins to stay. And Billy made it clear that he had no intention of staying. Hawkins was small, and desperately choking on its shallow gene pool, in Eddie's opinion. Fresh faces were hard to find, especially ones that were willing to look his way, after all.

Billy hadn't been willing. To look his way, that was. He took to the social hierarchy like a wrecking ball, and sent it all asunder. King Steve seemed no more, Tommy and Carol seemed to fight more amongst themselves these days instead of making biting remarks at others. But Billy? He still wouldn't spare a breath on Eddie the Freak Munson.

Eddie had tried once.

He'd been utterly tongue tied in approaching Billy, picking at his sleeve. The two stood awkwardly behind the school dumpsters as they had their smoke break. Eddie's hand shook as he rolled his wrist, searching for the right words that refused to come.

"I really— I mean... fuck— sorry. Hold on. Uh—"

Billy's cool gaze slid up from where his zippo burned the cherry of his cigarette. He flicked his wrist to close his lighter before he tucked it away, utterly unimpressed. Eddie would probably be unimpressed with himself too. But damn; Billy Hargrove was a God carved of marble and gold, blessed by California sun. Eddie was a home grown weed from an Indiana backyard. His brown hair frizzy, unkempt, and his skin a touch oily from his aversion to water. It wasn't like he skipped showers because he wanted to. But in that moment Eddie felt painfully aware that Billy Hargrove was miles out of his league.

"Beat it," Billy grumbled at him. "I'm not in the business of making friends with people like you," he hissed. Those beautiful blues steeling into something dangerous that made Eddie's insides go cold. He swallowed back his words and the shaking in his hand seemed to intensify.

"No um... no that's. Fair. People like me?" Eddie inquired, head tipping a bit. He wanted to know just what part of his stigma had reached Billy first. He'd seen the saints necklace dangling in the open neck of his shirt. "The Satan worshipper? The freak?"

"Queers," Billy snapped. He looked at Eddie like a hostile and wild animal. Like his smiles were more reflective of the animal kingdom than the humanity he bore to charm others. Eddie swallowed dry air and dropped his gaze? Putting his cigarette out under his shoe.

"Right," Eddie affirmed. Billy had seen the way the guy looked at him. It was impossible to miss those dark, chocolate doe eyes when they lingered on him. It tickled the inside of Billy's ribs something real funny when he noticed Eddie in class. Distracted, but gazing his way like he was looking at art in a museum.

Billy was used to people lusting after him. He was hot, and god he knew it. He utilized it more often than he probably should have, but his good genetics in the physical appearance department had gotten him into, and out of a lot of trouble.

But Eddie wasn't lusting.

Eddie looked like he was trying to figure him out. Wondering at him. And that was dangerous. Because Billy had caught himself wondering too. What calloused hands would feel like holding down his wrists, or what those pouty lips would feel like stealing the breath off his. Thoughts like that were what had led to them having to leave California. Thoughts that turned to action, action that had made Neil so angry that he gave Billy two options:

Leave California, and the boy behind...

Or go to Summer Camp.

The two seemed like impossible evils to wrestle with. And in the end, with defeat, Billy had chosen to leave his home behind. It had hurt more that the boy had moved on before Billy could even explain himself. He swore, man or woman, he wouldn't date. Dating just brought trouble. Laying roots was dangerous. Ripping them free just hurt more.

So, he broke Eddie's heart before it had the chance to bloom. So he thought.

Nearing the beginning of November, Billy struggled one morning to light his cigarette. Shivering from the cold, and possibly the pain in his ribs. The pain that curled up through him and reminded him that defiance tasted like iron and copper on every breath in.

"Here—" the voice was steeped in sweet honey. Eddie lit his cigarette for him, and Billy flicked his eyes up to meet with Eddie's.

Eddie cupped his hands around Billy's while the cigarette dangled from his lips. Eddie rubbed his rough hands over Billy's to warm them, breathing softly over them to fight away the frost and chill in the air. Billy stood stiff and still like the early frost had taken root in him.

Eddie gazed up at Billy and offered him a smile, almost sheepish as he stepped away. He mourned the loss of that warmth as soon as it was gone, the fleeting action stirring something inside that Billy didn't want to fan the flames of.

"Shit, sorry," Eddie snorted. "I'm kind of a touchy guy, and uh. Social boundaries? Not my strong suit."

Billy chuffed, shaking his head before he took his cigarette loosely between two fingers and spat onto the pavement.

"Don't fucking touch me, freak," he hissed to Eddie. His frustration sizzling as his voice lacked the ire he wanted it to have. He wanted Eddie to flinch and run. But he didn't. Instead he just... shrugged his shoulders, unbothered, and turned away to smoke his own cigarette.

