#and now the fandom is calling my comfort person an abuser

[collectiveofdumbasses]

I fucking hate the Wilbur soot fandom

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I (26, NB) dropped a long-term friend (23, not disclosing gender, I'll call them X) for being a proshipper, and now they're trying to get in the way of my other friendships.

A little more than a month ago, an old friend from when I was an itty bitty teen on the internet (we met when they were 12 and I was 15 or so) messaged me on twitter asking if we could share discord since they're more active on that platform, and they missed hanging out. Ok, no prob!! I missed talking to X and life was going kinda icky for me at the time. We exchanged discords and started talking more frequently, before we would talk through twitter dms maybe one day every few months, and we went from almost no contact to talking every single day. It was like being a teenager again; we still shared similar interests and we really fast clicked over old and new fandoms we were in. We talked about college and how they're starting to get the hang of their new job but needed support, talked about our family lives, etc., and in general I felt really comfortable and happy to be chatting again with someone I've known for so long. We were inseparable for weeks.

However... of course, as adults, and having known each other for YEARS, we started talking about fandom ships and fics we enjoyed. We didn't have the same taste in pairings, but that was okay. Until it wasn't anymore.

I shared my NSFW twitter with them, and they followed me. A few minutes later X told me, "I see you have "proship DNI in your bio, I just want to let you know that I am a pro-ship and enjoy some things in fandom that you might think is gross. I hope that's okay."

I was kind of weirded out, and told them that as long as they didn't like anything that would be criminal in real life, that's fine. They told me they *did* enjoy things in fiction that they "wouldn't condone in reality" and even though they "don't talk about it publicly" they still wanted me to know. For some reason. ?? Even though they KNOW that I have an irl history of abuse as a kid, they still told me this.

I was so fucking uncomfortable and really, really sad, and honestly I felt betrayed? I stepped away from my account for like, an hour before messaging them back and saying I didn't want to continue talking to them anymore. That I didn't know they were that kind of person and I'm not comfortable being their friend. I didn't read their response to me because I soft-blocked them.

While I was getting over that and trying to move on, a few days later I was talking to another mutual friend of ours when they asked if I was still friends with X. I got chills remembering how I broke off with them, and said no, we weren't talking anymore. That they were the kind of person that made me really uneasy and uncomfortable to be around. The mutual friend, I'll call R, said that X was "feeling kind of down about losing a friend recently" and talked about it in a discord server they share. X didn't mention my name but R wondered if it was me who dropped them since I was really touchy about boundaries online. I freaked out a little thinking about them talking about me, and asked what else they said, and R told me "not much, just that they felt sad but it was your choice in the end because you two were different" and I don't know why but it left a bad taste in my mouth. Were they trying to make people seem like I was the bad guy or something?? Idk.

I told R the reason why I stopped talking to X, and that X is a proshipper who likes things like inc*st and rape, and R wasn't as supportive as I thought he would be, saying that he understood how I felt but if X was being honest and open about their interests, it probably meant they trusted me and didn't want to "lie" to me. I don't understand how that's even relevant if X is a fucking proshipper. I don't want their trust in the first place if that's who they really are, and I felt betrayed that someone I knew for so long was hiding that for me until we were bonding again. R basically dropped it there and said "idk then" and I told him I was going to shut off my notifs for a bit. I really don't want to talk with him again right now especially since he didn't seem THAT bothered by X being a proshipper who's into really criminal shit.

Since then, friends of mine who are also friends with R (because he's a friend of X still, for some reason), haven't been replying to me as much anymore and I'm super sensitive to noticing these things, at first I told myself it was nothing, but there's an obvious decrease in our interactions. I can't help but think that X actually said bad stuff about me, and R didn't want me to know, or maybe X convinced R that I was a terrible person or something. I still haven't read X's reply to me because I genuinely do not want to interact with them ever again, but for the past few days I've been so angry and hurt by my other friend's actions that I can't help but want to blame them, since this all started when I left them.

AITA for dropping a friend because their interests made me SEVERELY uncomfortable? I don't know what to do.

What are these acronyms?

[pixelchills]

Chill's ramblings about the DCA fandom and personal feelings and issues towards TSAMS (both positive an negative):

(I'm writing this like an essay but treating it like a diary, so if I jump from subject to another, it is because I am just typing as the thoughts hit my head. Sorry for being so wordy.)

I simply feel like I need to write my thoughts down, so why not share them with you. Maybe you can validate my feelings or something, I don't know.

Intro:

So, oof, I got a fic rec from @thedenofravenpuff and I'm loving it so much I really wanna draw fan art for it...

But the problem is that it's a TSAMS fanfic and I've sworn to my name I'll never draw anything related to the show because that will make me engage with a part of the fandom I'm not comfortable with.

My biggest issue with TSAMS:

I have such complicated feelings towards the show and its fanbase and I do not wish to make my life and work more difficult because of it as it already is.

My own work and characters are already constantly being compared to TSAMS. When I first introduced Solar to my fic, he was constantly being referred to Eclipse from TSAMS. Now that the show had a character with THE SAME NAME, it has been even worse.

Dolldrop Moon has been compared to Lunar. Even though the dolldrops existed before the youtube channel was even created (and Lunar made his debut much later).

The biggest issue I've had has always been the fanbase, that takes the show as the canon for Sun and Moon from FNAF and uses it as an excuse to harass shippers like me because they think Sun and Moon are brothers.

I've first handedly seen the damage the fanbase has done to some of my friends who draw, or have previously drawn art for the show besides their own AUs and personal headcanons of Sun and Moon as lovers. I'm sorry to tag you, but @kriimhild and @fablekitty : I've seen how the immature side of the show's fans have treated you, I am so terribly sorry you've had to defend yourselves over and over again for things that were not meant to be mixed up.

I have posted some ideas of a possible Animutant Moon and Sun forming a polyamorous relationship with Solar in the future of "My Dear Daffodil" on my personal/adult Twitter account. Someone kept commenting on my posts that I was glorifying incest, because Sun and Moon were brothers and Solar was their cousin.

The post had "Animutant" in it. Not "TSAMS". These comments came from a person saying they were 19 in their profile. So it's not just kids who can't tell not every fanwork is about TSAMS. It's starting to be some adults too.

Vice versa I've had another person comment on my very clearly SFW Twitter how they're following me because I am an adult artist who draws TSAMS incest. I have never drawn TSAMS art. I ship Sun and Moon, but they're never related with family bond, because I love presenting them as lovers.

Why I ship Sun and Moon:

Because I am a hopeless romantic. I love romantic love. Every single story I write is always about love.

The only exception to this is the Poppy Playtime comic I am doing. But even then, I was originally planning for a romantic love between Dogday and the Player. Yet, I decided to leave it, and keep the relationship open for any type of representation the reader themselves will prefer.

I used to watch The Sun and Moon Show when it first started airing. I loved their playthroughs. I had a big distaste for them calling each other brothers, as well as some of the first "lore" videos they had. My biggest issue at the time was how Moon treated Sun, though. As someone who grew up with an abusive sibling, it sometimes just hit a bit too hard at home.

But it got better after Eclipse and Lunar appeared. Moon was more caring, and I started to really like his character development. There was one episode where Sun explained to Lunar that he and Moon had simply just "decided" to be brothers, despite not having a canonical relationship.

This actually made me really happy. Because the Old Moon was aroace, the love he felt was simply never meant to be romantic, but platonic. And by making Sun his brother by choice clearly indicated that Sun was always the one he loved the most - in a way that was suitable for aromantic person like him.

And it really made me enjoy the show for a while. Sun is my favourite character, and despite not always liking the way the show presents him, I always feel so much love for him, no matter the AU he is in. So I loved that Moon loved him more than anything, even if it was just platonic. Because I've always been under the impression that the canon Moon loves Sun, and is only under a virus to protect him. For me, the best part of any Sun and Moon AU is to know that Sun is the most important thing to Moon.

Why I stopped watching TSAMS:

And then that Moon I had really started to like, who loved Sun more than anyone else but just platonically, died.

It hurt so much I simply stopped watching the show. I've watched a few episodes here and there after that, but I am having a hard time liking the show the same as I did before.

Partially it's because of the fanbase. Partially it's because I don't find the lore very interesting and some of the stuff a bit repetitive. Partially it's because I am scared to see Sun eventually crumble up into madness, because he has been through so much.

I like the New Moon. He is funny and nice, what I've seen. His relationship with Solar has been interesting, and I genuinely hoped they would've been able to take the romantic route after Moon said he wasn't sure if he was aroace anymore. But as I said, I've only watched a few episodes after the old Moon died, so I don't know either of their characters that much to form any strong opinions about them. I just listen to the Monty and Puppet podcast once in a while and get a little inside to some of the lore that has been happening.

But hey, at least there's fanfics. Which is why I am rambling here today.

Fanfics:

It is a rare treat to find Sun x Moon fanfics that aren't simply just porn, or do not include reader inserts. So since my romance-filled brain needed something to fill the void, I've started reading some TSAMS fics with romance (that wasn't between Sun & Moon) and plot in them.

I know Solar was settled to be a "cousin" to the weird family tree of TSAMS. But I simply crave for Solar and New Moon to be at least queerplatonic. Solar is not from their dimension, no matter how much they decide they're 'cousins' it doesn't make him their real cousin or relative because they're not from the same world.

Sun and Moon are brothers but they technically gave birth to Eclipse, who then created Lunar so Eclipse is technically Lunar's parent and then brother and Lunar is Sun and Moon's brother and... do you see what I'm trying to say?

The family tree is so complicated that I don't think I'm a horrible person for shipping Moon and Solar and reading fics about them. Tell me if I am wrong though.

The FIC that is making me question everything:

So Puffy recommended this fic by @theinfamousdoctorf , "Eclipse Meets His Match".

I'm currently on chapter 40, and I am genuinely surprised how much I am liking this fic so far. It got everything; redemption and character growth, the representation of Sun as the good, glowing angel he is in my mind (for canon, and every AU. He is always perfect in my eyes I love him can you tell lol), slow-burn romance, drama, excitment, plot, jokes and funny moments... even if there are a lot of mentions of sex and sexual pleasure, it doesn't feel out of the place as there is so much more to it too.

Eclipse's redemption to become better and realising he is in love with Sun has been so interesting to follow. Sun deserves the love. I love when Sun is getting loved. I literally ship him with every other animatronic in the games and love it when people ship him with their self-inserts and OCs. Because I love him so much I want him to be loved in every possible universe he is in.

Even bigger bonus to this fic is the second pairing, Solar and Moon, which I already opened up about above. I don't know how much the fic is truthful to the canon lore of the show, but I wish to pretend this fic is the canon now /hj.

I love the characters and how they're written. I love the descriptions of their flaws and hopes and dreams. How vulnerable they can get. How closely they stick together. And as an appreciation for making me tearful and excited about fanfiction in such a long time, I would hope to be able to gift the author some fan art for their fic.

But I've sworn to not draw anything for the show. For my own good. I've got too many awful comments already from the fans of the show despite never doing any art for it. I am just scared it will turn things worse.

