#Child abuse /

[sarcodyne]

Remember yelling at a child has been proven to be abusive because it is traumatic and bad for a child’s development!

This is their first time being a person. Be kind to them. (Honestly be kind to everyone the way you would a child. No matter how old it is all our first time being humans.)

Child in public *yells or cries*

Me: that’s okay. that is just a little guy who doesn’t know anything. :)

Child’s adult: *starts yelling at them*

Me: actually im about to become the joker

[cadaveerie]

cw: child abuse and non-sexual grooming

VEILGUARD SPOILERS (from lucanis' writing, a mission towards the ending and a little general)

About Lucanis and the Antivan Crows...

after finishing datv, I can finally say for sure that despite the fact that i find this game was overall fine, there are several things about it that have disappointed me. one of those things is about lucanis (and it's not even the only thing about lucanis that bothers me, but we'll leave that discussion for another time, because there's a lot to say about the writing).

in this game, Caterina Dellamorte (lucanis and illario's grandmother) is portrayed as a woman that's cold and demanding. not particularly nice, lucanis fully acknowledges that she's not exactly the loving type, and it's easy to assume things about her and about their relationship based on that... but for some reason it's never addressed that she abused lucanis when he was a child, by beating him and starving him. this is something that you can read in lucanis' story in tevinter nights, the wigmaker job, which was lucanis' introduction.

"Memories of sweat-filled days without food or water came unbidden Lucanis’s back tingled from where his grandmother’s cane had bruised his flesh for letting his guard down or fumbling his footwork. For years, he’d hated her. But his time as a Master taught Lucanis that Caterina’s cruelty was her way he was prepared for this life—that he survived."

I was waiting to finish the game before I said it, because I expected him to mention at some point but... no, nothing. I don't know if there's anything in a codex or something specific I missed, but even if that's the case, I expected it to be significant at all. it wasn't.

i'm not even going to get into what lucanis should feel about this. before the game came out i talked about some of my hopes for him based on the info we had about him, and imo there was not even half of that level of depth to his character. but i wouldnt have minded if the game went in another direction, or if lucanis simply just wasnt open to discuss it, or if he came to the conclusion that it was fine. i won't get into how "problematic" thinking that is, because i could understand that he tells himself that, and as a fucking assassin, i understand that he's come to terms with it because otherwise he probably wouldnt have survived in such a dangerous enviroment. i won't get into it bc as i said, i can understand it. my problem is that lucanis never says it. he never tells rook or anyone else that caterina abused him, or that the crows overall are very abusive and that they do this to children and break their minds basically in order to become emotionless living weapons. and if this is said in any banter, then i missed it in my 91h of gameplay, and i had lucanis in my party every single time we went outside. or it might be in a codex entry, idk. the point is that even if that's the case, that's not a great way to tell this info, especially when in the story theres no other way to learn anything like this about the crows. ppl that i talked to that didnt read tevinter nights didnt know this fact abt caterina and lucanis' past, they simply didnt cause how could they. I just wanted to say this because I think it's important to know if you like lucanis, or the antivan crows, and it's never even actually implied.

I also have many other issues with his writing, but the antivan crows are unfortunately also whitewashed. at least if you've played dragon age origins you know this, but our first antivan crow companion, zevran, talks about how he was taken as a child by the antivan crows. how he was literally bought by them as an orphan, and forced to become an assassin, and when he tries to flee, they attempt to murder him throughout the game. he even talks about how apparently some crows even made their members go through blood magic rituals to acquire abilities (SOUND FAMILIAR? IT'S LITERALLY WHAT ZARA DOES TO LUCANIS, ISN'T IT. HOW FUCKED UP). i think it's so disrespectful to dragon age's worldbuilding and so appalling that they simply... ignored all of this. I'm very upset that this was completely whitewashed. i wont get into it, but i assume they didn't show the crows being awful because, well... they have to be the good alternative for government in antiva. the bad guys are the antaam, and that's it. but one of the things i always loved about dragon age is how they treat these sort of political things. as i said, in origins the crows were more of an antagonistic figure, but at least it made them feel more real and serious. and people loved the crows like they were, fucked up assassins. in this game... idk, am i supposed to believe the assassin guys are nice? why hide the ugly? of course it's gonna be there, and it's ok. irl it happens a lot that oppressed people have to rely on groups that are less than ideal for their liberation, and a lot of times citizens are kinda ok w it bc no one else will stand up for them, so they have to work w what they have, and they're just relieved theres someone there for them. and it also shows that people are not perfect victims. if you're putting ppl in a corner, at some point ppl are rarely gonna care about being "good", and it's only human. and im not even gonna get into being an antivan crow rook because... sigh, it's more of the same. just disappointing. rook even mentions that theyre an orphan. and im pretty sure in the final mission about treviso, at least if you helped jacobus, he is like "i'll take in orphans and give them a chance". oh man, yeah. cool. please tell me how you'll raise them to be, im so curious to see how you won't groom children and abuse them into becoming mindless cold soldiers. that's fucking insane. this feels like fucking US army levels of propaganda and grooming. i love when we normalize child soldiers that's so fucking awesome i love this "woke" game when it's pro-military and anti-fucking-questioning-anything-a-military-force-does.

i even wondered if all of this has been retconned or simply ignored. i dont have a problem w retconning overall, and it's only natural it would happen in a franchise that's as old as DA, but the thing is... why would you do it. it literally just makes them flatter, it doesn't make any fucking sense.

so yes. im VERY disappointed in this game and the writing. this is one of the many things in the writing that disappointed me. the antivan crows are an organization that bring hope, and im perfectly fine with them being portrayed as "saviors", but im not ok with them conveniently not addressing any of their very bad issues. it's unrealistic. it's disrespectful to our intelligence, to dragon age fans and to dragon age origins. it's disrespectful to characters like zevran, who got into an insane war with them for a fucking reason. it's disrespectful to every antivan crow character to be honest. and im sorry, i dont even think this is insane to ask from them. like.... im literally just asking for consistency. they had it already, i dont understand why they did this. i had faith in them, but perhaps that's on me. im so heartbroken.

and i promise i actually think the game overall is ok. it was fun. definitely one of my least favorite games, if not my least favorite, but still. i appreciate it, and LOVED. LOVEEED some scenes. in fact, it might have at the very least one of my favorite scenes from the whole franchise. i think this game has very low points, and very high points, so it's hard to say what i think about it in few words.... but there are so many things like this in the writing, and it's just SO upsetting and disrespectful. im sorry. im truly sorry, you don't know how much i wanted to love this game and the writing. you have no idea. but i have self respect, and i don't lie to myself when i see something i dont like. it feels like they're whitewashing the crows cause we'd be too stupid to understand complex political issues. i thought this game was mature and could handle mature themes, but it doesnt seem like it's the case anymore. perhaps bioware is dead. i still want to believe they can come back from this but......... the post credit scene doesnt reassure me AT ALL. sigh. im just upset and sad. and as i said, this is only one of my many issues. i'll talk about the rest in the future, but im writing all of it down and i need time for that. i hope you understand that this comes from a place of genuine love. sorry i can't be happy about this game, but some of the stuff i see just ruins the rest for me.

edit: someone told me that apparently theres a banter when you go to dellamorte's villa and lucanis *implies* that he was beat by his grandmother (at least to another antivan crow rook). this whole post still stands though. i think that should have not been a banter that i (and im sure others) missed. and again, it also ties to how i think the crows as an organization and their methods were whitewashed. even if it's not particularly a lucanis problem, it could have been to some extent addressed by him.