The next time Billy had contact with Eddie, it happened so quickly that Eddie wasn't even sure what had happened. It was just something small. Something... simple. But as they passed in the hall, Tommy had shoulder checked Eddie hard enough to knock him on his ass, laughing like he was looking for Billy's approval. That was not what happened.

The loud crash against the lockers had startled Eddie back to himself from the position he was in on the floor.

Billy had Tommy pinned to the lockers, speaking to him in a low and deeply venomous tone.

"Hands off, Hagan. The only person who gets to mess with the freak is me," he snarled.

Eddie wondered what that meant, but it felt like stepping closer to a warm fire in a way. He knew Damm well it might be dangerous to get too close. But Eddie didn't mind the way Billy burned. He wanted to be caught in the rush of Billy's storm.

Eddie had held that warm feeling in his chest for a while. It felt like a glow, and it was something that made him look Billy's way, even when he was shoved against lockers, shoulder checked in the hall, or had his books knocked out of his hands. Eddie always caught it.

The smile that wasn't mocking, even when Billy would insult him. It was like he couldn't put the same vitriol in it that he used to.

"Freak" felt more like a term of endearment. "Loser" felt like an invitation to squabble. And God did Eddie take every chance to bicker with Billy Hargrove.

Mid December, their words had turned into a tussle.

"You wouldn't dare—" Eddie had invited, grinning at Billy who had every intention of dumping Eddie into a snowbank.

"I think you need to cool it," Billy had snarked back, looking less than threatening with his red beanie on his head, puff ball and all. It had been Eddie's. The beanie. But Eddie hadn't said a word about the gloves, scarf, and hat he'd left in Billy's locker after he had noticed that the boy from California didn't have clothes suited for Indiana winter.

"Don't do it, Billy," Eddie laughed.

"Do what? I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Billy said back, casual as he took a step closer.

It happened, in a crash of flailing limbs and shrieking laughter. Billy saw Eddie for the first time. He saw the bright smile that was punctuated by dimples on either side. He saw the way Eddie's fuzzy hair fanned out in the snow as he was dumped into the snow bank, and god he couldn't help but notice the way flakes stuck in his eyelashes. His cheeks and ears red from the cold; Eddie wasn't wearing gloves, a hat, or a scarf. He'd given up his warm clothes to keep Billy warm.

And that sure made something inside Billy warmer than the sun in California ever could.

It was mid January when a knock resonated number 12 at the forest hills trailer park. It brought Eddie out of dozing. The alarm clock read an ugly 2am back at him that made him groan.

He pulled himself up and out of bed as the knock grew more irritated and insistent, swiping his hands down over his tired face.

"Jesus christ, I'm coming! Fucking relax!" He bellowed. Eddie shoved his feet into his slippers and shuffled to the front door, ripping it open.

"My hours end at 11 pm on week... nights..." the irritation in Eddie's voice gave way to a shocked whisper as he was met with a ghastly sight before him.

Billy Hargrove standing on his porch, braced against the side of the trailer to stop any swaying. It looked like he had bruises littering half of his face, and Eddie imagined it was worse, with the way the bruises on his neck seemed to bloom down under his jacket.

"Hey," Eddie whispered, unsure if he could say more. When he reached to push a curl out of Billy's face, the man flinched like Eddie was about to put a knife to his throat.

Instead, Eddie put his hand on Billy's shoulder and guided him to come inside.

That was the night that Eddie learned about Neil Hargrove. It was the same night that Eddie slept, curled around Billy. Like he could protect him.

Billy slept with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone, sinking into the scents of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. Eddie was warm, and even though he was more elbows and knees than plush and soft... Billy felt like he fit perfectly with his head tucked under Eddie's chin. Eddie gave good hugs. Great hugs even. Enough of them that Billy felt drunk on the scent of cinnamon and the comfort of his best friend's arms.

They continued as best friends for a long time. Until the Tragedy of Starcourt. Nobody called Eddie. Nobody had thought to at first, really. With the chaos and the news of Russians under the mall— not to mention how the last week or two, Billy had been avoiding Eddie like he was a Germ.

"Get the fuck away from me—"

"Stay away from me Munson."

"Get the fuck out of my face."

"I won't warn you again, if you come near me, I'll break your fucking neck."

Eddie had been sulking about it. Well. More than sulking if he was honest. Had he cried on Wayne's shoulder? Absolutely. Did he get a speeding ticket on his way to the hospital once Max had called him? Absolutely.

Eddie stood in the doorway of Billy's hospital room, looking in on his best friend like the universe had put a knife through his heart. Billy looked barely alive. Fragile.

Eddie was one of the very few visitors that Billy got. Neil Hargrove hadn't shown his face once. Max had told him in a hushed voice that he had packed his things to leave town. Billy was a hero for saving so many people in the mall fire, and Neil still hated him. Didn't want a disabled son.