End words:

I don't know if creating a new alias would be the right choice. So my main name/account would be spared from the confusion that the show's fans seem to stirr into, where one tsams artwork turns all of the artist' work into tsams.

I don't care if the art style would be recognisible. The artist would be me, but not PixelChills. Just so I could gift something to the author of this fic that is currently saving me from the boredom of being unable to write my own.

Thank you.

(This text has been typed on my phone, so pardon for any typos).

-Chill

[cupcraft]

This you can rb.

One thing I also wanted to say is I don't think some people in this fandom really understand how harmful it is to platform abusers/to defend them/to make claims how victims should act. It's been unsafe in mcytblr since the dream allegations. 100%. I remember the names of every person that said awful awful vile shit and to my knowledge they still do (though I've stopped checking by a long shot now. It wasn't healthy for me to see if people would change their mind or apologize).

There are many people in mcytblr, in any space really, that are victims. Victims read that shit you say, victims internalize that shit you say, victims remember the shit you say. Victims will not come forward because of the things you say. Victims lose trust and support networks because of the things you say. Your internet behavior has consequences and very real and very dangerous harm. I don't care if your fav "turned out to be innocent" (and in a lot of cases, that's not true actually but that isn't the point of my post). The things you said that were victim blaming still hurt people. It still hurts people now.

And so with the Shubble stuff, when I see like long twitter threads proving Wilbur's innocence. When I see replies on Stellae's posts about Illumina/stu picking apart her story. When I see the way people judge victims on how they behave and call them irrational/reckless/irresponsible/lying because X behavior. When I see people forcing victims to divulge their abuse and still harm them because they didn't bring up critique of abusers in the "right way" (thinking about Niki). When people ask victims to bare the responsibility for abusers instead of others around them (and instead of the actual accused abuser) (thinking of how people treated tubbo during the drm allegations when he is a grooming victim himself). When I see people be ablelist as a means of defending abusers, not realizing there are many of us victims who are disabled too, and there are many disabled people who are harmed by abelism like that. When I see this stuff I feel unsafe. When I see this stuff I know exactly what kind of person you are, to put your comfortability above all else. To put your fav above victims. To treat victims as drama/things you can doxx and pull apart and for entertainment. It's sick.

Mcyt as a fandom needs to do better. It always has but especially now. This is a plea to do better. To learn how to be compassionate. To think about more than yourself.

[autumn0689]

Lester Papadopoulos is a comfort character to me. I’ve been a huge Percy Jackson fan for years now, and I’ve loved many characters (Grover, Nico, Leo, Percy, etc) and when I first read TOA I loved it, but after rereading it…

I fell in love with Lester, this caring and complex character who had many layers to him, that came off as selfish, and yet just so happened to be one of the most selfless characters in the book.

He’s caring, he’s a former god, he’s selfless, he pees himself regularly, he loves his children, he drowned his ex that one time, he is a god of many things, he has had many lovers. He has so many aspects to him that makes him so interesting.

He has a redemption arc as he realizes that he has made mistakes, but also realizes that he has been abused by Zeus, that it most likely influenced how he view things, and how he may have picked up toxic behaviors from Zeus. He learns to be more human, which is such a beautiful arc to see him go through.

He cares SO MUCH about others. He grieves for Jason and Crest and Heloise and so many other people. He tried to sacrifice himself many times and has many heroic qualities, but he is an unreliable narrator and sometimes what he says doesn’t reflect what he does.

His and Meg’s relationship is one of my favorite friendships in the books. It feels like it’s the two of them against the world at times. Meg cares so much for him while also calling him out on his bad actions (like when they were on Sutro Tower) and Lester cares so much for her as he realizes that she has been abused, that she needs help, and that he wants to help her separate from Nero’s influence, that he is so proud of her for standing up to Nero. They both form such a strong bond with each other and I just- I love them!

He is also absolutely hilarious. I find myself laughing as he is just- so snarky sometimes? He also sometimes know random things? (Like the Goddess of Sewers Cloacina) He is also funny when he has no knowledge on how human things work (like not knowing the price of Tater Tot’s)

He also gets anxious and freaks out and cries and he just feels. He gets happy and laughs and gets sad and laments. He gets flashbacks and clearly has trauma but doesn’t let that excuse his bad actions as he feels guilt for his actions. He can also be quite harsh on himself, blaming himself often and sometimes projecting that onto others (like him saying that Piper is blaming him for Crest’s death??) He is such an emotional character and I love him for that.

I love whenever he gets his godly strength as it starts with small things and then it gets to the point that he can create fire with his hands just by simply mentioning cauterizing a wound and breaking Nero’s fasces and having enough strength to drag Python into the Underworld and is strong enough to hold on just enough to save himself from falling into Tartarus. He is such a strong person who has an incredible pain tolerance.

There are many other things that I love about Lester Papadopoulos/Apollo. I think I can positively say that he is my favorite PJO character. I often reread TOA more than the other books. I love the story and how dark it can get while also exploring the themes of how abuse affects you.

I just- I love Meg and Apollo. I need for fanfic of them!! I need more content of them! Their friendship is so underrated, so when I see people make fanfic of them I get so happy!

I also love the community. The fan-artists and the fanfic makers and anyone who just writes long posts, like me, are so talented and is honestly the best fandom I’ve been in.

I hope the PJO show becomes popular so that more people can read these amazing series. I hope there will be a day that TOA gets adapted, and even if it doesn’t, I still have the audiobooks to go back to.

Thanks TOA fandom, for still going strong, even years after the books ended and new books have come out and are still making fanfic about them. It feels like the books have never ended, like the TOA books are still going on and are still making posts.

I’m so happy to be part of such a passionate fanbase.

Anyways if anyone is willing to offer any good fanfics then let me know!

[lexlightning2002]

~Your eyes are a science I can't explain, a thought I cannot describe, it's just pure happiness~

Well, It's been a long time since I posted something here, but after a break, I am back!

I'm really sorry for being inactive, but the last months were really hard for me and a lot of stuff happened and is still happening. For this, please go on reading under the Cut, it would mean a lot to me.

I hope you all are well and I hope this fandom is still alive! 💚💜

CW: I am going to talk about animal abuse, losing a pet and grief. If you are not comfortable with this, please skip🌸

The last months has been really hard. As some of you might know, I do horse riding in my free time and it's my second passion besides art. There has been a lot of troubles at the stable lately and I am the kind of person who takes everything by heart.

I always was very uncomfortable being at the stable, because I felt everyone judged me and talked behind my back. The anchor was my horse, which sadly didn't belong to me, she belonged to the riding facility as she was a lesson horse. I was the person who cared for her. She was my heart horse I believe, and last month, she suddenly behaved differently, as if she was traumatized.

There have been incidents at our facility where horses have been beaten and shouted at just to let u know

I got the job to get her trust back, as she was used around children. And it got better.

And two days later she was brought to the animal clinic because she developed a high fever. The vets couldn't save her, and three days later she had to be euthanized.

I couldn't say goodbye to her and I'm still crying everyday. She was something special, maybe I can share some pictures of her at some point, to show you how great she was.

I am grieving her so hard and it's very difficult for me to find happiness again.

I don't know if you ever lost a pet, but it hurts so much, and it left me in a hole full of nothing.

I am slowly recovering, but I'm not sure if I will ever get over her. I should go to therapy, but I have no energy for writing an email or making a call.

Speaking about art, this year will be my final year at art academy, I will hopefully graduate in September. For that, I need much time for my project, meaning, I won't have much time for making fanart anymore. If you want, I could do a poll about sharing my other art as well.

It's a hard life atm, but art keeps me busy.

But sometimes you just need a break, and I needed it now.

I hope you understand this, and I am so thankful for everyone who stayed and joined <3

Much love and stay safe💜💚🧡🩵

[twopoppies]

I don’t even know how to begin this, neither if it’s gonna make any sense at all. But I feel like I have to get it off my chest and scrolling through your blog made me feel like this is the right place to do so.

I never had any friends in the fandom. When I joined in 2017, barely in high school, they had already gone on hiatus. There were no more OT5 concerts to look forward it was all just videos and songs and memories of others that I got to enjoy and learned to cherish for myself.

Through the years since, there have been times where One Direction and all their solo work has pulled me up when I was down. Times when loneliness was overcome by watching hours of concerts videos and compilations on youtube - and they always made me smile. And also times where other things in life had more priority and I didn’t check into the fandom for months at times.

The first time I realised that what seemed to be the best time for us as fans was the absolute worst for them as artists, was when I watched that podcast interview of Liam a few years back. It was heartbreaking hearing it, and maybe that was also one moment where I realised I was no longer a naive teenage girl but on my way to adulthood.

I haven’t kept up with Liam or the other boys this year as much, but I always believed that whenever I really needed them, the boys will just always be there - maybe my mind immortalised them some way or other.

Seeing these news now, broke me on a level I didn’t expect and can’t even really explain. Hearing the accusations towards Liam and the man he seemingly became I don’t even know how to grieve.

How DO you grieve someone that brought you joy but at the same time acted in ways you just can’t condone with your values and beliefs?

Maybe what I am grieving the most is the lost chance of accountability and change. Mental illness is no joke and I know that a persons best version and worst version of themselves can be completely different. He should have gotten the chance to at least try again, to go to rehab and get better - to heal.

Before I went to bed tonight I tried to be brave and told my dad cause I just didn’t know how to handle it. I talked about Liams addiction and alcoholism and abuse, but I also talked about the music and the fact that I just feel like someone is missing and I don’t even know if I’m allowed to feel that way.

I’ll forever be grateful that all my dad did, was take me into his arms and comfort me. He didn’t laugh or called it a teenage obsession or said that it’s not right to grieve for someone who you didn’t even know personally.

All he said was that it’s okay to grieve cause it just showed that you cared. You can grieve for lost chances and for what a person once meant to you, even if they might not be quite that same person anymore (even if it seems a little selfish, grieving is always personal).

I hope he’s better now and doesn’t feel any of the pain he’s very obviously been holding in for however many years. My heart goes out to the people who really knew him - his family, his son, his friends and girlfriend, and the boys.

Sleep easy and rest in peace Liam 🕊️

Your dad sounds like a very sweet man. I'm glad he was there for you in the way that you needed him to be.

I don't know the answer to your questions, but I feel similarly that one of the things I'm most upset about is that he died before he had a chance to heal and make amends.

Everyone deserves a redemption arc, and I'm just angry that he wasn't allowed to have his.

[murfpersonalblog]

FrankFreezy on Victim-Blaming in the IWTV Fandom (IWTV 2x1 - 19:09 - 25:34)

If I see or sense something that is problematic...I'm going to say something, and one of those things that led me to this whole thought process of speaking about victim blaming is because my whole thing with Lestat in Season One is like I have said countless times:

I'm judging and speaking on these characters based on what I am seeing in front of me.

And a lot of people have spoiled; a lot of people have hinted; a lot of people have suggested that: "Don't worry, when you get to Season Two everything will make sense!"

And I'm happy for that! I'm happy to grow and evolve...with the story as I go. I'm a patient man, and I'm a man that likes being told I am wrong, in the sense that I'm open to learn, I'm open to embrace new point of views.