[alastor-simp]

Demonic Savior - Demon Alastor x Human Female Reader

❥Summary- Who knew that the deer you helped was actually a demon?

❥Tags: Demon Alastor, Human Reader, Caution: Not For Minors, Trigger Warning, Abuse, Child Abuse, Abusive Parents, Deer Form Alastor, Curse Words, Angst + Comfort

❥Notes: Haven't wrote a story like this so I wanted to give it a try. I understand this story might be a bit traumatic for readers who went through something similar, so please skip it this story bothers you. This is 3K words, lets go

❥Credit: Divider from @cafekitsune

❥Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! NOT FOR MINORS!!!!!!!!!

✪In The Forest✪

"Pant....pant....pant." Holding a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm down after running away from your so-called home. It was never home to you, more like hell, as you had to suffer through everything your parents inflicted on you. Your mom would never feed you, locking you in your room, and whenever you had the chance to leave your prison, your drunk dad would beat you mercilessly, shouting swears at you. It was just plain luck that the time you ran away from your father, the door was left unlocked, letting you escape out into the woods, "GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BRAT!!!" screeched from inside the house, as you sped away as fast as you could, limping slightly from the beatings. You took a rest behind a large tree, trying to catch your breath and also soothe your aching body as the more you tried to run, the worse the pain got. There was no sound of footsteps anywhere, letting you know that you were safe for now, but you knew that your father was searching for you, ready to beat you again for disobeying him. Wincing, you slowly got up from the ground, moving slowly to avoid stepping on any branches that would alert anyone nearby.

A few minutes went by and you slowly came across a small river. Oh finally, some fresh water. Getting on your knees, your hands scooped some water, bringing it to your mouth to drink. The river was able to reflect back at you, allowing you to see yourself. One of your eyes was swollen from being punched, cheeks sunken from being starved and your lip was bleeding. It was a surprised that your face still remained the same, even after all the beatings that were inflicted on you. "Rustle..Rustle." A soft sound was heard from a large bush, causing you to jump up in fright. You were waiting for the figure of your father, to come out, but nothing appeared. The sounds continued, earning your curiosity.

Moving closer to the sound, you peeked behind a bush and let out a gasp. A large deer appeared in front of you, its fur a dark crimson red and its antlers black as coal. It was on the ground, hoof caught in a bear trap. It noticed your presence, dark red eyes staring back at you, gazing into your soul. Moving slowly as not to startle it, you sat next to the deer, letting it know you were not a threat. Drawing your eyes to the trapped leg, you placed your hands on the jaws, "I'm gonna try to open this okay?" Using the strength you could muster, the jaws of the trap slowly inched open bit by bit, allowing the deer to pull it out. Once you saw that the deer had freed its foot, you push the trap slowly together, so it wouldn't snap on your hand, setting it on the ground once you had closed it. The deer's foot was bleeding heavily, having been punctured by the sharpness of the trap.

Moving away from the deer, you went back to the river and picked up some water with your hands, carrying it over back to the deer. The water helped removed some of the blood that was on the leg and would help reduce the chance of infection a bit. Grabbing your shirt, you ripped a piece of cloth off, using it as bandage for the cut, to prevent it from bleeding more. Having tied it on, you look at your work, making sure it was all set before setting the foot down. Looking back at the deer, you gave it a smile, "There you go, that should help with the bleeding. Just hope you are able to walk." The deer had remained surprisingly calm when you were helping it, which was quite strange, but you were just glad it didn't run away or else that wound would have gotten infected. The crimson deer, moved its legs, standing up to his full height, apparently able to move on the wounded hoof. It moved slowly, its head coming closer to yours, giving your face a sniff. Its tongue had come out and licked your lip, cleaning the blood that was dripping from it. "Haha I'll take that as a thank you." Giggling at the sensation, your hand raised and rubbed the deer's cheek, which made its ears twitch. "Never seen a red deer before. Quite beautiful."

The moment was ruined when you heard a loud yell, "Y/N!!! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL KILL YOU!!!" Jumping at the scream, you realized your dad was close. Looking back at the deer, you motioned your hand for it to leave, not wanting your dad to catch it and possibly kill it, "Go now!! Run!" The deer didn't think twice and bolted away, disappearing into the bushes. Hearing more rustling from behind you, you turned seeing your father, face red from anger and the alcohol, as he was holding a beer bottle in his hand. "FOUND YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" He rushed towards you, the end of the bottle smashing against your head, causing it to break. "AHH!!", Grasping your head, there was a wet sensation appearing on your hand, making you pull back, seeing blood. A hand had grabbed your hair, body being lifted a bit off the ground, as you saw the hatred filled eyes of your father glaring down at you "YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME?!? I'LL BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU, SO YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE AGAIN!!" He pulled, dragging your body back to the house, your hell. "N-No! Let go!!" Your cries were left unheard, as the rough grip form your fathers hand on your hair continued to yank, dragging you, body scraping against the grassy surface. As you were being pulled away, a pair of glowing eyes appeared from far out of the forest, before they vanished.

✪Next Day✪

Groaning in pain, your hands were motioning left and right in soapy liquid, washing the dishes. This was the continuation of your punishment for trying to escape. Your mom caught wind of your escape attempt and joined in on the beating with your father. When you woke up, body still on the cold floor, your mother came from the kitchen, pointing her finger and yelling at you to do the dishes, since it's your duty to do all the chores and not hers. The tormentors that were your parents, were lazying about on the couch, watching TV as you continued to watch the dishes. It hurt....it hurt so much you could barely stand. Tears were running down your face, drops landing into the soapy water. Using one of your soap covered hands, you tried to wipe the tears from your face, however doing that caused the glass in your other hand to drop to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound alerted both of your parents, the both of them darting off the couch and into the kitchen, faces fueled with anger and malice. "YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! The roaring voice from your dad made you yelp in fear, raising your hands up for some sort of protection. "I-I dropped a glass! I-I'm sorry!" You prayed for mercy, hoping that they would only yell and degrade you. "You're sorry?" The cold tone from your mom, made you shiver, tears still running down your cheeks. "You don't look very sorry. Honey, I believe its time for some proper punishment." The evil smile on her face, made your stomach drop. No..No..NO..NO!!!