Billy woke up alone. He wasn't surprised to wake up alone, in a hospital room without a single card on his bedside. Sure, he wasn't surprised... but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt like being cracked open from the inside out. A glaring statement that told Billy Hargrove:

'You don't matter.'

Even alone, Billy stifled his sobs so he wouldn't be noticed.

"Easy tough guy," the gentle voice came from the doorway, making Billy's heart jump up into his throat. Eddie came in with the nurses, who checked his vitals and pain levels. But Billy barely noticed them. He was focused on the boy whose smile cleansed the tar clinging to his heart.

"Thought I told you to piss off," Billy snorted through his tears, managing a shaky smile.

"I've never been good at listening," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand through Billy's bed messy curls. "Can't shake me that easy, sweetheart. I thought you'd have learned that by now. That grouchy bullshit isn't gonna shake me," he assured. Eddie was determined enough to stick out the hurricane.

"You're annoying," Billy spat at him, pushing his hand away.

"And I'm determined to continue to be," Eddie replied as he snatched Billy's wrist. He slid his hand up to lace their fingers and squeeze.

"Give it time," Billy said, seemingly unimpressed. He refused to look at Eddie, only because the idiot was gazing at him like he was someone precious.

"I've got time," Eddie replied, unshaken.

"Jesus, Munson, why don't you just— just leave me the hell alone?! Why are you always," Billy's breath hitched as his voice broke. Eddie was always there. Like a balm to his wounds. He didn't flinch when Neil beat him. He opened the door or answered the call no matter how late. Eddie Munson was a rock in the hurricane, ready to weather his storm.

Billy thought back to the memories El had shown him in that pit of darkness. His mother, the beach, the waves... and the snowy December day that Billy had fallen in love with Eddie Munson.

Billy didn't resist when Eddie placed his hand on his neck, thumbing his jaw like he was brittle. Fragile. And Billy supposed he was.

"God damn," Eddie whispered, smiling at Billy with tender eyes.

"What? Quit fucking looking at me like that. Like— like... pity. Jesus or like I'm gonna break. I don't need your bullshit sympathies, or your God damn coddling, Munson."

Billy felt like a wild animal, backed into the corner of a cage. Snapping and growling at the tender hands that wanted to hold him. Especially if that monster still lurked inside him somewhere. Ready to hurt.

That fear washed away when Eddie kissed Billy's knuckles, something soft. Endearing. Billy could only hitch a sob as his forehead thudded in to rest on Eddie's collarbone. He squeezed Eddie's hand, and to his relief... Eddie squeezed back. It felt a whole lot like someone saying:

'You matter. I love you.'

And for once, Billy wasn't afraid of it being a lie.

[nothing0fnothing]

My mom always used to tell me that I was so much more mature than the boys my age because "girls mature faster" and always told me to date older when I started dating.

The men in my family would tell me that the best way for me to succeed was to 1) get really thin 2) get really hot 3) marry an elderly man months from death 4) inherit his money after he died.

Constant discussions about how I shouldn't be dating teenage boys because teenage boys "only want one thing" and I should be waiting to date till my mid 20s when they've "calmed down".

But yeah it was totally my fault when a man in a position of power over me in his late 20s started dming me when I was 13 and I thought it was normal.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

I always said I'd never post anything like this when I was actually active on this blog as I didn't want to start drama but you know what, screw it, I'm not here anymore and I'm tired of staying silent on this.

The way some of the fandom treats Yui is absolutely nuts.

And no, I'm not talking about people who call Yui "weak" or who get jealous over her situation (that's a whole other can of worms), I am talking about the other obsessive fans.

I'll start off by saying I am not saying all Yui fans are bad (some are delightful) but I swear she also manages to attract some of the most unhinged people I've encountered on the internet.

I can't even begin to name all the posts I've seen defending her and arguing against anyone who would call her weak or criticise her in any way etc. And while I know there certainly are people who call her weak or fanfictions where she acts as a love rival for one of the boys versus an OC or reader character, I've actually seen far less of those posts than ones defending her, to an almost problematic degree. Like I literally once saw a post where someone was genuinely telling people to kill themselves because they were treating Yui badly in fanfiction and like what the actual fuck?

I personally have no gripes with Yui as a character. She's written to be exactly what the story needed, and if you like kind cinnamon roll characters, she definitely falls into that category, but people don't have to like characters just because they're good people.

In the same way, the diaboys are all terrible to some extent and if they were real people, you wouldn't want anything to do with them. However, I would argue all of them are well-thought out characters with interesting backstories that clearly tie into who they are by the time the series starts. An immoral character =/= a badly written character in the same way a moral character =/= a well written character.

Now I'm not trying to say Yui is a badly written character, as I mentioned above, I think she fits the role she needed to in DL perfectly, but I do think people need to stop treating her like literal perfection at the expense of actual real human beings. I'll admit, I have seen people dislike Yui for immature reasons, but you can't have a go at people for not liking a fictional character.

