#tw: implied csa

[odesofmeddea]

dean, john, and azazel via the lense of... monstrous?

[abybweisse]

Are the twins virgin?

Sadly, ch135 strongly suggests they are not. If that chapter had been any more explicit in its depiction of what happened to them, the series would probably have to be rated for more "mature readers".

[wiredaughter]

∆•∆•∆

@tropetember #6: highschool au

camerashipping ☆ outlast ☆ religion critical ☆ school critical ☆ first kiss ☆ waylon park/miles upshur ☆ implied csa ☆ explosions ☆ be gay do crime and read it on ao3!

Light of the World

'That's the most disgusting thing I've heard in my life.'

'I know! Mate, I knew Loutermilch gave me the creeps, but...' Miles cut off, making a gagging face. 'It wasn't even him who got the nonce jokes right? It was father Sullivan.'

'For all I know it might be all of them.'

As soon as he said it, the idea made a shiver go through Waylon's spine, prompting Miles to wrap his leavers jumper around him. He gave him a grateful smile. The weather wasn't cold enough that he felt he was imposing and, on the other hand, it was a comforting weight; what with what he'd just learned about that kid's death. The kid.

'Wait, how's Lynn taking it?'

'Better, now that she knows she didn't do it to herself. Angry as all hell, but better.' He flicked his cigarette into the football field. 'Now, Blake - her friend, he found her- is a different thing.'

'Found her? Yeah, I'd imagine.'

'It's not just that, he went along with Loutermilch's story until Lynn managed to get the truth from him. Now he feels guilty.'

Waylon hummed, a small smile managing it's way through his face. He knew Miles sister, who was simply unfamiliar with the concept of not getting her way. 'And didn't she say something?'

'Sure she did. Dragged Blake along and, when their homeroom teacher didn't listen, she camped outside the headteacher's office.'

'Reckon old Matthews wasn't thrilled about that.'

Miles started pacing, angrily. 'That senile old bastard. All understanding; of course it's hard to lose a friend, he said, but no reason to make up stories. He threatened to write her up for cutting class!' He lit another cigarette. 'Then she tried speaking with that counseling nun, yes? Well she said the official version was already out there.'

'Give me a cigarette.'

Miles arched a brow at this, but stopped his pacing to light it for him, eyes lingering on his friend's mouth as he took a drag. When he spoke, his words had lost their heat. 'How I wish they'd all burn.'

'We could burn them.' Waylon offered, stopping to cough at the smoke before continuing. 'We should burn them.'

Miles looked at him like he'd never seen him before. 'What do you mean?'

'I think we should make a bomb.'

🔥

'Are you sure this is gonna work?'

'Early admission to Berkeley, hello? It's gonna work.'

Miles swatted his head jokingly, getting a handful of crisps thrown at his face for his trouble. 'I'm so lucky to have a computer nerd for my best friend.'

'As am I that you're uncannily good at chemistry for someone that skipped half the classes.'

'Hey, if this works we'll all graduate by default anyway, won't we?'

'When this works.'

'Right.'

Evening was just setting in when Waylon got into the security camera in the gym where the PTA night was bound to start later that night. With baited breath, the lads watched as the staff poured in, readying everything.

'Are you sure he'll be there?'

It was Miles turn to sigh this time. 'How many years I've been forging your excuses? The old man will be there, I guarantee it.' He ate some crisps and continued. 'Made it look all official, lightly threatening.'

Waylon changed to the window showing the final draft of the letter they'd sent Jessica's father, asking him to arrive to the meeting before the other parents, going over it until Miles made him change back to the cameras. It was boring work but, leaning against each other in the abandoned observatory, neither minded that much. The building was old and unstable, but that never stopped couples to go there to make out so they figured it was a good enough place to watch the destruction from a distance.

'There he is! That's him!'

For a moment, they just looked at each other, at the Voip call waiting to be placed in the screen. Waylon got up, carrying the laptop, walked to the edge to have a better final view of St Sybil. The anticipation was like an electric current going through him. He sighed when Miles' hand came to rest against this small of his back. It felt familiar, even though he had never done something like that before.