However, I'm also a man who calls sh*t when I see it, or calls some kind of characters and behaviors when I see it.

Now, something I want to talk about victim blaming is: If someone SA'd someone, or abused someone, and your first comment or your initial comment is: "Hey man, we need to look deeper into this abuser's past! We need to check out their trauma and what made them do this!" Then I'm going to say something about that, because those things are valid! Mental health is important, and knowing how a character got from Point A to Point B is very valid.

But the part about victim blaming that comes up for me is: Why is the abuser's past or trauma the thing being centered in this moment??? Doesn't it make more sense that the person that is going through it or the person who is abused--their pain, their current trauma that we're seeing Lestat inflict in front of our eyes--should be centered first?!

When that person is cared for and taken care of and understood, yeah, we can run back then we can run back and check out Lestat's past or why this person got from here to here, you know?

...Because if I just got abused, and in the midst of it the first thing I'm hearing people asking is: "Oh, the person that abused me, they've had a hard past, and was hurt, people hurt people!" And all these conversations that comes around trauma, generational trauma? I would feel so neglected and messed up! Because I just went through some traumatic sh*t, and my abuser is being centered!?

...Everyone has been telling me we're just seeing Louis' point of view. Even in Episode 7, Armand told Molloy that "You only know half the story, you're going to apologize when you hear everything." I'm SO eager to hear Lestat's side and everything.... Let let me see all the nuances. And I'm happy to see how it changes my mind and all this.

But...almost every time I am cautioned or I am nudged gently in the "right direction" to look at Lestat's reasons for what he's doing, often times it never comes side-by-side with also empathizing or centering Louis, or the people who are being abused.

Like, I just posted Episode [Four] on YouTube, the episode where Claudia did her first kill [on Charlie], unfortunately, and how Lestat was after it happened. He wasn't very comforting; he forced her to look at the body, and all these things, and that's a child! Vampire or not!... I had some thoughts towards that, I'm like: "Yo, she just went through something very traumatic, and you do this!?"

And there was a bunch of folks that were on the whole: "He was training her to be what she was supposed to to be!"

...She did some self harm at the ending of that episode, and in a lot of those comments, none of...the trauma she's actively going through was centered. It was just more: "So, this is Lestat's reason for doing this;" and it gave me victim blaming vibes a lot.

...Especially with Louis, like: "Oh yeah, he was a flawed man before Lestat changed him. He agreed to it, he consented into it!"

I'm not seeing them being centered in that case. I am seeing justifications for why Lestat is doing that.

....I'm just seeing some thoughts, patterns, that I feel from my POV are like low key problematic.

-- Already LOVE season 2 🧡| Interview With The Vampire 2x1 | Reaction & Commentary - FrankFreezy (19:09 - 25:34)

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Lol, why is canon so important to some people?

Think about it dude. What is canon? Canon is a book series written by one person (who btw is a terf but let’s not talk about that now). One woman.

What is fanon? Fanon is a bunch of people all coming up with new thought and ideas that they love. Fanon is a group of people who saw their opportunity to get representation in fiction, whether it’s trans representation, aroace representation or bipolar disorder representation. It’s beautiful, because these people might have never seen their disorder, their gender identity, their sexuality, their skin condition or their body type be represented ever before. Because people like jkr exist, and they write stories excluding people they don’t respect, and that is horrible. In the marauders fandom, young kids with a love for writing get their chance. Young people who have a curiosity and imagination like no others get to put it into their own works. People get to discuss, people get to bond over their favourite headcannons and characters. I find it so beautiful. Or perhaps you’re just one person. A young child who has no happiness in this world, but finds comfort in their favourite ship or their favourite character, a character they headcannon with their own skin colour or sexuality. It brings them comfort, and that’s all that matters. Young children don’t deserve to feel guilty about this. Perhaps they already are abused at home and yelled at 24/7, when suddenly grownups on the interest start shaming them for their favourite ship, their favourite dynamic, their favourite fanfiction. Is that fair? No, it isn’t. Not in the slightest.

So sure, go ahead. Enjoy canon. Enhoy whatever makes you happy. Enjoy reading what’s already written. You don’t have to use your own imagination if you don’t want to. But please, don’t shame others for their favourite ships, characters or headcannons. If you can enjoy the fandom and find peace in it, why can’t everybody else?

The words of one woman, a transphobe btw, against the words of a teenager, lonely in this world and lonely with the struggles of being the seemingly only loving person in a world of transphobes etc. What is canon, really? Maybe my headcannons are canon to me?

Edit: And for the love of God, people don’t deserve to be called blood purists, zionists or anything like that for liking Regulus, Jegulus, the Slytherin skittles etc. That is a very close minded thing to say. Slytherin is not all about being a pureblood and above everyone else. Jkr did a mistake there, describing all the qualities of the house and then proceeding to use Slytherin as the house for all the evil, fucked up, ugly characters she didn’t like. And I am far from a Zionist. I am against discrimination of all sorts, I feel very strongly and have strong opinions about things like these, I’m against racism, queerphobism etc. Keep in mind, I am a minor and I already know more about this cruel world than most people my age that I’ve ever met. I’m a loving person. I have struggles of my own. Being called a Zionist, transphobe etc. is EXTREMLY triggering for me. To think that there are people out there, on this planet, thinking such things about me and believing I have beliefs like that, is extremely upsetting. Especially since they don’t know shit about me. I can ship whoever I want and like whatever character I like without being an arsehole.

[onesidedradiostatic]

Val has broken Vox's screen multiple times in anger stop acting like they're cute and healthy with "equal power dynamics" he's a rapist abuser that doesn't just go away💀

oh man I did not come in here to get into discourse. first of all, I haven't been in the fandom for long, my main source of content is from the canon show itself. from what I've heard, those instagram stories are non-canon now and their dynamic in the show itself is a bit different. secondly, yes, val is a rapist abuser, and never once did I deny that, but you have to remember that vox is also NOT A GOOD PERSON. I actually would like to bring attention to this post specifically regarding that. but to put it short, he enables val's actions, his very introduction involves a product that lets you PEEP ON NEIGHBOURS. I do not in fact think they are cute, wholesome and healthy. they're both horrible people. the reason I call their power dynamic balanced is because of their interactions in episode 2, vox isn't shown to be afraid of val at all, he just acts annoyed, and isn't afraid of shouting at him to his face or saying "fuck you" to him, val does not react negatively to this either. val doesn't hold power over him, there is no clear power imbalance compared to val and angel. from what I've seen so far personally, I do not view vox as being a victim of val's. he's capable of using manipulative language to get val to stop what he was about to do, pinches his cheek with zero fear, and unremorsefully offers to call up the lowest earners for val to shoot.

if you disagree? that's fine. if you don't feel comfortable with the ship? that's also perfectly fine! here are things you can do:

- filter #voxval

- filter #staticmoth

- block me

I state in my bio that staticmoth is a ship I like, you are warned of that the moment you come to my page, even if my main thing is one-sided radiostatic, and no, it doesn't mean I support or deny val's actions in ANY WAY, he's a horrible person. absolutely. I hope he gets what's coming to him in the show, I hope angel gets to be free and FAR away from him. but for now, I find staticmoth as a ship intriguing, because they're both horrible people but are capable of having a more balanced dynamic with one another compared to their victims, maybe it'll change in the future and I won't like it anymore, who knows?

[roguelov]

okay I know we all love romantic DreamxHobxYoung!Immortal!Reader, BUT I saw a tiktok recently that gave me an idea. the video said something like "immortal character taking in magical character who has been rejected by their family and community and becoming their parental figure"

maybe it's a situation similar to jjk, where geto adopted those 2 girls who were being abused by their village for being sorcerers.

they don't have to be an actual kid though, they could be older since they'd still be wayyy younger than dream and hob lol

just dream and hob taking in this person who's been rejected by everyone and taking care of them and stuff (platonic soulmates maybe?)

(I have like a whole story about this in my head, but it includes yet another fandom so I'll leave it at this😅🤭)

Oh my god my heart my baby heart loves this so much 🥹🥰 found family? I’m sold I’m here for it

You were ostracized by your community by a young age, you were gifted with an affinity for magic and labeled a menace. You drifted along by yourself for a while mostly surviving until you crossed paths with a gentleman with a kind smile. Hob instantly knew you were in need, you had this broken and almost feral look in your eyes. It reminded him of his time after his family died and his town believed him to be a witch.

After some coaxing, he brought you to the New Inn and gave you a warm meal. And since then you always found yourself there. Maybe at first you tried to stay away, believing you are a monster. Your magic was wild, chaotic, and impossible to control no matter the effort you put into learning it. However, you enjoyed Hob’s company and he made you feel safe. And eventually, you met Dream.

Maybe you never told Hob and Dream your secret and past, but one day while in the Dreaming your magic spills out. It nearly toppled over the castle, and you tried to flee afterwards. But, Dream and Hob found you in Fiddler’s Green. Tears streaming down your face, you blurted out everything. You told them what people called you, your eternal life doomed to be alone given your cursed magic, how -

Hob will immediately cut you off, “No one is cursed to be alone.”

Hob and Dream will pour into how they will not leave you, how you aren’t alone anymore, and how they will do everything they can to help you.

“The Dreaming can be your home, you are always welcomed here,” Dream will say.

And you will stay. You will stay because you love it here and everyone - Dream, Hob, Lucienne, Matthew, Marv, Cain and Abel, Goldie - are your family.

Now here’s some snippets I think would be lovely:

Dream and Hob trying to help you control your magic but results in them being knocked around (more so in the beginning)

Dream will be your biggest teacher and supporter when learning your magic and may find some artifacts to help control (maybe he’ll make you a ruby necklace to contain some of your magic)

Hob will share stories of his past both the good and the bad

If you want a normal life in the Waking, Hob will gladly let you work at the inn

If you have nightmares especially of your past, Dream will be there to comfort you and apologize not meaning to upset you

Once you can control your magic, you will excitedly show off to Dream and Hob and they are so happy and proud of you

Dream and Hob will see a new light in your eyes that makes their heart feel so at ease

Just Dream and Hob becoming your home and them uplifting you constantly

[plague-of-insomnia]

I ship sebaciel but I only like their dynamic, in my head I imagine an adult Ciel and I only read fanfics when Ciel is way over 18 and can decide by himself/not be manipulated. I was raped when I was 15, I could never ship something like that. But anti pro shippers never bother to see the nuance. I'm afraid if I start publicly shipping it, people will call me a pedo lol Also I think that the ones who like the age gap still can't be compared to real pedos who consume lolicon/ realistic drawings who REALLY resemble children and explicitly are in a setting of a child being molested. I see incels doing that, and the kuro fandom is mostly women.

Hi, anon. Sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. I had COVID a couple weeks ago and now have bronchitis and i just ran out of gas to formulate a response I felt this ask merited.

First of all, I’m sorry that happened to you. I hope you’ve been able to get past it enough that it doesn’t affect your daily life too badly 🫂.

Sadly, a lot of antis act as if they’re the only ones who have been victims of (sexual) abuse, and that any survivor who doesn’t behave the way they do either must be lying or “deserved” what they got— which is absolutely awful to do to anyone.