Your legs sprung to life, darting from the kitchen, trying to reach the hallway that led to your room. Your dad was quicker, his fist connecting with your face, causing you to fall to the floor, groaning from the pain. Your hands grabbed at your bruised cheek, crying loudly. Your dad stood above you, veins bursting from his face. His body got on top of yours, hands grasping your throat, squeezing. The air you were breathing was caught off, making you panic. You tried to push the hands from your neck, but his grip wouldn't budge, squeezing much tighter at your struggling. Your mouth couldn't utter a sound, faint gasping trying to get some air. Why? Why was this happening to you? Why must the two of these individuals, not even parents, monsters, must torment you so? Black spots popped in your vision, growing more and more weak, as the pressure on your throat continued. "Someone.....anyone.....please....h-help..me", your mind screamed, vision growing more and more hazy.

"Knock..knock..knock" Loud knocking came from the front door. Your dad locked eyes with it in confusion, turning his head to your mom, wondering who the hell it was. His hands had loosen slightly, allowing some air to enter through your mouth, but just barely. The knocking presumed, which got on your mom's nerve as you heard her curse, walking past the both of you to answer it. The ringing in your ears was making it impossible to hear what was going, but you heard the sound of the door slamming shut, and the sounds of footsteps approaching, your moms probably. A gush of wind was felt from behind, and through the ringing in your ears, you heard a voice, "I…….in..yo….daughter," it was broken, but it sounded like static?

✪Alastors POV✪

The door to this humble estate opened, revealing a small petite woman on the other side, wearing a scowl on her face. "Greetings, madam. Apologies for the sudden intrusion, but I acquire your daughter. Is the little darling here by chance?" Bowing a bit, I locked eyes with the miss, who seemed displeased at my arrival. "We aren't interested in what your trying to sell buddy. Take a hike-SLAM!" The door slammed in my face, hmph how rude. Molding into the shadows, my body manifested into the house, appearing in front of the supposed father-figure and the person who I was seeking, "I decided to let myself in, as I did say, I acquire your daughter." The poor darling was laying on the ground, face horribly bruised and neck laced with finger marks. Smile straining at the sight, my eyes locked onto the male on top of her. He soon stood up, walking towards me, attempting to be intimidating. How foolish.

"HEY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE COMING INTO OUR HOUSE LIKE THAT?! BEAT IT ASSHOLE!!" The man screamed, whiffs of alcohol emanating from his breath. The mother had came around me, crossing her arms as she stood next to her husband, eyes cold, "I don't know how you got in here, but I prefer you leave now before I call the police." As if a measly man dressed in a suit with a gun and badge could harm me. Summoning my staff, I gave it a twirl, before placing it down on the ground. "Now now, all I want is your daughter, who is laying on the floor, next to you." The both of them, looked at each other before returning back to me with smirks. "You want this pathetic waste of space right here?" The man raised his leg, striking the lady with a kick, sending her flying, body hitting the side wall. Her body remained limp, but she was awake enough to let out a groan of pain, grip on my staff tightening. “I implore you not to do that again."

The so-called man wore a smirk, raising his foot again to strike, "Whatcha gonna do about-" He never finished his sentence as the shadows I called stopped his kick, before lifting him up in the air and throwing him down the hall like a ragdoll. "AHHHHHH!" He was able to let out one good scream before his head hit the wall, knocking him out. "I believe I recalled saying,nøŧ ŧø đø ŧħȺŧ ȺǥȺɨn." The air grew heavy, as the dark shadows flooded the walls and floors, glaring at both the mother and father. My antlers grew to massive lengths, and slits changing into radio dials, revealing my true demon form. The mother's face was shocked, collapsing onto the ground with tears in her eyes, "M-monster!" She cried out, as her body shivered with fear. "ĦȺĦȺ-ĦØØ, Mønsŧɇɍ? Ɏøᵾ Ⱥɍɇ sȺđłɏ mɨsŧȺꝁɇn, mɨss. Ɨ Ⱥm Ⱥ đɇmøn, Ŧħɇ ɌȺđɨø Đɇmøn." Bending down, I leaned closer, enjoying the fearful expression coming from the mother. It didn't take long before her eyes rolled back and she fainted from the fear, "Ħmm, ħøw đᵾłł. UsᵾȺłłɏ ŧħɇɏ sȼɍɇȺm fɨɍsŧ ƀɇføɍɇ ᵽȺssɨnǥ øᵾŧ." Returning my attention back to the one I seek, her body floated in the air with my powers, as she floated into my arms, carrying her bridal style. She weighed almost nothing, the poor thing, body lacking any source of fullness, bony from head to toe. She had awoken a bit, moving her head softly to look at me, pupils glazed, "H-h-help." The voice she let out was so soft, before her head collapsed, landing against my chest. Leaning closer, I nuzzled against her head softly, "Not to worry, my dear, I will offer my assistance." My eyes locked on to the two bodies on the ground, smile growing.

✪Your POV✪

"Mmmmm...ughhhhh." Letting out a groan, you opened your eyes slightly, vision blurry. Your neck felt very sore, moving your hand up slowly to rub at it. Something was wrapped around your body, making it hard for you to move. Vision clearing a bit, your eyes gazed up to see trees hovering above you, fireflies flying around. Huh? You blinked again, feeling like it was your imagination. The more you blinked, you realized this was real. Moving slowly with a groan, your head looked down to see that you were on a bed, wrapped in a soft blanket. It took you a minute to realize this wasn't your bed, the sheets looked expensive and the covers were crimson red. Your eyes darted out to ponder where you were. Half of the room was a forest, reminding you of the one near your house, but on the other half, it was attached to a regular room, walls decorated with stag heads, glowing fireplace with green flames, a tall bookcase and a desk where a big cathedral radio was. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming." Pinching your arm, you waited for this all to disappear, expecting the area around you to transform into your real bedroom. Nothing changed once you did that, realizing that this was reality, and you were in a two dimensional room, having no idea where in the hell you were.

The door to the room bursted open, and in came a man dressed to the nines in a red suit, holding a microphone stand. Bright crimson eyes locked onto yours, and his smile was stretched to the max on his face, "Ahh awake now, are we?". He took long strides to the bed you laid on, smiling down at you, as you continued to observe him. He was tall, which made him a bit intimidating, but your eyes scanned him all over trying to figure out who and what he was. "Who-what?" It felt almost impossible to talk, as you were still trying to piece together what was going on. The person in front of you, noticed your confusion, letting out a chuckle that was mixed with static. "Haha, I suspected you must be terribly dumbstruck about your current situation. First things first, I will introduce myself. My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you again." He bowed, while he gripped one of your hands, placing a soft kiss on it, making you jump a bit. "Ummm...nice to meet you. Do you mind telling me where I am?" You noticed the little puffs of hair on his head move after you said that, wait are those ears? "Ah yes, We are currently in the fine establishment of the Hazbin Hotel, run by the Princess of Hell herself. The room we are in right now is my own private quarters." He leaned back to his full height, extending his hands out like he was giving a performance for a big show.