I know, and have seen, some people argue that your attitude towards Yui reflects your attitude towards rl abuse survivors and just no. That's not how that works. If someone is reading an account of actual abuse and starts victim blaming that's one thing but DL is NOT REAL and it was never meant to be an allegory about abuse or abusive relationships, it's made for people who are horny about vampires. That's it. There is no deeper meaning. I cannot emphasise this enough.

I think if there's any real point here, it's that if some of these fans genuinely value morality and goodness as much as they claim, they would take a good look in the mirror at how they treat real people. If you love Yui so much, use her an example (i.e. being nice), not some icon to beat people over the head with. And people liking and enjoying the darker aspects of DL doesn't make them bad people in the same way watching a horror film doesn't make you a future serial killer.

Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk. Again, I am not talking about all Yui fans, just the worst ones I've seen. And to be fair a lot of the points I've made here are true for rabid diaboy fans as well. At the end of the day, it's how you treat other people, not fictional characters, that matters.

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

#1027

Personally I believe that a future as depicted in star trek where equal rights are guaranteed (utopian that is) will come about due to technological advances. Currently an individual who has a disability and/or disorder is usually dependent on other people who have to accommodate, support, care etc. Even the systems that we have like disability benefits, social services etc are still dependent on people. This is where most discrimination comes from because it gives other people the power to dictate our lives. Even well meaning people get compassion fatigue, caregivers burn out, not to mention the truly ill willed jerks who love to abuse the disable purely because they can. I envision technology to replace all that. Like Geordi in TNG has to depend on no one! He is completely independent because of the technology they have in future. And this is not just for physical disabilities but neurodivergent ones too. We will have adhd friendly personal androids who will help us with stuff we struggle with. Dyslexia won’t be an issue because information will be available to in different formats and if one has difficulty reading then they simply won’t have to. And no one else needs to know! Maybe we can have smart-glasses that will scan the environment and read body language and give a discrete signal to an autistic person who then has all the knowledge needed to react in a social situation. Doesn’t mean we have to behave like neurotypical but rather we will have a choice!! This choice is important. Autism won’t be a challenge if there was no more trying to fit a ‘square peg in a circle’ issue. All the positive things that neurodivergent and disabled folks brings will be truly seen and celebrated.

[emotionaleating]

pls don’t flirt with me i want to be nonchalant so bad but i unfortunately crave connection so intensely that i will give you my entire soul and forgive you over and over until i’ve lost myself completely and feel like i’m drowning

[itsalrightsblog]

I do not care how badly I want to kick cravings I will NEVER smoke nicotine EVER.

I hate myself enough to starve but not enough to destroy my lungs, voice, teeth, etc. I’m literally a musician I can’t imagine giving up breath support for a cigarette.

[mister-cynicism]

Might I recommend.. the laceygames.com franchise on YouTube, by ghosttundra.

I just watched an analysis on how the franchise tells the horrors of girlhood trauma in such a clever way. From the fear of imperfection, especially in conforming to feminine stereotypes, to the pain of abuse, especially SA, and the feeling of having just your innocence torn away from you.

In the lore, it is stated that "these games are REAL girls' games", which is so clever, because it really is. They're girls' games in a way where girls/AFABs can really relate to what horrors women are truly exposed to in the real world.

If you're into horror, and into media that dives deep into the REAL stuff, I definitely recommend this. I'm AFAB, and it just speaks out to me so much through the imagery that's definitely gonna give me nightmares tonight (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[hyd-3d]

I am in agony I have been abu$1ng lax for over 8 months again and my body can’t take it any more

If anyone has any advice on stopping using lax or how to deal with the pain I’d be very grateful, thank you

[antiendovents]

Atlas duo's creator here, got called a dog rapist and told to slit due to believing in reality shifting so that's fun. (I'm debating on following through tonight.)

please don't do it. I know it's hard, harassment is the worst, it's horrible and you don't deserve it. Take a break, turn of anon on your blog and step away. It might seem hard but it can help to take breaks and just get away from it all. Don't follow through, don't listen to them, they don't know anything. You are not a dog rapist, it was not your fault and you should not hurt yourself, especially not because people don't like what you believe in. Your beliefs are your beliefs, you aren't hurting anyone and you don't deserve hate for them. Please go take care of yourself, take a break. We love you (platonically) and we love what you're doing, you don't deserve this.

I know I've said it a lot, but please step away and take care of yourself, especially if it's affecting you this much. If needed turn off the ask box entirely, block anyone who says bad things, if you have other mods on the blog maybe they can help you with blocking people? Either way please know we are here for you, you are loved and cared about. Don't listen to the people telling you these things, they're stupid and unreliable. You're an amazing person and you don't deserve this. No one deserves this.