As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re not a monolith. Some survivors find rape play (whether role play or in fictional works) helps them move past their trauma because it helps them to have the control they didn’t have as victims. But others find it triggering and upsetting and not helpful at all— and that’s valid too.

I personally don’t ship sc anymore mostly because I just don’t click with Ciel in the ship the way I do with other pairings. I also personally get very very uncomfortable with some underage depictions. For example, there was a fantastic sc fan fic a few years ago that I had to stop reading. It is one of the best written works in the fandom, but it just made me so uncomfortable (it’s underage) I had to stop.

But what did I do? Did i leave the author an angry message saying I was not gonna read it? No, ofc not. I just clicked away.

So if for you, you need situations in which you feel Ciel can fully consent/is in control to feel comfortable and happy then that’s perfectly valid! There’s no one “right” way to ship anything, and you have to look out for yourself first. Because we come to fandom to have fun and escape, so no need to delve into things you don’t like or that make you uncomfortable.

Antis are incapable of seeing these kinds of nuances, or realizing that purposefully consuming content that upsets you is self harm.

Sadly, if you openly ship sc (or even aren’t absolutely against it) you may get some hate. I know I have gotten my share, and it’s *always* about Ciel, no matter how I’ve depicted other characters or what ages they are in my stories. But I’ve also gotten hate for being a fujoshi (misgendering me at that) more than once, and some of it even before I joined the fandom… for my original work.

My point is that people are gonna attack you if they’re gonna attack you���. if you’re not willing to take that risk by being public about your ship that’s valid too. I definitely get how exhausting antis can be and if you’re just wanting to stare at your blorbos for a bit you don’t wanna be fighting of negativity left and right too.

It’s a shame that antis have started using the word pedo as a word for anyone they dislike, devaluing it, but the real shame imo is that they refuse to see that actual CSEM is bad not because it’s gross or immoral but because it harms actual children, who grow up to be adults with trauma.

I think it’s very important to distinguish actual CSEM (or “fictional works” that were intentionally modeled off real CSEM) from anything that’s purely fictional. Because you can never really know why someone made something or why someone likes something.

I write about child abuse, sexual and not, a lot because I find it very therapeutic, but someone might read my works and may draw other, completely erroneous conclusions about me and my motives.

I honestly think a huge chunk of the kuro fandom is nonbinary, but I don’t really know the demographics. I’m sure they’re slightly different depending on if you’re looking at the western or eastern fandoms…

But women can be toxic just like anyone else. Some of the absolute most vile antis I’ve seen identify as female.

Ultimately, I think that the best thing to do with the fandom (or any fandom, really) is to curate your experience. Block accounts that trigger you or don’t vibe with you. Find like-minded friends to chat with in private, so you don’t have to worry about strangers hopping on what you say. Filter tags and use apps if you need to.

I think it’s a shame that antis are so vocal in the fandom and have divided it so much. As a multishipper not much into sc, I have definitely felt that fracture more than some others, since sadly too many non-sc shippers think they need to scream about how icky that ship is and be jerks when we could just ignore sc entirely and enjoy the other ships we like instead together?

But the no matter what antis claim, sc shippers have always been and will always be the column that holds the fandom up, and you either need to make peace with it or learn to ignore it.

🫶

My ask box is open for anyone who doesn’t feel comfortable being open about their love for kuro but would like to squee over it/the new series with someone who doesn’t mind listening :)

[hermitcraftx]

I agree with your post about hermit fans in regard to things being very popular. I’ve seen more people being angry and annoyed about scarian in the last six months than people celebrating it. Not tagging shipping is shit but it’s better than harassing people. I don’t know what was put in the water but something changed drastically and I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s seen it.

IT'S FUCKING INSANE! This fandom used to be so positive and welcoming and overall way more pleasant than some... other MCYT fandoms, but now??? I can't log on without seeing untagged negative interpretations in the main tags, can't express an opinion without getting anons calling me heterosexual sympathizers and hoping that I die, everyone has turned their back on everything that used to make this fandom really... fun? Like, I don't tag ON MY BLOG, but usually I don't maintag my shipping posts, and if I do, I tag the ship name so people can filter it.... I don't maintag duo names. What the fuck happened to make everyone so- miserable. Anons are probably going to be permanently off for me, too many people comfortable with their opinions and not comfortable with mine and desperately needing to tell me that.

And like- look. I get not liking interpretations. Personally I'm not a fan of the Double Life cheating arc because of how abusive and out of character people made Grian be, and I had to avoid ao3 for a bit because of that and filter the fucking tags. Same thing with found family dynamics. Just because you don't like something doesn't make it "overrated and popular" and just because you don't like something doesn't make it immoral or unethical either!!! People have to make everything a moral standpoint nowadays and it's really exhausting-

But that's a tirade. All over all the confessions blogs there's "scarian is overrated" despite Grian having nearly 10mil subscribers and most of them being on YouTube and considering all the hermits friends or family truthing them. Yes, there is more shipping than before- that's because Hermitcraft season 8 made it very obvious that the people on the SMP and the people IRL are very different, and it's no longer considered RPF. None of the real hermits died via moon explosion, ZombieCleo often says she's doing "lore", they make different skins, even GRIAN acknowledges that he's acting and playing a part with the permit office. Despite all that, there's STILL wars on shipping and people insisting that we're shipping real people, I fought this war on the DSMP side of things and it's SO TIRING.

DND podcast listeners, do you ship the people playing the characters? NO!!!!! Unless you do, in which case, have fun with that. I don't really care about RPF and I filtered the tags for it a long time ago, so maybe they do do that.

Every other day I see "Third life is overrated" "Last life is overrated" (LAST LIFE IS OFTEN THE LEAST FAVORITE SEASON I SEE PEOPLE SAY!), "the life series is overrated" "the cactus ring is fucking stupid" "they left the desert but we didn't" "no, THIS interpretation of scarian is bad and wrong" and like... guys. Guys. Fandom is supposed to be fun. It is not supposed to be a full time job. It is not supposed to be moral or ethical and you shouldn't feel the need to police shit. Jesus Christ, every other month there's a new fad that tumblr users flock to and once it's over everyone goes "EWWW THAT WAS LAME AND OVERRATED AND I NEVER LIKED IT ANYWAY" like.... I promise you cannibalism as an allegory for love is not mainstream you are just on Tumblr.

Like Good God. If it's so bad here go to Twitter. I'm sick of all the complaining and misery and hatred and I miss when things were fun- people are so scared of being cliche that they don't want to write things that they enjoy. Where are the coffee shop aus???? Where are the fun silly things??? Where are the 100k grimdark fics with worldbuilding??? Wheres the 500k fics that aren't even about the same characters anymore but that we love just the same??? Where are the forums and people talking to each other in comments and meeting each other that way??? Where are the roleplay servers?????? What are you all doing??????

People are scared of being judged. They want to do what everyone else is doing. They don't want to be cringe or cliche and every day I see a "cringe culture is dead" post and then someone making fun of another part of fandom, an antithesis to their previous statement. They don't want to be late to things, either. Who cares if Last Life was a couple years ago? Draw the fanart anyway!

I'm scared. Maybe I'm just old, but every post I see I notice that I get maybe a 10th in reblogs of what I do in likes, and I don't even post my art or fics to this site. Every post is like that. More and more people only like posts and they die, unseen, by everyone. More and more people misuse archive of our own's functions, treating it like it has some algorithm, when it doesn't, and it never has and hopefully never will. I see fic reuploads to "gain traction" (not how it works) and people reaching out to find RP partners (breaking TOS) and all sorts of other shit on both sites and it fucking horrifies me. I'm not even that old- I'm eighteen, and I can already tell how fandom has changed for the worst for everyone. Fandom used to be a community. Not consumption.

It's just... sad. Old fandom had PLENTY of fucking problems, and we have problems here too, but at least the positives outweighed the negatives. It's so... mean here, now. Even the happy things are mean-spirited. People treat it as if certain people have invaded this fandom space, spreading horrible opinions and ruining it for everyone, but the truth is is that shipping is always going to be a thing. It's a foundation of fandom- fandom started with housewives in the 1950s writing Star Trek fanfiction. You can never get rid of shipping. You can just interact with what you want to interact with and leave others to mind their own business.

[marley-manson]

Out of curiosity, how would you describe ways people are misogynistic about female characters they like? I can probably guess, ("she's a perfect angel", "she's two dimensional now because everything she does is excusable", "she's the mother", etc.) but I would like to hear your take on it

Yeah that's definitely one of the categories of commentary I was thinking of. Reducing her down to a badass lady with the sole braincell, ignoring flaws and complexities and completely smoothing out her personality, mom friend lol, you nailed that. Also the classic awesome lady and her silly boys style threesome stuff, or the canon love interest in m/m who is totally understanding and supportive and steps aside or welcomes an open relationship happily. It's super annoying and tbqh I'd by far rather see people completely ignore a fictional woman's existence than frame her like that. Honestly, I'd rather see genuine character bashing of a love interest lol, because at least in those fics she usually has a personality, and sometimes even gets to do interesting things.

On the het fan side of things I'd also include a loooooooot of the ways people write and talk about het romance. I see a lot of female character fans, usually the kind who are resentful of m/m and call gay shippers misogynist a lot, who act like their favourite fictional woman can only attain personal fulfillment if she gets together with the dude they ship her with and see anyone who doesn't ship her with a dude (often including f/f fans) as like, maliciously depriving her of happiness lol.

But also all those little heteronormative things that add up - the woman is 'spunky' or 'sassy' (because the man has the power), she falls very neatly into the small weak feminine category to contrast with the manly dude with rough calloused hands (no matter how effeminate the dude actually is lol), she's nurturing and comforting and reads the dude's mind to provide him exactly what he needs and is tolerant and indulgent of his shittiness, her good looks are pointed out a lot, she's a great mom no matter what her canon personality is, etc etc.

And then there's the ship wars lol. Being a fan of a fictional woman absolutely does not mean you love all fictional women, and a lot of the absolute nastiest most misogynist statements I've seen in fandom have come from rival hetshippers wanking. You want to see a woman called a screeching harpy or a fugly slut or a manipulative whore or whatever else lol dive into a fandom with rival het ship wars. My favourite woman is practically perfect in every way and deserves the dude, your favourite woman is a wanton hussy.

This also holds true for the very few f/f fandoms that have rival f/f ships ime. Even Xena fandom regularly had plenty of misogynist things to say about any woman who makes eyes at Gabrielle who isn't Xena lol.

Also I would argue that wider f/f fandom's really fucking annoying compulsion to smooth away all relationship and character flaws and write two perfect women braiding each others' hair and maybe delicately finger-fucking at best in fear of problematic dynamics and kinks is also misogynist at its core, at least as an inescapable trend if not on an individual basis. Though, on that individual basis, the rhetoric around policing problematic f/f is absolutely misogynist (and homophobic). Good women don't get off on power and abuse, we can only like totally egalitarian sex, you're probably a predator if you're into dark fiction, that kind of shit.