Did he just say Hell? How on god's green earth could you be in hell? Placing your hands on your neck, you rubbed at the sore sensation, as your memory flickered, trying to recall what happened. "Am I dead?" The man in front of you, leaned his head back, letting out a loud chortle, "HA! No! You are not dead, my dear. Just made a simple portal between the living world and Hell to bring you here." Okayyyyyyyyy, that answered your question a bit, but it was still mind-baffling that you were here, in Hell. Feeling a bit awkward that you didn't introduce yourself, you smiled softly a bit at him, "Sorry I'm Y/N. Nice to meet y......wait, you said again, have the both of us met before?" There was no way you have met him before, as you would remember a well-dressed deer man. The microphone stand he was holding disappeared, moving slowly to take a seat on the bed where you laid, lips turning into a tender smile, "Oh my, don't tell me you have forgotten? You treated the horrible wound that was afflicted on my leg by that horrible trap. I also must thank you for the compliment, not many have referred to me as beautiful before."

All the memories started flooding back, remembering the deer you had saved and treated, until your father dragged you away. "You were that deer?" Alastor's ears twitched in amusement, chuckling softly, "Correct, my dear. It is hard to come across good venison in hell, so I often times travel to the human world to hunt. My deer form draws less eyes towards me then this one," He announced, gesturing to himself, as he was explaining. "Is your wound okay?" You asked, concerned eyes gazing down to his foot. His eyes widen for a bit, not expecting you to ask him that, seeing as how stunned you before, you still had the courtesy to ask about his well-being, "It's perfectly alright now my deer, no need to stress. Your handiwork helped control a lot of the bleeding." His hand waved in the air, as the static crackled in his voice.

The pain on your neck was bothering you more, placing both hands on it to alleviate some of the pain. Flashbacks of your father began to play in your mind, recalling the hateful eyes from both him and your mother as he continued to strangle you to death. Sobbing, the tears began to flood your cheeks, alerting the demon next to you. "Oh no! There is no need to cry, my dear. You are safe from them now, they will never hurt you again. I made sure of it," His voice was soft, hands placing themselves on your cheeks, wiping away at the tears. His hands were warm, making you lean a bit into the touch. He made sure of it? What did he mean by that. Alastor was able decipher the question you wanted to ask him, just by reading your face, "I am known as the Radio Demon, most powerful overlord in all of hell. Those who have wrong me or provoked my rage will have their screams broadcasted all throughout hell. I slaughtered your parents in the living world, and found them in hell as sinners, granting them a second death by my hands. Their pitiful screams for mercy were just broadcasted a little while ago, thank Satan, you were still asleep." He said all of this like it was the most causal thing in the world, while your mouth opened wide like a fish.

"YOU KILLED THEM!?!" Finding the energy to move, you jumped out of the bed, standing a good feet away from the bed. Alastor tilted his head, confused at your reaction, "Well yes, Was that not what you wanted? To be saved?" He got you there, as you recalled wanting what was happening to you to stop, but not resulting in the death of your parents. "They were horrible people, but I didn't them to die. I just.....I wanted to leave and never go back, away from them forever." You wanted to roll into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling super overwhelmed over everything.

✪Alastors POV✪

Oh dear, this is only stressing out the poor darling more. My past sins have driven me numb to any form of guilt, but I have forgotten it's not the same for others. Removing myself from the bed, I stood in front of the little human, hooking their chin softly to gaze up at me. "If you feel responsible for what has happened to them, don't. They were going to kill you either way, even if you had left, they would have found a way to find you. They are the cause of their own undoing, not you." The tears still remained in her eyes, but she seemed slightly calmer now. "Why? Why did you save me?" She whimpered out, making my heart ache a bit. Chuckling to myself, my hands squished her cheeks, she was simply adorable. "Simply returning the favor, my dear. You helped me and I returned it in kind." Her eyes continued to gaze into mine, before they dropped to the ground. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a hug.

The sudden act made me stiffen, being unfamiliar with acts like this. "Thank you....for saving me." The muffled voice against my chest made me relax, returning the hug back, with one hand on her waist, and the other petting her soft hair. I allowed this to go on for a few more minutes before pulling back, "Ahem, I believe its time to head to the lobby. I'm sure the residents will be delighted in meeting you." The little darling in front of me tilted her head, appearing confused, "Residents?" Her cute acts made me shake with laughter, as I poke her nose softly, "Yes! Residents! We are in a hotel after-all." With a wave of my hand, my microphone appeared, allowing me to twirl it with my fingers, before setting it down, I extended my arm out, waiting for her to take a hold, "Come along, darling! Best not to keep them waiting!" There was a bit of hesitation that flashed on her face for a second before it was replaced with a kind soft smile, as her arm hooked around mine. "Lovely! Now! Let us head on down!" The both of us strode over to the door, leaving my humble quarters, as we headed to lobby, where dear Charlie and the others resided, ready for them to meet our new addition to the hotel.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

@morganodaidiot , @boldlyenchantingfox22 , @verona2314 ,

@angelmoonlight , @thatbadassauthor , @wantondoe ,

@doorknobhater ,

[why-i-love-comics]

The Strange Case of Harley & Harleen (2024)

written by Melissa Marr art by Jen St-Onge, Lea Caballero, & Jeremy Lawson

[sticky943]

Quite the appropriate time to reblog this again. "I'm an adult/you're an adult/we're all adults here" should NEVER be an acceptable or valid reason for ANYTHING, and should ALWAYS be ruthlessly scrutinized and questioned. Please stop saying "I'm/you're grown" or "You're a mature/grown-ass/full-grown adult" as a reason for someone to merit basic human rights and autonomy, or for someone to act better. Being a good person does not equal being an adult, and being an adult does not equal being a good person. Adults are not the only ones who deserve human rights, and "Im an adult/I am grown" is a disgusting rationale based on arrogance and entitlement. Also, even if adults were morally superior to children in every possible way, they're called human rights for a reason, not "good people rights." It's not okay to dehumanize any human -- YES THAT INCLUDES CHILDREN -- regardless of how moral or immoral they may be.

a friend of mine is a science educator. not a classroom teacher - he does the kind of programs you see in museums, fun experiments with lasers and dry ice and shit.

yesterday, a young girl asked him why he was allowed to pour liquid nitrogen all over his own arm but he didn’t want her doing it. I braced myself for some dumb “well I’m an adult so I’m allowed” non-answer, but instead he surprised me by giving some of the best science (and life) advice I think you can give a young person:

“well, it’s one of those rules designed to keep you safe. and following the rules really can help you stay safe, but they’re not perfect. sometimes, usually because they’re too simple, the rules let you do things that aren’t safe, or don’t let you do things that are safe if you know how to do them. one of the reasons I’m good at what I do as a scientist is I try to understand how things work so I can figure out my own rules for keeping myself safe. and sometimes my rules are little more complicated than what I might hear from other people, but they work better for me. like, I let myself play with liquid nitrogen, but only in really specific ways that I’ve spent time practicing. you should follow the rules you’re given at first, but if you take the time to understand how things work, maybe you can make your own, better rules.”