'Together?' He asked. Miles nodded, and they hit enter, eyes fixated in the building as the gym area started crumbling into itself.

'YES! Yes! It worked!'

Waylon hadn't realised how much he'd loathed that school until its destruction was underway. Until he had Miles jumping by his side, cheering and laughing, with too much joy to be held inside. He, however, didn't cheer, didn't jump. With an exhilarated breath he let the computer fall to the ground, arms busy wrapping around his friend's neck, pressing an euphoric kiss against his lips. Miles, startled, laughed into the kiss but held him closer all the same, hiding his face against his neck. 'We did it, Way, it worked!'

Waylon held him there, a hand running through his hair, heart racing with Miles arms around his waist, as he let their victory wash over him in waves now, rather than the tsunami Miles was.

'Oh my gosh.'

They jumped at that, not breaking their embrace, but turning to the small figures looking on from the trapdoor.

'Lynn?' Miles' voice was bewildered, but still older brother enough that she climbed through, followed by Blake. 'What are you two doing here?'

The boy looked embarrassed, but Lynn merely stomped her foot. 'He' She pointed accusatorily at Blake 'Told me you guys were dating, and...'

'I asked if they were!'

'Whatever.'

'So you decided to make a bet out...' Blake insisted.

'Sellout!'

Waylon giggled at that, unable to hold back, considering. Miles gave him a dramatic look of betrayal before he moved apart to manage sister down, leaving him to this sort of hysteria by himself. Miles incensed speech was, however, cut short by Blake, who'd wandered along and was now holding the laptop, staring out of the building.

'Is that our school?'

Lynn was happy for the excuse to stop listening to her brother and ran up to him, turned around, mouth agape and eyes wild. 'Well, is it?'

Miles was, for once in his life, speechless; so Waylon pulled himself together, sort of. Still grinning like a maniac he threw his arms around. 'Surprise?'

Lynn's delighted squeal, her air punches, had him rolling his eyes. Of course she was Miles sister. She clapped Blake on the shoulder. 'Classes are cancelled tomorrow!'

This got a small laugh out of him, which had Lynn continue to list the good news they cannot flunk us on English now until they were both chuckling and voting for which classrooms would better be caught in the explosion while Miles and Waylon exchanged an amused look. The latter's watch beeped on the hour, which had him give Waylon's hand a squeeze before turning to the kids, toying with his keys.

'Alright now, who wants to get Sonic?'

[meydia]

Blood Meridian; or, the Evening Redness in the West (1985) - Cormac McCarthy

Rating: 10/10

Reading this novel was like being reminded that evil persists, exists, is stoked by the mechanisms that people before us have carefully or carelessly put into place, perpetuated by sons that learn only violence from their fathers, hoping for easy solutions, for another whiskey or another fuck, onward into infinity like dancing bears on a very vast and dusty stage made of wood planks with ancient blood pooled in its cracks.

Just like its subject - the scalp trade in the Borderlands - McCarthy’s writing here is difficult to digest, forces you to slow down and absorb the horrors in their entirety. He lists these in excruciating detail - the gang commits massacre after massacre, unnecessary violence against innocent people, violence against people who fight back, violence against the people who employed them in the first place. All of these horrors are both fictional and real, based upon the actions of a real-life figure and leader of said gang, John Joel Glanton and his mysterious right-hand man, the Judge.

Yet McCarthy chooses to focus on the Judge as representative of true evil; supernatural in appearance, actions and worldly knowledge, the Judge states that “Whatever exists in creation without my knowledge exists without my consent.” After he records it tidily in his journal, we see him snuff out centuries, millennia-old example of human art with one giant hand - a scene that struck me strangely hard, considering that we had just seen him kill countless people, had been implied to harm children in unspeakable ways, had played the gang like a cruel fiddle for nothing but nihilistic enjoyment. And yet he is symbolically an imperialist symbol, consuming everything since he seems to truly believe in nothing but the tune of war and games of chance. No judge in the sense of justice - he holds court only in bloodsport and bloodshed.