And of course that also goes for the rhetoric around fic in general and how much misogyny is aimed at women writing kinky shit or m/m etc, but that's a bit of a digression since it's aimed at real women rather than fictional characters, so I'll stop there.

Thanks for asking and giving me a chance to complain more lol <3

[my-lovely-writing]

Obey Me! Lucifer with an abused teen MC.

Little notes: Haha, sorry that was a bit of a hiatus! I've been struggling with, well...life. You know how it is. But I'm back because I have fictional person brain rot. If you don't want to see anything besides my hero/villain stuff, feel free to blacklist the obey me tags.

Also, I'm kinda new to the obey me! fandom, so I'm sorry if the characters are a bit off. I won't be writing about some of them until I've learned more about them.

With that said, if you have any triggers, please check the tw tags before clicking below. This is about an MC who's been abused.

Lucifer

Lucifer found it a bit strange how quickly you took to him.

He makes you do your homework before class tomorrow? No complaints. He reminds you of bedtime (which you have because nobody's allowed to stay up later than Lucifer in the house of lamentation due to the fact that there may not be one left by morning)? "Okay, no problem! I can study TSL later." (Still trying to hang out with Levi, are you?) If anything, you seem grateful for his overbearing tendencies.

Really, with the chaos of his brothers, he's a little bit weirded out by how much trouble you don't cause. Maybe you're just scared of the demons?

Yeah, that has to be it. Works for him.

Except...it doesn't.

Not when he comes in screaming at Mammon for yet another failing grade and you start trembling, face pale and legs locked from your place on the couch, as if you don't quite know whether to freeze or run.

Dammit, he needs to take care of this lest the angels see you as a hostage and another celestial war is started. Besides, Diavolo doesn't want the human exchange student terrified, he's trying to foster relations.

So, for once, Lucifer forgoes stringing Mammon up from the ceiling, much to everyone's surprise (and your and his shared relief) and instead stalks off to his office to calm down with his favorite cursed records.

Later that night, when he's sending everyone to bed, he saves you for last. "MC, please follow me to my office."

His tone is gentle, reassuring even, but you know better than to mistake it for a request. Your mind races as you follow him on shaky legs. What have you done now? Idiot!

When you reach his office, Lucifer gestures for you to sit in the armchair across from his desk. It's surprisingly comfortable as you sink into it, but you can't help feeling like you're being swallowed up. Is he going to eat you?

As he sits in the chair across from you, it doesn't seem like it. Yet.

"How are you adjusting to life in The Devildom?"

You can't figure out his game here. His face reveals little, but you get the sense that he's asking a question without asking it.

"I'm adjusting," you say simply, expecting him to drop it at that. You're just a mortal, after all.

"I asked how you are adjusting," he counters. "It must be a big shift for you."

Really, it must be, he had realized earlier in the confines of his office—he and his brothers struggled enough after the fall, but you, in your human ways, had not even realized the existence of magic or god before coming here, and now you're surrounded by demons? Not to mention that you're still a child. Lucifer doesn't like to curse, usually finding such foul language beneath him, but he doesn't know what to call it other than a mindfuck.

The Avatar of Pride's efforts to push away the tinge of guilt that accompanied said realization have been in vain. He and his brothers haven't exactly been nice to you, have they?

He's long decided to help you adjust, if only to get rid of this stubborn and unbecoming guilt, but he can't exactly do that if you won't tell him what's wrong and you're just staring at him like a gaping fish, so he doubles down. "Are you experiencing any difficulties, MC?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck—if your mind was racing before, it's moving so quickly now that it's burning into ashes that, somehow, through the magic you've just learned exists, are blown away by the wind to spell those three words.

"MC?" Lucifer repeats your name, eyes widening in that half a millimeter of concern Diavolo talks about (referencing that one chat, I forget the actual measurement and I know his eyes technically widened in surprise, but give me a break) . Is this a human thing? No demons he knows of are this...weak. It's an active effort for him to restrain his judgement as he raises his eyebrows at you which, finally, seems to prompt a response.

"P-please, I'm sorry, I'll do better! I'm sorry for whatever I did. I w-won't do it again, don't eat me!"

Well...

Suddenly he feels like an ass for judging you. Just what ideas has Mammon been putting into your head? You look like you've seen your own ghost. And again, he reminds himself, you are a weak and defenseless human child in a world of demons.

"Nobody, not even Beel, is going to eat you. As our human exchange student, I won't allow you to die before the year closes," he says, lips pulling into a frown, studying you more intently now and watching the way you squirm as he looks at you, back ramrod straight against the armchair. What is going on with you? "Why do you believe that I would eat you?"

"I, uh..." Okay, so you don't think he'll eat you, but it's never good when an adult looks at you like that. "I don't know, you seemed upset earlier and now I've been called in here, so I thought I might have screwed up somehow—not, like, arson or anything, but I thought...I thought you'd find something."

"You thought I'd find something?" Lucifer stresses the word.

"...Yes?" you say with all the hesitance of someone on death row confessing to a crime. You swear you see Lucifer's eye twitch for just a split second.

Meanwhile, Lucifer's got it. At first, he didn't really pay all that much mind when Diavolo mentioned that you come from "troubled circumstances", mostly hoping that you wouldn't be just as troubled and therefore troubling yourself, but he's starting to see that you are—just in a different way than the others.

Of course, he doesn't outright mention or address the clues he's just put together—The Avatar of Pride can tell better than anyone that you're hiding your past as well as you can, which is, admittedly, not well, but he's been persuaded to humor you.

"I am not a sadist." Okay, he is, but it's better that you not know that. He continues, "I am not looking to find something to punish you for and, while there are some things I would kill you for such as threatening my brothers, Diavolo, or the Devildom, I have no intentions of causing you harm under regular circumstances. You may get an F on your math test without fearing me or any punishment I would give you, MC."

You blink as you process the words, a little bit of the fear edging out of your body. "I can?" Your voice is tentatively hopeful.

"You can," Lucifer reaffirms, shuffling his paperwork around, if only for your benefit, as tears begin to brim in your eyes. He allows you to save face. "Go to bed. You're welcome in my office if you ever need to talk."

"Thank you," you mumble to him as you hurry from the room. You don't know what this means, but you know you're not dead and that's good enough.

The next morning, Lucifer's brothers are woken up earlier and met with a stern talk about being kind to you, accompanied by the reminder that you are a child even by human standards who is adjusting to life in literal hell and the threat of them having to adjust to hell a second time over (a punishment—Lucifer's punishment is the second hell). "We're building relations with the exchange student for Diavolo," he justifies explains.

His brothers aren't terribly thrilled with the idea of cozying up to a human, but they agree because they remember how hard the fall was for them.

Asmodeus, being the most familiar and cool with humans due to his pact with Solomon and finding your fearful, doe-like nature adorable, offers to take you out clubbing—to which Lucifer reminds him of the child thing.

Fine, fine, no clubbing. He'll pamper you instead, you certainly have enough split ends to suggest you could use a haircut.

From then on out, a new rule is established where each of the brothers, Lucifer included, have to spend time with you every so often with one or more brothers spending time with you each day of the week.

Needless to say, you're confused by the sudden kindness but you soon don't mind it, finding yourself slowly warming up to them—and, much to the shock of your ruined self-esteem, they to you.

Lucifer is pleasantly surprised and secretly grateful to find that his brothers get into less trouble with you around and, eventually, even more pleasantly surprised to find that you seem almost normal around them. You no longer eat in silence at the dinner table, refuse to meet their eyes, or cower like a puppy used to getting kicked when they raise their voices at each other (everyone has learned not to raise their voice at you, even Satan).

It's not long before Lucifer is calling you his best behaved child sibling. He even goes so far as to have everyone retake the family photo with you in it.

Is there any way he can turn you into a demon? He'd like you to be his child sibling for forever, and humans die far too quickly. As far as Lucifer's concerned, Satan has something new to research.

And it's not as though you don't seem to have some level of darkness in you. Just the other day you heard screams coming from the lower levels of Lord Diavolo's castle and followed them in spite of your fear, kind heart wanting to aid whoever was suffering.

According to Barbatos, you didn't even flinch when you found him torturing your parents, pliers still gripped around one of your dad's bloody fingernails.

Hell, you even asked to join in! (How Barbatos responded to that, I'll let you all imagine lol)

Also, Lucifer will never admit it, but he's quite possibly never felt more pride than the time you, Satan, and Belphie pranked him with a whoopie cushion on his desk chair. Normally he would have beat his brothers with it, but he could tell from the less than ideal invisibility cloak over the object that you were involved and hid a smile from prying eyes as he sat on what felt like his throne despite the ensuing fart noises.

And that's how his family of seven became eight once again.

[blancheludis]

Whumptober 2024, Day 28: CCTV

Prequel to "All the Ways We Rust"

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Tags: Child Abuse, Dark Bruce Wayne, Hurt Tim, Hurt Jason, Family, Protective Tim, Protective Jason, Isolation Chamber

Summary:

Fear spreads through Jason's insides, sickly cold, familiar in all its ugliness. Still, he says, "I need you to not kill Tim."

And the isolation chamber is slowly killing Tim. Jason is not at all sure how much of Tim will get back out of that dark hole if they keep going like this. Bruce smiles, and that hits harder than the backhand before. "I won't," he says. Not in a don't worry way. More in a I have no intention to give up my newest plaything so quickly way. "Now eat, or he'll stay in there for another day."

---

All throughout his childhood, Tim thought Batman was a hero. He followed him around, both through the news and later with a camera, and thought himself lucky to catch even a glimpse. When Robin - Robin! - tells him to stay away, he takes it as a challenge. Back then, he did not know what desperation looked like on Jason's face. It is one of the first things he learns.

---

Tim never met Alfred, but his ghost lingers everywhere in Wayne Manor.

After Bruce hits Tim for the first time, his cheek burning with shock more than the impact itself, Tim locks himself up in his room, wondering what he did wrong, how he can be better.

That night, Jason sneaks into his room, face white and voice breaking more than it holds steady.

"It's not your fault," he tells Tim solemnly. "It's mine. I killed Alfred."

He did not. It was an accident. But Bruce does not believe in accidents. He believes in guilt and how to punish it.

"I'm sorry," Jason says. "I'll try to protect you, but -"

But.

Alfred left an entire life worth of hollow spaces behind. It is not just that he cooked and cleaned and made sure that the Manor's inhabitants were comfortable and looked after. He also seemed to be the only person still tying Bruce to this pesky little thing called morality, to conscience. With Alfred gone, there is no one to keep Bruce in check anymore.

---

The next morning, Bruce sits Tim down at the breakfast table.

"Let's talk about chores, Timothy." His eyes linger on the faint bruise he left on Tim's cheek. There is no regret, just a mild interest that immediately crushes all of Tim's appetite.

"Yes, sir," he says nonetheless, voice even the way his parents taught him. Manners are important and he can be good.

"Jason grew up basically on the streets. He does not know how certain things are done." The way Bruce does not even look at Jason is more disparaging than his tone itself. "But you do, don't you, Timothy? Your parents must have taught you what is important in a place like this. We have certain standards to uphold."