I loved this response. it’s a great encapsulation of two really important things I think people need to learn and re-learn all the time: on the one hand, listen to genuine authority figures; when someone knows more than you about a subject, don’t treat their expertise as “just another opinion” and act like your ignorance is just as good as their knowledge. but on the other hand, don’t obey anything or anyone blindly. recognize that rules and systems and established ideas are never perfect. question things, educate yourself, question things more.

and then, of course, a parent had to butt in and spoil this wonderful lesson by saying:

“but not the rules mom comes up with!”

everyone in the room laughed. except me. I gave her a death glare I’m pretty sure she didn’t notice.

because no. no. your rules are not above reproach if you’re a parent. the thing about the dictates of genuine authority figures - people who deserve to have power, and to have their positions respected - is that they are open to question. genuine authority figures are accountable. governments can be petitioned and protested and recalled. doctors must respect patients’ right to a second opinion. journalists have jobs terminated and credentials revoked if they fail to meet standards of integrity and diligence. scientists, to bring us back full circle, spend their entire careers trying to disprove their own hypotheses! you know who insists on being treated as infallible? megalomaniacal dictators, that’s who. oh, and parents.

I’m beyond sick and tired of this “my house my rules, this family is not a democracy, I want my child to think critically and stand up for themselves except to me ha ha” bullshit. my friend gave this kid the kind of advice that doesn’t just help people become good scientists - if enough people adopt the mentality he put forth to that girl, that’s the kind of advice that helps societies value knowledge and resist totalitarianism. and her mother shut it down because, what, she didn’t want to deal with the inconvenience of having someone question her edicts about whose job it is to wash the dishes on Mondays?

we already know you’re more likely to be a Trump supporter if you’re an authoritarian parent - and that this is a stronger predictor of your views on the current president than age, religiosity, gender, or race. I’ll say this another way in case you didn’t catch the full meaning: people who believe in the absolute, unquestionable authority of parents are more than two and a half times as likely to support Trump as people who don’t, and that’s just among Republicans. we can’t afford to treat the oppressive treatment of children or the injustice of ageist power structures in our society as a sideshow issue any longer. the mentality that parents should be treated by their children as beyond reproach and above dispute is a social cancer that has metastasized into the man currently trying to destroy the foundations of democracy in this country.

in short: parents, get the hell over yourselves before you get us all killed. and kids, learn as much as you can, and then make your own rules.

[oozebrain]

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter summary: You and Arthur come up with a scheme and it involves having dinner at his house.

Chapter warnings: angst, child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother). Things start to get darker this chapter but there will be wholesome moments to come later. Minors dni.

Chapter 2

Arthur and his mom had been living across the way for a few weeks now, and while you rarely saw him in person, you had been chattering for hours every day at bedtime. In your room was a whiteboard, stained with streaks of color from countless uses. It was an amusing game between the two of you; you would write your statement and he would act out his response through gestures. It was a fun game of charades that had bonded you two quite close over the past weeks. You’d learned over time he liked insects, theater. taxidermy, painting, puzzles, and that he preferred to be called Art.

Something that Art was the most curious about was school. He was home schooled by his mother and it appeared he was taught very different subjects. In the brief times you saw him in person, he would enthusiastically listen as you talked about your day at school, always wanting to know more and more. He wanted to know everything, he’d even rummaged around inside your book bag. You allowed him to keep one of your Biology textbooks; he was so enamored with he’d asked to keep it, and naturally you obliged.

Today was a special day, a day you two had been planning for a week now. Your mother was gone out of town over the weekend to visit with a friend. She’d left you with twenty dollars, a list of numbers to call, and a pasta salad in the fridge. She wasn’t around, which meant she couldn’t tell you who you could hang out with or where you could be. It was the perfect day for it.

On cue, Art waved at you from his window and you reciprocated with an enthusiastic wave back. He eyed you carefully, miming a calendar in the air and pointing at the imaginary date. You nodded in understanding. Today was the day.

Once Art departs you turn as well and leave your room, scampering to the kitchen to collect the bowl of noodles. It’s from a box, full of preservatives, loaded with sodium, and absolutely delicious. It was sure to be a hit.

You exit the house and head across the lawn. You do not head up the stairs but instead wait on the sidewalk in front of the house. After a moment, Art emerges. His smile is broad and wide, showing off his teeth as he greets you from the door. His eyes light up and he quickly heads down the stairs to close the distance.

“Wow you seem taller, I’m jealous. Move over a little and block out the sun for me.” You smile up at him and he voicelessly giggles, suspending his arms in the air and hovering over you, shading you like a tree. He then lowers his arms and motions to the glass bowl in your hands.

“It’s ranch and bacon rotini salad.” You answer and he pats his stomach in response. He approves. You can tell he’s nervous; his hands are trembling. He is doing his best to still them and tucks them inside his pockets to hide his nervousness. You give him a small pat on his arm, reassuring him things would be okay.

He isn’t wearing his hat today and you see the various patterns in the side of his head. His hair is buzzed short but the bald patches are still pronounced, along with the lack of eyebrows. It was uncommon to see him without some type of covering to hide his alopecia, and it made you feel trusted he was starting to become more comfortable with you.

“You think she’ll actually let me in this time?” You ask him with raised eyebrows as the pair of you headed towards the house. He hesitated, his face uncertain before he shrugged and thudded his chest with his fist, indicating he would handle it.

His mother was already waiting behind the screen door, her arms folded before she opened it halfway. She stared down at you, her expression difficult to read. She looked almost startled to see you standing on the porch with her son. Perhaps she thought she’d gotten rid of you.

“Hi, um... Art invited me over for dinner, I brought some pasta salad.” You hold the bowl out to her. She accepts it with hesitation and sets it off on a side table. She wipes her hands on her apron before resting them in front of her. Her demeanor was forced and stiff as she spoke.

“I don’t think tonight is the best night for it. Arthur has a lot of chores he needs to catch up on.” 

Art frantically pointed at her, shaking his head ‘no’, eyebrows furrowed. He wordlessly huffed and made a miming motion of sweeping, scrubbing the floor, and penciling his homework. He’d done all his chores, and you could confirm this because you’d helped him with his homework last night. Art looked up at her, a wide smile suddenly appearing on his face. He batted his eyelashes at her and she couldn’t help but give a small chuckle. Her demeanor softened and she became pensive. 

You didn’t meet her gaze but could feel her staring at you while she thought. You were uncertain how his mother felt about you. She was particularly secretive about herself and her son, especially letting people inside her home. From the cracked door you can see inside, dark wood floors with an elegant green carpet. The living room furnished with a matching green sofa, a fireplace, and an elk’s head hanging over it. Affixed to the wall were several crucifixes that extended out of sight beyond the door.