And yet we see The Kid, our true protagonist, also born with a propensity of violence, show mercy; he helps; he is moved; he is unswayed by the Judge’s simplistic philosophy couched in the words of a skilled orator. We see him move on and become The Man. We see him kill, still; but he warns, he attempts to rescue others, he wants nothing to do with the game. He quits it entirely. His soul remained intact, and what happens at the end of the book… only happened because the Judge knew no other way to subdue it. And I think that gives me hope.

—

Personal note: I finished this book over a VERY long stretch - give or take 6+ months - but it was worth it in the end. I’m not necessarily a fan of historical novels, nor epic works, but occasionally I work myself up to it. I’m looking to maybe read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road next now that I’m used to his meandering style. I’m curious to know what people think about this book too though I’m aware that it’s already been dissected to bits and pieces everywhere on the literary internet and in reading groups and in universities.

A must-read for people unfamiliar with extreme violence and conflict, or those who want to learn about the Borderlands at the time, or if you just want to read beautiful descriptions of disgusting violence and a gorgeous, unfeeling and dangerous landscape.

[bonegrieve-arc]

Continued with @grief-worn from HERE

He stares at her for a long moment, waiting for her to tire herself of her own voice. Then he stood. Though he did not tower over her immensely, he did use his height to his advantage, grasping her jaw with one hand so they were looking eye to eye. He squeezed hard enough to hold her in place, but not hard enough to break her jaw. She could flee, if she wanted to. "The things I have been through would have long ago rendered you useless. Would you like to see, little Sharran?" His tadpole squirmed hideous in his skull, violently linking itself to the tadpole in hers. Every aching memory still left in his ruined skull ( children like him. not like him. different. broken. the thousand-times sting of a needle. hands touching, soothing. too much touching. not right. NOT RIGHT. a boy, a friend? dead. blood. entrails. the taste of something wet and human. devoured. forgotten. a man. a demon? the lash of a fist. uncle? brother? sting of a whip. sister's father. not right. not right. not right. not right. not right. not right. not right!! not right!!! cultists who came and bit and carved flesh and supped blood and pierced his body in so many ways. no more friends. no more family. no more. no more. only blood. only vile foul aches. want. want love want love please please please I am not right. ) surges into her and she is left to relieve every wretched moment with him. Every unwanted touch. Every kill. Every awful thing. And there was so much more that the crack in his skull had stolen from him. Taken away, left empty. He pulls away with a satisifed smile, tadpole recoiling as he wrenches away from her psychically as well. "I do not fear because there is nothing that compares to the horror of my youth. To my wretched existence. I know well your Lady of Loss. She has taken much from me. But what she did not take, others did. I have survived. Do not proclaim yourself a lord over me for remaining unbroken in your simple life."

[buni-gutz]

i remember seeing a screenshot from twitter of an anti saying its about protecting fictional kids and that they don't care about real ones

well here's an anti telling someone to look at ACTUAL CSEM instead of writing fanfiction

[nickelsdrocs]

Hurrying down the hall, Shuichi looks as if he’s trying to disappear even more than usual. Shoulders hunched, arms hugging himself— fingers digging into black sleeves in a deathly-tight grip —head ducked and brim of his hat lowered to cover his glossy eyes, he makes it to his destination after what feels like a lifetime of walking. But as soon as he reaches Seto’s dorm, a wave of nausea washes over him, nearly causing Shuichi to turn on his heel and retreat to his own room.

But he doesn’t want to be alone right now… He can’t be.

Hesitating, a hand shakily raises before rapidly knocking on the door. Sounding more urgent than he intended— but matching perfectly with how desperate he is —Shuichi hastily goes back to hugging himself, painfully-aware of how lackluster it feels. He wishes it were Seto holding him. He needs Seto to hold him. Needs to forget the feeling of His arms. But would Seto even want to do that? Or would he only be interested if Shuichi also offers to— … Is it fair to ask? Why does he want so badly to ask anyway?