Tim has grown up with a number of tutors. Languages, music, math. He has been taught how to run a business, how to talk people into doing what he wants from them. He has no idea how to run a household. That, his parents liked to say, is what servants are for, even though they left him without most of the time.

"I will show you," Bruce concludes and manages to make it sound like he is doing Tim a favour.

There is only one answer Tim can give. "Thank you, sir."

He does not yet know Bruce, but he knows these kinds of games. His parents did not physically hurt him, but their expectations were also a noose around his neck.

For a long moment, Bruce watches Tim, dissecting him like a colourful bug. Tim knows better than to hold his gaze, so he drops his eyes and searches for flaws in his body language. When his parents were away on their trips, Tim could do with his life what he wanted. These times, he realizes, are over.

"See," Bruce then calls out to Jason, who is frozen in his seat. "He already knows how to be polite, at least. You should follow his example."

Tim's breath catches at the implied threat, but he does not move. This entire morning is a trap and Tim can do nothing against the way it pulls close around him.

---

The first time Bruce has Tim use the iron cast skillet, he can barely pick it up and keep it even with just one hand.

"You need to hold it steady," Bruce says, looming over Tim from his side, too close, and not in a helpful way.

"I'm trying."

Bruce frowns at him, never happy when Tim dares to talk back. But then his expression smooths over and that is worse. "Here," he says, voice dropping lower. "Steady it with your other arm."

He circles Tim's wrist with his hand, holding it tight enough to be uncomfortable. And then he presses the bare skin of Tim's lower arm against the hot skillet.

Immediate agony shoots through Tim, white hot pain stretching out from that small point of contact. His other hand lets the skillet go instinctively. It clatters to the kitchen counter, sauce flying everywhere.

Bruce, still holding Tim's wrist, pulls the arm closer to himself and inspects the burn. "How clumsy," he muses, pressing a thumb against the aching skin, and then again when Tim instinctively flinches.

Finally, he lets Tim go, leaving behind a faint, red imprint of fingers, which fades while the ugly mark next to it just goes darker.

"Pick up your mess."

---

Tim does not believe in coincidences anymore. Not in this house. Not with someone as pedantic and prepared as Bruce.

So, when Bruce appears silently in the kitchen and then calls out, "Tim," his voice ringing sharply in the empty space, Tim has no doubt that he timed it exactly for the moment Tim was getting the casserole out of the oven. It happens so quickly; one moment he worries about the colour of his dish but decides to take it out anyway, the next he flinches at Bruce's tone and the casserole falls, glass breaking on the kitchen floor, food spilling on the ground.

He does not look up, does not want to see Bruce's face. It does not matter whether he is angry or smug or any of the dozens of other things that spell disaster for Tim.

"How disappointing." Bruce sighs. He sounds quiet, contemplating, as if he has not thought of any way this situation could play out before he ever stepped into the room. "Robin really shouldn't be so clumsy."

That is enough to make the muscles in Tim's back go tense to the point of pain. The days Bruce is in the mood for mind games are always the worst.

"I'm sorry, sir," Tim says, more because it is expected of him, not because he thinks it will actually do something.

He stares at the mess on the floor, feels a sad kind of kinship with the ruined food.

Bruce moves forward until just the tips of his shoes appear at the edge of Tim's vision. 

"Well," he orders, expectant, "Pick it up."

Tim nods and turns to get a rag and dustpan when Bruce clicks his tongue. It stops him immediately, like a well-trained dog. Now, he does look up, expecting a blow coming towards him. Jason always takes them head-on, and Tim has not yet decided whether it makes the pain better or worse to see the hit coming.

"You have two working hands, don't you?" Bruce asks, deceptively gentle. His lips curl up just slightly. On someone else, that might be mistaken for a smile. "And do take care to pick out all the glass. Jason is a growing boy and eats everything, but maybe glass shards are a bit too far."

Nothing seems like it goes too far in this house. But Tim wisely does not say anything. He kneels down to look at the ruined food, locates the biggest pieces of glass still intact. Somehow, he doubts he will be allowed to use a sieve, even for the sauce.

"Mitts," Bruce points out, the first hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

Tim breathes, his face carefully lowered, so that Bruce cannot add disrespect to his list of things Tim did wrong today. Then he pulls off the oven mitts, slowly to stall for a bit more time. Not too slow, of course, because Bruce's wrath is infinitely worse than getting a few burns from the still hot glass dish. It might have been out of the oven long enough that he should be able to handle it if he moves quickly. Either way, he is no stranger to burns anymore.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Bruce watches, his eyes almost hotter on Tim than the broken glass. Knowing him, he takes note of every wince, every sign of discomfort, every red spot blossoming on Tim's skin.

Working slowly is usually not a good idea in this house, but Tim still meticulously searches through every spoonful of food to not leave any piece of glass in. Perhaps he would, if he knew there was even the slightest chance Bruce would eat any of this. Not with Jason in danger, though. Never that.

He is done, finally, and removes the pile of glass pieces without looking at the sorry remains of their meal. His hands are burning, his fingertips are red, some already forming blisters.

"Sir?" he asks, quietly. Because this is not it. It is never that easy.

"I still need dinner. Something simpler, perhaps," Bruce drawls with the lazy, mocking tone of the unrepentantly guilty. "We can call in Jason for his food when you're done with mine."

The implication that Tim will not get any food, ruined or not, hangs heavy in the air, but Tim does not react to it. This is not the first time he has missed a meal. Will not be the last either. He is more concerned with cooking with burned fingers. He hopes that this, at least, will all the punishment for the day.

---

Bruce keeps Jason busy all day, loading him down with new reports to write or cases to go through every time Jason comes up from the cave. Not once does he see any trace of Tim. Not since dinner the night before, which had consisted of a cold mess of slightly mashed vegetables and halfway congealed sauce for Jason while Bruce had salad and steak. Tim had to stand back to watch them eat and clean the kitchen afterward. His hands were red and blistered, but of course Jason was not allowed to help.

That is the last he has seen of Tim. Several times this day, he has contemplated to go looking for Tim, consequences be damned. It is never just him who would feel those consequences, however, and Tim is more important than him. So, Jason keeps working and pretends his attention is not on the stretched-out silence clogging up the halls, making it impossible to breathe normally.

At dinnertime, there are, once again, only two plates on the table, and only Bruce is waiting for him. 

Doing his best to appear unhurried, Jason sits down in his seat. "Where is Tim?" he asks, although he knows better.

Bruce watches him for a long moment. "He needed a break."

Only practice allows Jason to swallow down the immediate panic. The cabinet Bruce uses to lock Tim up in is cramped and dark and soundproofed. It messes Tim up more than a beating. Shut away with nothing but his own thoughts and his nightmares rising out of the darkness.

"It's been an entire day," he points out and cannot quite keep his voice from breaking.

The backhand comes out of nowhere. It is not unexpected, of course, because Bruce is a master of nonchalant violence. But there is no buildup, not a hint in his expression. No, Bruce's hand connects with Jason's jaw and Bruce does not even look when Jason has to grip the edge of the table to remain in his seat, when a soft sound escapes him as if this is the first time he ever took a hit. Keeping his eyes down, Jason rolls his jaw several times, testing the pain.

Then, stubbornly, he raises his chin. "You need to let him out."

It is never a good idea to demand anything of Bruce. They are utterly dependent on him, and Bruce has made it abundantly clear that their well-being is not much of a concern. They serve a specific purpose here and what they want or need has no impact on that at all.

The corners of Bruce's eyes crinkle the tiniest bit, which is the only sign of his displeasure. "Do you really want to argue with me right now?"

Every last bit of instinct screams at Jason to back down. This is not about him, though.

"He needs food and water," he insists, knowing better than to plead. They have to count themselves lucky that Bruce Wayne is still a public figure and that someone would notice if two of his adopted children simply disappeared. Or starved to death. Jason just has to remind Bruce of this, that he has to be pragmatic about abusing them.

"He has water," Bruce says, void of all empathy. With a raised eyebrow, he adds, "And he would have food if he had not wasted it."

Tim is a meticulous learner. He has taken to cooking like he does to anything else: with relentless discipline and ingrained perfectionism. Most of that, he learned from his parents, but Bruce naturally does his best to push things farther. Jason does not know what happened the day before, but would bet anything that Tim did not mess up dinner on his own.

"Bruce -"

"Do you need my attention, Jason." It is not even a question. Bruce has stopped wrapping his threats up in pretence. Why would he waste energy on that? It is only them in this house, only Bruce's word that counts for anything.

Fear spreads through Jason's insides, sickly cold, familiar in all its ugliness. Still, he says, "I need you to not kill Tim."

Bruce smiles, and that hits harder than the backhand. "I won't," he says. Not in a don't worry way. More in a I have no intention to give up my newest plaything so quickly way. "Now eat, or he'll stay in there for another day."

Jason's hands are moving before the words fully register in his brain.

---

Tim's hands keep trembling until well into the night. The window is wide open, letting in an icy breeze, but Tim relishes the sensation on his skin, desperate for anything after too many hours of nothing. Jason simply puts on another sweater and bullies Tim to put on warmer socks after he bandaged up the bloody scratches Tim left on his own arms, as if breaking himself is a viable alternative to breaking the dark box Bruce likes to lock him up in. Since then, Jason has been reading The Hobbit, his quiet voice a soothing reminder that Tim is out and still alive and not trapped in his own head. He does not hear any of the words, but neither of them minds.

"I'm sorry," Tim says, cutting Jason off abruptly. "We should sleep."

They have school in the morning, and he should really put some effort into pulling himself together if he wants to be able to pretend he feels like a normal person and not like a ghost.

Jason looks up at him, the book open on his knees. He is going to reassure Tim. He is going to pull Tim onto his bed and wrap him up in a hug, the only touch Tim can still tolerate, the only touch that still makes him feel safe.

Instead, Jason says, "We could just leave."

People have told Tim that he is smart and quick all his life. These words, however, bounce in his mind, making no sense, until the implication hits like a punch.

"Do you have a fever?" he asks, getting up quickly.

Perhaps he missed some glass shards in Jason's food. Perhaps he perforated his oesophagus or stomach and is now slipping into sepsis and Tim will have killed his brother and there is truly no more saving either of them.

"I'm serious," Jason says, too steadfast for someone who might be dying. He leans forward, waves Tim closer. And, after a moment of hesitation, Tim does. When it comes down to it, he will always follow Jason.

He sits down gingerly on Jason's bed, lets Jason pick up his hand and hold on for dear life. 

"We're vigilantes. We're trained," Jason says as if that means anything is a world that is controlled by people like Bruce Wayne. "We can go wherever we want."

Tim shakes his head, half in denial, half to not let the words settle inside him. They cannot think about such stupid ideas.

"B has all the resources to find us anywhere," he points out with desperation. "He's not going to let us go."

But Jason is not talking about asking for permission. "There's enough places in this world where there's not a camera every few feet," he says, full of the same stubbornness that lets him get up from the ground time and again, no matter that Bruce will only send him back down.

Pressure builds at the back of Tim's throat. He does not know whether it heralds laughter or tears, but he does not plan on finding out. Concentrating on keeping his breathing even, he asks, "And how do you propose we get there?" He does not manage to sound as dismissive as he was going for.