She cleared her throat, indicating she noticed you snooping and you looked to her as you tried to hide your guilt. She pursed her lips before saying, “You can stay for dinner.”

Art clapped beside you, bouncing slightly in place with a wide, open mouth smile. He was elated. You held the same enthusiasm but under his mother’s scrutiny you felt apprehension. You had little time to think as Art was pulling on your sleeve and tugging you inside. He pushed past his mother and you awkwardly did the same, muttering a small apology as you passed.

You had never been inside Art’s home before and tried to keep your gawking private. There was a large collection of snowglobes from various cities on the mantle and pictures of Art and his mother. You noticed an absence of a father, and some pictures had been ripped or cut to remove a figure, but a masculine hand remained in frame. On the door frame leading into the bathroom, you noticed scratch marks too high to have been made by an animal. They were deep and jagged and looked like they had been made with human nails. This made you uncomfortable but you said nothing as you followed Art to the kitchen.

The kitchen held a myriad of smells. There was a crockpot going on the counter that smelled richly of beef and carrots, and from the oven you could smell bread. A lot of your meals were frozen or prepackaged, and the smell of home cooking made your stomach grumble. Art smiles at this and holds up a finger, indicating it would not be much longer until dinner was ready.

His mother wordlessly enters the kitchen and resumes her duties. She checks the oven then meanders over to the crockpot. She doesn’t say anything but you can feel her watching you and Art out of the corner of your eye. It’s awkward and disconcerting; Art can feel it too. He takes you back into the living room, just around the corner so you two can have some privacy.

Art looks at you, his expression a nervous grimace as he glances back to the kitchen then to you. He was worried this wouldn’t work, as were you. You’re both anxious to face the unknown, but it’s something that must be done. You muster your courage and offer him a reassuring smile. He returns it half heartedly before the same grimace rests on his features once more.

You hold out your hand, pinky extended. He stares at it a moment before wrapping his pinky around yours then looks to you, searching your face. It was a silent way to say ‘I’m with you’ and assure him he wasn’t facing this alone. He let out a wavering breath and his features softened.

‘You got this’ you mouth to him voicelessly and after a moment he nods in self assurance. He looks back to you, determination in his eyes. He nods again as he tries to psych himself up before walking back into the kitchen, his pinky losening from yours before he enters his mother’s sight.

She is arranging the plates on the table and looks to the two of you. With disinterest she says, “Dinner’s ready.”

Your plate is different, and you notice the portions are smaller, but you say nothing. You worry you are intruding but you weren’t really here to have dinner, you were here to support Art.

The three of you take your seats, her at the head of the table and you and Art on opposite sides of one another. Looking down at your plate you take in the sight of the spread before you. Roast beef, carrots, potatoes, and homemade sourdough to go along with it. Your pasta salad remained in the living room, but bringing it up seemed awkward. Regardless, what lay before you looked and smelled delicious, but you realized no one was eating yet.

His mother is watching you and you set your fork down. She then folds her hands in prayer and you do the same. Art folds his hands in his lap, looking down at the ground. You feel him gently kick your shin and you reciprocate by stepping on his foot. You remain this way, a means to silently reassure him of your presence as his mother said grace.

Once she was finished she placed a napkin in her lap. With a tight smile she glanced at you, “Eat up while it’s still hot.”

You begin eating. The roast is succulent and tender and you find yourself eating faster than normal. After several bites you look up to see Art has not changed position, he continues to stare at the floor and not touched his food. After a moment he finally looks up and stares at his mother until he has her attention.

“What is it, Arthur?” She asks, both curious and aggrivated. He muttered wordlessly before making the outline of a building with his hands. He made the same motion earlier of writing in a notebook, carried a pretend backpack, and held his plate like a lunch tray. Art stared at her with a deep yearning in his eyes for what he was excitedly miming. 

Nothing happened. The only sound was that of the clock ticking on the wall. You said nothing but kept looking between the mother and son as a stare down began between them. Art then wordlessly mouthed the word ‘school’, his fists clenched in determination.

“School? Sweetheart you’re already in school. You know you can’t go to regular school.” She gently stroked his cheek and he stared ahead, nostrils visibly flaring at her response. He slammed his fist on the table and pulled away from her, doing what he could to express how upset he was. You said nothing. You didn’t really know what to say, not yet.

“We’ve been over this before. I thought we were past this... Is that why you invited them over?” She looked to you questioningly, “Did you put him up to this?”

The absurdity of the question should be funny, but she’s serious. Her gaze is sharp and intense as it cuts through you. You push around the carrots on your plate for something to divert your attention. You can feel your heart begin to race. You knew confrontation was coming with this scheme but you didn’t expect to feel genuine fear.

“You put him up to this, didn’t you? You’ve been filling his head with all kinds of stories.”

“No ma’am...” You start, clearing your throat to still the nervous jitters, “I’m a student at the nearby middle school and they have an art program that I’m in that I think Art would love. I... I’m sure you’ve seen how talented he is…”

She sighs and rests her head in her hand in a ‘not this again’ gesture. Art had mentioned before how much his mother hated his desire to be an artist and his love for theatrics. She was waiting for him to outgrow it but he never did. If anything, his love for theater had increased over the years. She holds this pose for a dramatic moment before looking at Art with a tear in her eye, “Am I not good enough for you? Is that what this is about?”

He scooted away from her and eyed her warily, glancing over to you. He was saying something; he was trying to warn you. You grip your fork as she starts sniveling and dabs her eyes with a napkin, her mascara and eyeliner bleeding onto the white linen. You didn’t understand why she was crying, or what she was even upset about to begin with. You and Art exchange uncomfortable glances.

“So you just think you can use me for thirteen years and toss me to the side? Is that it?” She got close to his face, raising her voice, “Answer me Arthur! Is that what it is?!”

It was her turn to slam her fist down, and she did so hard that his water glass toppled over and spilled across the table. She ignored it, her gaze was entirely fixated on Art. He visibly gulped, his eyes wide as the gears in his head were turning. She looked furious, disgusted, betrayed. She didn’t look at him as her son, but as something else. Her reaction was... weird. Something about it made you deeply uncomfortable. It didn’t sit right.

“You’re going to leave me just like your father... You’re just like him... I’ve tried so hard and you’ve become just like him, so callous and cruel...” She gasped in a sob and turned away from him, pushing him roughly to distance herself further. With trembling hands, he rested his hand on her shoulder, awkwardly patting her. Though his motions were kind his eyes were distant. There was a look on his face you’d never seen someone have before and you didn’t know how to place it.

It was dreadful, apprehensive, resentful. It was an amalgamation of every wretched emotion you could think of. Simultaneously, his gaze was unfixed and blank as he stared straight ahead in silence, his motions mechanical. You understood this was a common practice and for a moment she was placated. Then in an instant she turned on you.

“I know this was all you! You’re the one who’s putting ideas in his head! YOU are the one trying to take him away from me! He’s known you three weeks and I’ve known him his entire life, and I will not stand by and have you take him away from me!”