Is it fair to even BE here right after visiting-

❝ S-Seto? Can I— Can I please come in? ❞ Shuichi calls out, barely allowing a breath to pass after knocking for Seto to open the door. If he’s even there… Please be there. - (( *shoves some Early-Relationship Shuichi* because he Would end up running to his boyfriend because Seto makes things feel ‘better’ — even if Shuichi hasn’t yet admitted What is going on. Though it’s probably pretty clear Something isn’t right lbr ))

@not-bcring

Everything is fine. Seto is Fine. He's really not.

Early that morning, the thought that he would need to steal something from his classmates bigger than just a pencil or a trinket if he wanted to keep being allowed to stay at Hope's Peak intruded upon his headspace. He spent about thirty minutes trying to decide what to steal before realizing that Ikuto… was dead. He didn't need to steal in order to go to school anymore. He could truly have the normal school life he's always wanted or as normal as it could be when attending a school like Hope's Peak Academy, and for a very brief moment, Seto felt relieved.

Only for it to almost instantly vanish as an overwhelming guilt washed over him. How could he feel relieved about the death of the man who took him in after his mother overdosed? Who took care of him when neither of his parents wanted to? Who gave him food and shelter and clothes and a comfy place to sleep and a place to belong? It didn't matter what he had been made to do to earn it. How could he possibly be happy that the man that he saw as his father is dead?

He was a terrible son, a terrible son who took for granted what his father gave him. And a terrible son doesn't deserve the luxury of clothing.

Before he could think through anything, he was stripping off his current outfit and tossing it out his dorm window. Then he started tearing handfuls of clothes out of his closet to throw out because bad sons don't deserve to even have the option of clothing. He was just about to rip the hairbands off his braids to add to the pile three stories below when the knock at the door and the sound of Shuichi's voice brought him out his head.

Something in the other boy's voice worried Seto; he sounded shaky like he was on the verge of tears. He needed him. Not thinking about his current state of dress, he called out, "S-s-sure! It's not locked! Just… just come on in." Finally, he remembered that he shouldn't bring unrelated people into his punishment, so he added, "Oh, wait,….. uh, I actually don't.. have… clothes.. right now."

[astrateiaa]

I submitted a request for an ask game hosted by @streetlight-halo . But then I realized I wanted to do my own version too, so have song #38 on my Revolutionary Girl Utena playlist with Nanami. The song is “I Bet on Losing Dogs” by Mitski, but I think everyone knows that already lol

[arielluva]

the director

still images under the cut (tw for allusions to csa)

[eugenoid-draws]

Thinking about how little bodily autonomy Daan possessed his whole life

[it-never-gets-better]

MY BODY TURNED INTO A CORPSE WHEN YOU TOUCHED IT VIOLENTLY.

[whumpchester]

dean offering to teach sam how to kiss. sam already having been taught by john

[bpdmaxxer]

“But he was just a child”

So was I

And I’m suffering and he’s not

[nerves-nebula]

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pages 44-46

I know im being dramatic, but art is the best place to be dramatic so leave me alone. Also, commission me, i’m so broke rn.

[flowers-in-the-basement]

as far as anyone at Stanford knows, Sam was a virgin when he got there. Jess seemed surprised when he told her, all "wow, really? A handsome guy like you didn't get any?"

He made up some shit story about how he just never had that connection with anyone- except for you, Jess, of course. Sam's a decent liar when he wants to be.

After his second first time, a while after he told her since he "wanted to go slow" he told her the truth, well something close to it. He didn't expect a reaction like that, sure he knows that he's fucked up but seriously? Jess cried and cried and told him that she was so sorry that happened to him and wow okay, turns out what he thought would happen didn't.

He thought she'd be mad, somehow, like Dean was when he learned John got to him first.

There was more than one reason she asked him to stay at Stanford, after all.