Jason's mouth curves into a smile that is sharp enough to cut. "Quickly."

"Funny." It gets harder to breathe, the walls closing in around Tim like he is back in the cabinet.

"I'm serious." Jason's hand tightens around Tim's, grounding him in the present. "If he finishes that thing -"

"It can't be that much worse than the cabinet," Tim lies and chokes on it, on the memory of being in the dark, even the sound of his own breathing muffled, unable to get out.

Bruce keeps talking about the isolation chamber he is building and Tim is suffocating at the mere idea of it. Even with the soundproofing, the cabinet is not cutting him off completely. Certainly, Bruce will correct that oversight with how much planning he is putting into this project.

From a distance, he hears Jason talking, hears him dragging the memories closer and closer to the surface. "It's not just dark and small, Tim, it's -"

"I know, Jason," Tim snaps, just barely piercing the suffocating weight settling on his skin. "Believe me. I don't -" He draws in a shuddering breath, keeps his eyes on the warm nightlight so he does not drown in darkness. "I don't ever want to go in there, but we don't really have that many options."

"I'm telling you, we can -"

"Jason." Tim does not manage more than a whisper, but Jason stops himself immediately anyway.

"I'm sorry," Jason says, eyes wide as he takes in Tim. "I don't mean to make things worse. But I can't help you when he puts you in there."

"You're helping." And he does. Without Jason, Tim might have lost himself ages ago. His mind is not the kindest place. Locked in the cabinet, however, he does not have anywhere else to go. After, Jason always helps to draw him back out.

"Not enough," Jason insists, because he has not yet learned that he cannot save everyone, cannot even save the ones closest to him.

Tim would love to offer him reassurances, but he is too worn out for that. Instead, he settles against Jason's side, tugging at the blanket to be let in. Then he asks, "Keep reading?"

And Jason pulls him close and fills the silence once again, taking them far away to a place where monsters can be fought against and defeated.

---

When the sensory deprivation chamber is finished, Bruce makes an entire thing out of it. He has Tim cook a three-course-meal - even without supervising and correcting and accidentally burning Tim - and, after, summons them up to the attic. He looks, Tim thinks, nausea already roiling in his stomach, like a child on Christmas morning, giddy in his excitement for the presents under the tree. Worse, even, he looks like he wants to talk.

"This one is special, boys," he says as he ushers them through the door. "It can also be filled with water, but we'll see how practical that is. We'll test it without for now." Then he shifts, allowing Tim the first glance at his newest prison

It does not look small, at least from the outside, just an unassuming box of sleek wood, strangely fitting in with the rest of the stashed, forgotten things in the attic. It would be tacky if the cage for one of his wards would look out of place amongst his family's keepsakes, after all.

Tim is rooted in place. He knew this was coming. Bruce had certainly kept them updated enough and shared his data, because I know you like your research, Tim.

"Tim," Bruce orders and sounds happy about it.

Next to him, Jason is trembling. Neither of them has ever dealt well with watching the other get hurt. And this is Tim's nightmare. This is being left in an empty house for months at a time or getting accidentally locked in the car and forgotten about - but so much worse. This is specifically created to shut Tim away from the world.

Impatience taking over, Bruce taps his foot. "You're wasting time."

With a shuddering inhale, Tim steps forward. He is not getting out of this. That is one of the first things he learned in this house. Bruce gets what he wants. There is no arguing, no bargaining. There is not even a guarantee that certain behaviour will get specific results. Bruce is clinical and methodical, but he is also hit with strange whims at times, and he is in a position to follow through on them, no questions asked.

The inside of the box is dark. Of course, it is. But even from the outside, there is no telling what is waiting for him. He is not sure what is worse, knowing or not. In the end, it does not matter. He will go in either way.

"Hands," Bruce orders, almost brimming with excitement.

Mechanically, Tim holds out his hands. The mitts are familiar. The first time Bruce left him in the cabinet overnight, Tim scratched up his face and throat and arms, caught in a never-ending panic attack, driven by desperation to just get out, unable to differentiate whether that meant out of the dark or out of his body. After, Bruce fretted over him like he actually cared for the damage, like his eyes were not alit with satisfaction. The next time, he had presented Tim with the mitts. Just a precaution to make sure you don't hurt yourself. No, that is Bruce's prerogative.

A hand presses into the place between his shoulder blades, which is a threat all on its own. He steps forward, unable to look away from that dark hole awaiting him. There is a small noise, almost a sob, and he is not sure whether that came from him or from Jason, but it does not matter. Now that he is moving, Bruce will not let him stop again.

Darkness greets him as he steps through the door. He stops, one foot still outside, bracing himself against the frame. He barely manages to take one more, shaking breath, before Bruce pushes him the rest of the way in.

He falls to his knees, barely feels an impact. The door closes behind him with a quiet hiss.

And then, nothing.

Tim is aware he is breathing heavily but he can barely hear it. Everything is muffled, like wool has been pushed into his ears. Even his heartbeat, erratic and too fast, sounds wrong. The air is thick, filling his lungs only sluggishly. Briefly, he wonders whether fresh oxygen can come in from somewhere or whether Bruce intends for him to suffocate slowly. He pushes the thought down, hard.

Slowly, he situates himself. The ground is made of something almost soft. It does not really give way underneath him, does not shape into him, but it also does not press back. It is almost like he is touching nothing at all, like he is not getting any proper sensory feedback. Which is the point, obviously.

Carefully, he reaches out, tests the boundaries of this new cage in the complete darkness. He cannot stand, cannot stretch out on the ground. He can, however, curl into himself and try to keep the panic at bay for as long as he can manage.

It is a battle he will lose.

---

For long minutes, Bruce simply stands in front of the locked box, almost as if he is waiting for something.

Abruptly, he turns towards Jason. "Do you want to take a look?" he asks and does not wait for an answer.

Bruce leads Jason to his office, lets him stand behind the chair. On the right-hand monitor is a window already open, which punches all the air out of Jason's chest. 

Of course, there is a camera. It is not enough for Bruce to know Tim is losing his mind in the dark. No, he would want to watch.

The quality is not good, but it is enough to see Tim curled up on the ground, face buried between his arms, knees pulled into his chest. His body is fluttering with uneven, too shallow breaths.

A high-pitched, desperate whine claws its way up Jason's throat and he does not manage to swallow it. Usually, Bruce would pounce on such an obvious show of weakness. Now, however, it is like he does not even notice it. His eyes are transfixed on the screen, on Tim. His expression is bright with wonder, almost happy.

Jason's stomach heaves and he barely manages to pull out the bin before he is vomiting out the entire cursed three-course-meal. Bruce does not even react to it.

---

Jason has been sitting outside of the attic for hours when Bruce finally comes.

"Eager?" he asks and sounds excited himself, although for entirely different, entirely wrong reasons. At least he does not send Jason away. At least he did not find something better to occupy Jason's time with instead of waiting around uselessly.

Bruce walks with a spring in his step while Jason can barely keep his knees from shaking enough to get up from the ground. He wants to blame it on fury, but the truth is that this sheer helplessness is hollowing him out.

Without further fanfare, Bruce unlocks the panel set inside the wall of the chamber - this thing seems to be locked up tighter than the entrance to the cave - and then the door finally hisses open.

Nothing happens. No sound makes it out, no movement.

Jason stumbles forward, but Bruce stops him with an arm across his chest. So, he is allowed to watch but not to help.

It takes so long that Jason is ready to throw all caution in the wind - surely, no beating can be worse than being forced to wait, now - when there is finally some movement.

"Tim," Jason calls out. Immediately, Bruce's hand grips Jason's upper arm, tight enough to bruise. A warning.

It was enough, however. Tim uncurls on the ground of the chamber, his breathing becoming more erratic but at least deeper. Almost like sob, but Jason cannot think about that now. He can help to pick up Tim's pieces as soon as they are alone. Because, if he thinks about it right now, he will do something stupid, like hit Bruce. He would not mind the pain that would follow for him, but he has the terrible suspicion that Bruce would simply lock this door again and leave Tim in there until he is done dealing with Jason. Pain is nothing. Sometimes, the pain is even welcome, better than the mind games Bruce plays. But he needs to get Tim out of there as quickly as possible.

In the darkness, Tim raises his head, blinks against the sudden, violent light filtering in. And then he is moving.

The door is not tall enough for him to come out at his full height, but he does not look like his legs are working properly, anyway. Instead, he is crawling more than climbing through the opening, gasping in air like these are the first true breaths he could take in hours. He collapses right outside the box, eyes unseeing.

The hand around Jason's arm tightens, keeping him in place. So, for another, unbearable moment, Jason has to watch. Bruce watches, too, his lips pulled up into some caricature of a smile, drinking in the sight as if there has never been anything more beautiful. It makes Jason sick, bile rising in his already raw throat.

Finally, he cannot take it anymore. He rips himself free from Bruce's hold and steps forward, crouches down by Tim's side.

"You're out," he says, quietly enough that he hopes it will not jar Tim's no doubt strained senses. "I've got you. I've got you."

Bruce does not move as Jason gets the cursed mitts off Tim's hands and gently tries to coax him to his feet, only to realize it will not work and picks him up to carry him instead. No, Bruce does not move, does not stop them. But he watches.

---

That night, Tim alternates between hiding himself away in Jason's hold and pushing Jason away in mad, panicked scrambles. It earns Jason a number of bruises because the switches happen so quickly. He does not mind, of course, but knows he will have to hide them in the morning. On top of everything else, Tim does not need to feel guilty, too. Jason is doing that enough for the both of them. Because he could not protect Tim. Because he cannot truly make things better now.

All throughout the night, he makes sure there are things for Tim to see and smell and hear. He burns some incense he found in a closet down the hall from the kitchen. He holds Tim close or draws circles on his back or runs a hand through his hair. He reads or hums or promises Tim that he is there, that he is not going anywhere.

Somehow, they make it through the night. If only daylight were any safer.

---

"How long?" Tims asks in the morning, looking small and fragile. His skin is glowing red from where he must have scrubbed it raw under the shower.

Jason hesitates, knows the truth will not make anything better, but he owes it to Tim nonetheless. "Four hours."

Tim closes his eyes briefly as he takes a moment to breathe.

It will not stay at four hours, they know. Things always get worse.

---

"We could steal a car," Tim says, completely out of the blue one night, as if he had not shot down Jason's vague thoughts about running away before.

The chamber changes things, however. He feels like he is barely anchored in his own body anymore. He is terrified of losing himself, of leaving Jason behind on his own. There is not much they can do to actually help each other, but they are together, at least.

Jason turns towards him. He looks too grim to have been on his way to falling asleep. Of course, neither of them sleeps well. Sharing a room has made that better, but it does not actually make them safer. 

"Do you really want Bruce to bail us out of jail and keep here on house arrest?" Jason asks, not accusatory but simply pointing out a real danger. "Now he has to at least keep us functioning for school."

Sometimes, Tim wonders whether that is actually a good thing. School is just another place draining their energy. Pretending to be all right, pretending that their family is completely normal, is often an enormous task. Both of them are good liars, but nothing is without cost.