You flounder. What are you supposed to say? What could you say to that? In a way, yes, that is what was going on, but Art needed some freedom. He couldn’t stay cooped up in the house with his mother, enduring her games until she finally died. That’s what you were afraid of for him. You sputter out, “I-I’m not I... I’m sorry I didn’t mean... that’s not what’s going on here!”

“Excuse me? Is that back talk I hear? Didn’t your mother teach you to have more respect than that?” She is exasperated, eyes wide with a manic rage. She raised her hand to backhand you and instinctively you cover your face, closing your eyes. You hear a visceral smack but no impact comes. Hesitantly, you lower your guard and peek from behind your hands. Art had stepped between the pair of you and took the hard smack to the face that was meant for you. He stabilizes and his mother is taken aback by his action, and seemingly as well as her own.

She stands there, jaw firm as she rests her hand on his shoulder. It isn’t a kind gesture, it is one of dominance and control. She is taller and stronger than him and she is asserting that in a silent, determined motion. You can tell by his stiff demeanor her grip is like a vice.

“So that’s how it is.” She scoffed and nodded, jaw clenched in anger as she exhaled hard through her nose, “Fine. You can ‘go to school’, you can do whatever you want. I give up. If that’s the way you want to play it then fine! But you’ll see that I’m right. All they’re going to do is laugh at you.”

She observed him in silence before looking over to you, “I think it’s time for you to go home.”

Inwardly you agreed but you didn’t want to leave, you didn’t like the way she was holding his shoulder with her nails dug into his shirt. She was gripping so hard her hand was shaking, her whole body was, with some sort of outrage with seemingly no source. Then without warning she started crying again, as though she’d suddenly become aware of her terrible deeds.

Her grip went slack and she wrapped her arms around Art, shushing and cooing at him as she stroked the red place on his cheek where she had hit him, “Mommy’s so sorry, Arthur. You know I just want the best for you. You know how much I worry about you…”

She is rocking with him slightly as she tries to soothe him. She then looks to you over his shoulder and tearfully adds, “I’m sorry dear, please see yourself out and get home safe.”

With hesitation, you turn to leave, the sound of his mother’s hushed whispers and sobs trailing after and following you out the door. You stand on the porch a moment and listen to the crickets and katydids chirp and chatter. Though your and Art’s plan had ended successfully, the entire exchange left you feeling anxious and queasy. 

As you walk back to your house you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at the neighboring one. It was eerily silent and the lights had been turned out. You came to a stop and waited, observing the house as the streetlights came on. Art’s house had been swallowed in a darkness that even the bright, orange glow of the streetlights couldn’t penetrate.

Were they just sitting over there in darkness? Something wasn’t right. The house and interactions between he and his mother were strange, weird, and sort of creepy. There was something bad going on in that house, and now that Art would be joining you in school, you were going to find out.

[aita-blorbos]

Aita for feeding my son to his brother?

I (500+ f) am an alchemist who specializes in creating life and alien powers. I created my son (homunculus m) for a specific purpose and he didn't meet my expectations. So I fed him to my other son (dragon m )

[hello-friends9500]

[youth-liberation-june]

i just wanted to say, if even one of these apply to u, u are also valid 🫂

20 of 32

signs you were not doing well as a child:

you spent most of your time in your room/alone, not because you wanted to, but because it was the safest thing to do

you had to worry about whether you’d be able to eat safely that day, or if you’d be met with insults, attacks and/or being chased away from food

you wanted to inflict harm onto yourself and felt it was normal to want to harm you

you inflicted harm onto your body

you spent a long time having imaginary conversations in your head where you tried to prove somehow that you were not as bad as everyone make it seem, or that someone cares about you

you sank into obsessions in order to get thru whatever was going on

you felt as if you were barely making it thru, and if there was just one more thing you’d have to deal with, you wouldn’t be able to take it

you had wild fantasies about someone taking you away from all of this and taking you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be despised

you never felt at home, you felt like you didn’t have a home

you looked for every possible place to hide, in order to feel safe for a little while, both to keep your enjoyment secret and in case of a danger, you needed to have a hiding place

you were scared of all of your enjoyment being taken away the second people found out

you had to spend more time doing chores or taking care of others, than you could spend developing your own friendships and life

you felt inexplicably and endlessly lonely, you dreamed of one day having friends and it felt unreachable, impossible, like asking for too much

you never cried, or hid when you cried, feeling ashamed and weak

you over-indulged into a tv show, or a computer game, or a piece of media, to the point where it didn’t feel like you lived at all unless you were interacting with it

sometimes the insults and the shaming you endured got to you to the point where you believed things would be better if you didn’t exist

you were constantly trying to check if your parents actually cared for you or not, and took any tiny hint of attention, even negative attention, as a possible proof that they might care, but you could never know for sure which it was

you were scared of getting abandoned, getting kicked out of the house, getting left on the street, you even tried to plan what you would do if it happened

you had moments when you felt like the worst person to ever live

you thought about ending your life, to stop the pain 

you felt guilt and shame so large, you thought there was nothing in the world that could possibly redeem you

you ran to hide when your family member would come home, you couldn’t bear being seen in ‘their part of the house’ (living room, dining room)

you were reluctant to admit anything that was bothering you to your parents or caretakers, because you already knew they would either blame you, or use it against you

you spiraled into dark thoughts, all on your own, telling no one

you experienced feeling so numb and lifeless, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, and it scared you

you couldn’t imagine yourself going far in the future, or accomplishing much at all, you felt it would be a miracle if you’re alive later on

you tried to blame yourself for anything that had ever happened to you, trying to get control over it, trying to make it so it doesn’t happen again

you got into media that is restricted for children (extreme violence, gruesome horror and gore, sexually explicit and sexually violent materials) and you absorbed it and told no one about it

you endured being harassed or violated by a predator and told no one about it

you were constantly scared of what everyone else was thinking and saying about you

you were ashamed of things you did and said and worried endlessly that somehow you caused something bad to happen

you felt as if your worst fear would always, always come true

[motherofplatypus]

This is how many bullets they shot on a fucking kid.

[furiousgoldfish]

In order to become stronger, my child shall have no human rights, no parental figures in their life, no warmth or approval, no rest, no point of view, no physical or emotional safety, no right to voice an opinion, no experiences of happiness or being loved. They will only do what they are told, and they shall be treated as shit for every moment of their life; this will make them better.

If someone asks, this kind of thing is what made me abusive! But it will make my child better. This is so smart and not at all evil and enabling me to abuse my child because I want to.

[fnord888]

Child abuse is a big problem, so it's important that we don't let children communicate with adults except their parents and other official authority figures. Everyone knows the best way to prevent child abuse is to keep children isolated and ensure all their communications are controlled.