"We could steal one of his cars," Tim insists. There is an entire garage of them right underneath the house.

Jason barely takes any time to contemplate that before pointing out, "He's got too much security."

Most of that is to keep people out, though, so Tim says, "I could get around that, probably."

Looking at him, Jason sits up, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. "And then?"

Reading The Hobbit has filled Tim's subconscious with a number of fantastic ideas. Of simply walking wherever the wind carries them. Of adventure. Of braving mountains and armies and anything getting in their way.

"Well, we'd either have to get somewhere specific fast, or get lost somewhere," he says, unable to meet Jason's eyes. Sometimes, Tim thinks they are already lost. Drowning in this place with its empty halls and rooms, drowning in Bruce's grief-turned-cruelty.

Gentle, despite the clear worry underneath his voice, Jason argues, "It'll get worse when he catches us."

"We can't let him catch us, then." Normally, Tim is more realistic than this. Something is going to give, however, and he desperately does not want it to be either of them.

"Tim." Jason is utterly still, like he is undecided whether to lean in or away and decided to freeze instead. "You were the one who said it won't work."

"So, what? We just let him do whatever he damn pleases?" Tim snaps, although he is not angry at Jason. "We can't - I'm not sure I can keep going like this. I can't keep going back into -"

The box. The cage. The lockable chamber of nothing, specifically designed to hollow him out and drive him insane. It is already working.

Too quickly, Jason says, "All right."

"What?"

Tim knows what Jason is doing, of course. The same thing he always does, getting up and in front of Tim, drawing Bruce's attention, offering the other cheek. He has no sense of self-preservation. Tim loves and hates him for that in equal measure.

"We'll think of something," Jason promises, his face settling in the kind of determined expression that has Tim's stomach fluttering.

"No, Jason," he tries to argue, even knowing this is his fault and there is no going back now. "Don't do anything stupid."

Flashing him a grin, Jason shrugs. "Don't worry about me."

Funny. All they do is worry about each other. Tim sits back and watches Jason with growing worry weighing him down. He has a very bad feeling that he just pushed Jason into doing something reckless, into paying for Tim's cowardice with his own pain. That is not at all what he wanted.

"Jason," he warns, not sure how to stop him now, but Jason shakes his head.

"You think about which car would be best," he says as if this is already a done deal, as if all they have to do is pack their bags and step out the door. "We can't take anything too flashy."

Tim leans forward, holding Jason's gaze. "Promise me."

But Jason does not. Instead, he winks at Tim and lies back down, pulling his blanket up to his ears, pretending he is ready for sleep. Nausea rises in Tim that, for once, has nothing to do with the fact he has not gotten dinner, again. Neiter of them will rest easy this night.

---

Bruce comes to dinner in a suit. It fits him like a second skin. Not a fold out of place, not a wrinkle to be seen. It has taken Tim a while to learn how to iron Bruce's clothes to Alfred's exacting standards. It did not help that Bruce cannot seem to pass by any chance of pressing any burning hot thing he can find against Tim's skin.

Beyond his impeccable clothing, however, Bruce looks winded. He sits down at the table and when he picks up the napkin, Tim catches a glance of his knuckles. They are coloured an angry red and rubbed raw in places.

"Will Jason be joining us, sir?" Tim asks, biting the inside of his cheek to remain calm. Despite everything, Bruce values politeness.

"Training ran long," Bruce responds dismissively, not caring for the picture he paints when he studies his knuckles in clear view of Tim. "You can serve."

The rule is, when Jason is not at the table when food is served, he does not eat. Often, on days Bruce knows Jason will not be on time, when he makes sure of it, he specifies exactly what he wants to eat, measures out exactly what ingredients Tim has to use. He knows Tim sneaks food out whenever he can. He knows how to make it harder for them. Food, after all, is a privilege they have to earn.

---

Bruce takes his time, inspecting each course when Tim brings them out, chewing each bite thoroughly, asking for a second serving. All the while, his knuckles are in plain sight, a mockery and a warning both.

When he is finally done, Tim clears the table in record time, surprised that Bruce is letting him go. This is a lesson, then.

Jason is in their room, lying on one side, curled up but gingerly so. He is breathing and awake, which is enough for fury to win out over worry in Tim. At least for the moment.

"You said you wouldn't do anything stupid," Tim hisses as he steps up to Jason, eyes running over him to find any wounds he has to take care of immediately. His face is clear. Of course, it is. Bruce knows better than to leave marks where everybody might see them.

"Don't flatter yourself, Tim. He's simply neglected me while building that hellhole for you," Jason replies with the kind of bitter cheer that just makes it sound like he is barely hanging on. "This has been long overdue."

It probably has, because Bruce is normally better at keeping his attention equally divided between them. It would not do for either of them to get ideas. 

"And you didn't provoke him? You didn't make things worse just to draw his attention?" Tim asks sharply, not at all satisfied when Jason will not meet his eyes.

"I don't regret it."

And why would he? They are both trying to mitigate whatever damage is coming for the other. Locking Tim up at least does not leave any physical marks, however. It does leave him bleeding through his bedsheets.

"Jason, you can't -"Tim cuts himself off, bites his cheek hard enough to taste iron. "How bad is it?"

Now, Jason looks at him, at once sheepish and dismissive. He shifts a little, testing his own body. "Nothing broken. Nothing's bleeding anymore either," he decrees and has the gall to sound relieved about it.

Tim closes his eyes, wills his lungs to keep breathing even while the rest of his body feels ready to fall apart.

Jason's hand finds his, pats him twice before falling back to the bed. "It's all right, Tim."

"It's not," Tim shoots back with a vehemence that only hollows him out more. "One of these days he'll do permanent damage."

They both know that is unlikely. Bruce does not hurt them in fits of rage. He always remains cold, collected, clinical. He knows exactly how hard he can push them, has never gone too far before. There is still the possibility that he might not want to hold himself back anymore, that he decides to get rid of them.

"I can take it," Jason vows. His eyes burn into Tim, but now it is Tim's turn to avoid him.

"You shouldn't have to," he says, stubbornly.

It is entirely expected, when Jason replies, without hesitation, "Neither do you."

This has nothing to do with what they can take. Probably also not with what they deserve, although Jason's opinion on that changes depending on how much pain he is in, no matter how often Tim tells him that Alfred's death and, more so, Bruce's descent into cruelty are not his fault. They are not asking to be hurt, to be dismantled slowly. All of that is on Bruce and Bruce alone.

Swallowing a sigh, Tim walks around, further into the room. Like the stupid, self-sacrificing idiot Jason is, he has put the bed they dragged in for him closer to the door. As if that would actually make Tim safer. As if it actually makes Tim feel better to watch Jason get hurt in his stead.

As he is getting their cobbled-together first-aid kit out from under his bed, Tim says, aiming for nonchalance, "I've chosen a car."

Immediately, Jason shoots up, unable to hide his grimace as he pulls at bruises and, probably, worse. "What? No, Tim. That was a stupid idea. We can't steal a car from Bruce." He keeps his voice low, but the words tumble all over each other in his hurry to get them out.

Tim looks up at him with a calm he does not feel. "We can't stay here either."

He brings the kit to Jason's bed but does not open it yet, keeps looking at his hands, at the fading burns all over them.

"Where would we even go?" Jason asks, smaller than he should ever sound.

Somehow, Tim finds the energy to smile at him. "You said we could go anywhere we want."

But Jason shakes his head. "You know it's not that easy."

Easy was never what Tim was going for. Nothing in either of their lives has ever been easy, and it is steadily becoming less so with every passing day.

"It's an option," Tim says and leaves it at that.

He tugs at Jason's shirt, revealing the mess underneath, and gets to work.

---

"Are you done with your homework?"

Jason glares up at Bruce, takes in the nonchalance, the perfect three-piece suit. His back is throbbing, raw with pain. But, of course, he is caught up with schoolwork.

"Yes, sir," he bites out, not caring that he cannot keep up even a facade of politeness. Right after a beating, Bruce is often a bit more lenient with Jason's temper.

"Good. I'll be going out," Bruce says, fiddling his cufflinks into place. "The Foundation Gala is tonight and I'll have some things to take care off before then."

"You're -" Jason breathes, listens for the silence in the house. "Where's Tim?"

Bruce watches him, zeroing in on every twitch, every tense muscle, every weakness. Entirely too calm, he answers, "You know where he is."

Of course, Jason does. It takes everything he has not to jump up, not to throw himself at Bruce. "You have to let him out." Just barely, he manages to make that into a plea. 

The Gala will run long and the sun is not even dipping right now. That is too many hours. If Bruce even remembers to let Tim out after. The chamber is worse than the cabinet ever was, and Jason is not at all sure how much of Tim will get back out of that dark hole if they keep going like this.

"Do I, now?" Bruce asks, slightly bemused even as his face hardens. "It seems rather that you need another reminder of where you place is in this house." 

At the very bottom, Jason is aware. He is feeling the echoes of that lesson with every breath he takes, etched into his very skin.

Out of breath, he says, "It's too long."

"We'll see," Bruce says simply. As if this is an experiment. As if he can push and push and push without consequences. As if Tim is not Jason's little brother. As if that thing does not leave Tim close to breaking every time. "Do not wait up."

And then Bruce is gone, out of their room and down the hall, walking with measured steps as if everything is just how it is supposed to be.

Jason cannot breathe. He sits frozen at his desk, mind racing. This is too much. He cannot let this happen. He has to help Tim.

As quietly as he can, he walks down the hall to the grand staircase leading down. He folds himself into the shadows and watches Bruce leave, watches as he gets into the car waiting for him outside, watches as it is driving out of sight. Then, just to be sure, he waits half an hour more.

He has no idea how to get Tim out of the chamber. It has to work, but he knows any manipulation of the system will send an alert directly to Bruce. Once he starts, everything has to go quickly.

Jason goes back to their room and gets out two bags, throwing in things haphazardly. Tim would be better at this. He knows better how to remain calm. But Tim is not here yet, so Jason has to do this by himself.

He gets their bags and fills another with food from the pantry and gets it all down to the garage. He can hotwire a car, at least, if it comes to that. Then he goes back up to Bruce's office. This is risky, he knows. There are cameras everywhere, but especially in this room. It does not matter, though. There is no going back now.

Jason checks the footage from Tim's chamber, swallowing down his nausea when he sees Tim's curled up form. He minimizes the window and then goes through Bruce's drawers, looking for anything useful. Money, their passports, car keys. His hands are shaking but he pushes on. He finds an itinerary and knows exactly when Bruce will get on stage tonight. There, he has their window of opportunity. The too small amount of time in which Bruce will be occupied, no matter if he gets an alert that they are breaking out.

Hours crawl by, driving Jason nearly insane. But then, the old grandfather clock strikes six. Jason has never run so quickly.

Everything is a blur. Getting up to the attic. Getting the chamber open. Helping Tim out and carrying his shaking form downstairs, putting him in the car. He puts the key in the ignition and cannot believe it when the engine actually comes to life. Then, Jason shuts down his brain and just drives.