[glitter-stained]

Agreed! And personally when I say he should mess up, he should mess up greatly. This is probably because I'm starved for representation of abuse that doesn't portraits abusers as monsters evidently evil and full of ill intent, but I'm totally down for abusive Bruce Wayne. Yeah, sure, have the literal Batman berate and psychologically abuse his kids, neglect to address super important stuff in their background only for it to blow up in your face when they're confronted with it on the field, I'm even down for him to hurt his kids! As long as the narrative doesn't agree with it.

The thing is, with the narrative (and some takes from some very hardcore fans) is "this isn't actually abuse because you're missing key context". And then you look up and the context can be super complicated, with a whole lot of intense stuff going on, and it can be a very good explanation for what is happening, and it is still abuse. I think the issue is with the portrayal we usually have of it we see "abusive" as a personality trait, something really bad people do. It's safe, and comfortable, and it allows us to feel comfortable in our knowledge that because we're trying our best, we couldn't possibly accidentally become abusive. And on that ground, it's perfectly valid to refuse your childhood hero being some terrible monster who hits his kids! But the thing is, abuse isn't a personality trait, it's an action, and actions are extremely context dependent. If you're in an extremely high emotional situation, and trying to handle three different crises at once, and your child is being intrusive while you just need some space and you're mental ill and having an episode and you hit your child -that is still physical abuse. (And yeah, you can also abuse your adult children). And that means you have to acknowledge that it was abuse and it hurt them and you shouldn't have done it. What that doesn't mean is you have to define yourself as a horrible person and a failed parent.

The danger resides in two complementary courses of thinking that follow from these ideas :

1. abusers are awful and terrible. + i hurt my child, doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse. + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define myself just based on that action while ignoring the context = I don't fit my conception of an abusive person because of the context = the context means that I wasn't abusive = the context justifies taking actions that would be usually characterized as abusive => chronicization of abuse.

2. abusers are awful and terrible. + my parent hurt me doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define my parent, whomst I love and consider good, just based on that action while ignoring the context = they don't fit my characterization of abusive parents because of the context = the context means they weren't abusive = the context justifies actions that would otherwise be characterized as abusive = I wasn't actually abused = child doesn't speak up /avoids potential help/remains in the unsafe situation.

These are called justificative thoughts! And of course, we get similar thoughts in bystanders who know there's a lot of context going on, know the abuser personally etc. (They also work with intimate partner violence and even murder!) Examples include the all time famous "but he loves me!", "it's not what it looks like, she was only trying to keep me safe", "but what if I'm not stern enough and he grows up and become a criminal? He'll get hurt worse in prison, I'm protecting him!" "He can't possibly be an abuser, he's so kind! He was so sweet when he supported me after my mother died!"

The thing with the "you know I'm only doing this to protect you" line is we often know it as a very vicious manipulation technique. But it's not always the case! It's not necessarily a lie. Punitive abuse isn't (necessarily) practiced for the pleasure of hurting the child, it's a parent trying to raise their child and believing that this is the best way to teach them. That's why it's so important to acknowledge that good intentions in abuse exist and they don't justify it! Whether or not someone is lying to you, manipulating you or not when telling you this isn't what matters most: it's that right now, they feel hurting you is an acceptable way to get to that result, and it's still abusive, and you don't have to accept it just because they mean well.

So yeah, I'm pissed off when dc does exactly that, brushes Bruce being abusive aside and justifies it time and time again instead of addressing the abuse. I think the reason I personally want abusive Batman rather than a huge retcon is that a hero, someone who does so much good and tries and fights so hard to protect what he loves, someone like that failing so bad at parenting and then learning and becoming better, would have been revolutionary growing up. Still would be today, honestly. We need to humanize abuse, because we're gonna feel empathy towards abusers whether we like it or not and we have to choose if we avoid the discomfort it causes by using that empathy to justify not acknowledging the abuse, or treat abusers as human people that are capable of learning, that are sensitive to context (internal and external) and that can be, on many other fronts, perfectly good people. Instead, dc feeds us heaps of justificative thoughts like it's their personal mission because THEY have the same thoughts and don't want to contend with batman being "a dirty evil abuser" but they also love their edginess and shock value too much to stop writing conflict the only way they know how. And like, I know they're not gonna address it the way I want them to but then at least stop doing it- straight up stop portraying batman as abusive and justifying past abusive actions - and bury it under enough new, better batman/batfam stories that we can put this behind us as some kind of "edgy batman dark age". At this point that's all I'm asking, my expectations are so low but come on. I'm so tired.

The thing is that DC’s consistent choice to have Jason Todd blame himself for his own murder comes across less as maturity (the intent) and more like his self-esteem is so far down the toilet it’s been filtered through the Gotham water treatment facility and is currently being sprayed over Wayne Manor’s lawn.

[theconcealedweapon]

When you're autistic, it's impossible to miss how much society normalizes child abuse.

I could dedicate my entire life to studying how to interact with people and I'd still never master the social skills that young children are expected to have on command.

Say the wrong thing? That's disrespectful and you're punished. And you don't even have to actually say anything wrong. Pretty much anything you say can be considered "giving lip" if your parent wants some excuse to punish you. But if you say nothing, then you get punished for ignoring. You also have to calculate your response to their mind game quickly because taking too long to respond is considered ignoring. Also, if you're being wrongly accused of something, saying nothing is considered a confession. And even if you somehow manage to say exactly what your parent wants in exactly the correct tone, they'll still punish you for "sarcasm" or "not really meaning it".

[teaboot]

Adult ProTip, from a security professional: If a kid tells you, "My parents are gonna kill me / kick my ass / kick me out" for something relatively minor, don't respond with shit like "Really? ;) that sounds a little extreme, don't you think sweetie?" because that shit really does happen.

Instead, respond as though whatever threat they are afraid of is fully valid, and offer whatever you can do to help- ask if they believe they are in danger of being hurt in any way, and work accordingly.

If they're overreacting, they'll usually realize and dial it back, self-correct and begin thinking a bit more rationally.

If they're not overreacting, and the danger is real, then they'll need a level-headed adult in their corner, not another condescending authority figure who doesn't believe them.

[self-loving-vampire]

Problem #1 regarding child abuse is that a lot of people seem to struggle to imagine normal, respectable-looking parents and other authority figures ever doing it despite the statistics so instead they do the stranger danger panic and completely overlook some of the greatest threats.

Problem #2 is that even when people understand, even if in an abstract way, that parents can be abusive they just... don't seem to actually register that as something that can apply to real life. It's just hypothetical to them and doesn't actually guide their ideas of how to prevent child abuse.

Problem #3 is that even after overcoming the above biases a lot of people have a very narrow image of what abusive parenting is where they imagine like... people doing violent things basically out of sadism and without provocation. They don't seem to think it's "real" abuse if the victim did something that "justifies" punitive violence, like disobeying the parents.

In fact, most people think parents have a right to do a whole lot of awful things to their children beyond just hitting them, like violating their privacy, controlling their access to information, and deciding what/when/if they eat, among other things.