#cw child emotional abuse mention

[lynzishell]

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Content Warning: The discussion in today's post contains mention of childhood emotional abuse, dissociation, and self harm. Please proceed with caution or skip if needed.

Phoenix: Why don’t you talk to your parents anymore? What happened? Dawn: Nothing happened… Fine, if I tell you, can we never talk about this again? Phoenix: Sure.

Dawn: [pauses briefly to think about how to explain] I don’t like talking about them because I don’t like to remember what it felt like… It’s just that… they didn’t care about us at all. If they did, they never showed it. The ONLY thing they cared about was appearances. We were always expected to look and act a certain way, and I swear I could never get it right. I was too loud and too messy. And when I disappointed them, which was all the time, they would just… ignore me. They wouldn’t look at me or speak to me. It was like I’d cease to exist. It was devastating.

Dawn: When I was little, I didn’t understand, so I would throw massive tantrums trying to get them to acknowledge me. I’d scream and cry and tug on them. Eventually, they’d look at me, but they’d just laugh. Like it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever seen. Atlas never tried that, he shut down early on and would just stay in his room. Eventually, I gave up and did the same. I don’t think they ever really wanted us.

Phoenix: That’s awful. Why would they try so hard to have children if they didn’t want them? Dawn: Because that’s what was expected of them.

Phoenix: Can I ask you one more thing? Dawn: What? Phoenix: The scars on your arm…. Why? Because of them or…?

Dawn: Um, yeah, I guess. It’s hard to explain… Sometimes I would wonder if I was a real person, like I really wasn’t sure. I was always trying to do everything perfectly, to get it right. There was a part of me for a long time that worried if I didn’t, I might actually disappear one day. Not like dying, but just like, ‘poof’ from existence. And I’d get really upset And I’d feel disconnected from myself, like I wasn’t really in my body but outside it, and it was scary. But this [rolling back her sleeve], it helped... I’d feel the sting and see red, and it would bring me back into my body and remind me that I was real. And I’d feel better for a little while.

Dawn: I don’t get it. They’re the only two people in the world who were supposed to love me… unconditionally… like instinctually… and they didn’t. I never understood why. I never understood what was so wrong with me. Phoenix: Nothing. You are the best person I know, Dawn. Just because they clearly don’t have the capacity to love, doesn’t mean you were ever unlovable. I’m glad they’re not in your life anymore. They don’t deserve to be.

Phoenix: I love you so much. I promise, I will do everything I can to make sure you feel loved every single day. Dawn: You already do.

Dawn: Promise me something else? Phoenix: Anything. Dawn: Don’t ever give me the silent treatment, okay? No matter how angry I make you. Phoenix: Never. I promise.

Dawn: Thank you. I love you. Phoenix: I love you too.

[wisteriasymphony]

Hey could you do some headcanons with Adrien haveing a twin sister or younger sister by a year?

Oh, buddy, I am perhaps the worst person to ask! Let's use Eloise for the sister's name.

- Adrien and Eloise have an incredibly, unsettlingly codependent relationship. The emotional neglect led to the siblings fulfilling way more of each other's emotional needs than they probably should have.

- Adrien was Emilie's favorite because Emilie is a boy mom. Gabriel did not have a favorite because that would require caring about the kids in general.

- Gabriel will start to get weird about Eloise in a way that he is not about Adrien, simply because she resembles Emilie more due to the virtue of not having a Y chromosome. YMMV on what I mean by "weird", but I definitely feel like she would get sheltered/kept inside even more than Adrien is. This is definitely a big change for Eloise compared to before Emilie's death, where Adrien was the one given more attention in general.

- Both are fairly academically inclined due to all of that homeschooling, but Eloise is probably put into ballet when Adrien is put into fencing. (Not to say she can't also like fencing, I just think the Agreste parents aren't immune to following gender roles)

- Both are also forced to model, often together. They tend to disassociate in sync, it's a neat party trick! Any commercials/Disney Channel Originals/etc they're in tend to rely hard on the twin/sibling factor.

- I could definitely see a sort of Lyney/Lynette dynamic from them (if you're vaguely familiar with Genshin)

- Adrien is definitely exposed to more physical abuse than Eloise, while Eloise's is usually non-physical. Of course, Adrien has the usual brotherly sense of "I never want my sibling to go through what I've gone through", so he puts up with a lot under the pretense that it will protect Eloise.

- ^ He is wrong.

[theartofeverything]

Alrighty y’all, Mutant Mayhem spoilers ahead

There was a gosh darn lot I loved about this movie the soundtrack and animation were fantastic, the turtles were hilarious, and the emotions were strikingly realistic. Out of all the beautiful details in this masterpiece though, the thing that stands out to me the most is the significance of Superfly.

There was a line during the chase scene where the turtles are trying to get away with the last piece of the doomsday machine that made my blood run cold. Wingnut is trying to convince them to change their minds and surrender the piece. “Just turn it over before Superfly gets here because when he does he’s not going to be nice about it.” (Dang I really wish the script was available so I could get the exact wording, but this was the gist of it) Donnie replies that she’s already not being nice and her response is “Trust me, Superfly’s going to be a lot less nice.”

There was fear in her voice.

She’s flying in front of them, frantically trying to get them to give up before it’s too late because she’s terrified of her older brother and what he’ll do to them.

A lot of things all start clicking into place after that. Superfly had to raise his siblings on his own in a hostile world. His response to all that fear and hate was violence. None of his siblings were ever really on board with his grand genocidal plan but they went along with it because he told them it was the only way they’d be safe and accepted.

From the way he tries to intimidate and manipulate the kid turtles he supposedly just accepted as cousins, (“you’re not as cool as I thought you were.” ‘If you try to go against me I’ll have to kill you’) to little lines like Rocksteady figuring out that maybe Superfly is the reason he’s always angry, to the big central line that makes Splinter question his parenting choices (“my way is the only way you can be safe and happy”), Superfly has all the hallmarks of an abusive caregiver.

In light of that, the rest of the story takes on a lot more meaning. His younger siblings didn’t want to follow in his footsteps but they went allong with it because they had nowhere else to go, not until the turtles offered them a new home and a new family.

Seeing the whole community of New York come together to help this newly formed family and fight Superfly after that nearly brought me to tears.

This is something I need to see so badly in the real world. We need safe places for kids to go when the people they depend on to survive are hurting them. We need people willing to love and protect them. We need communities working together to support them.

I would have given anything for that kind of chance as a kid.

Thank you Mutant Mayhem for showing us what a happy ending looks like in those kind of situations. I hope the world will learn a thing or two.

[msfcatlover]

IWCTW!Damian having to relearn how to suppress his stims, because his grandfather doesn’t like it, after nearly 20yrs of learning how to feel comfortable with expressing himself. 

(Clark catching Damian stimming, only for Damian to immediately try to bluff his way out of it, because it’s been months back with the League and Damian’s relearned that stimming is dangerous. Clark starts showing up with potential stim-toys, being super-casual and even framing some of them as requests. Like, “I’ve been thinking about giving something like this to my son, can you test it and make sure it both works and is safe please? Oh no, you can keep that one. I’ll get Jon another.”)

[starryvomit]

no one talks about how hard it is to set and respect boundaries when you lived your entire life relying on everybody but yourself in hard situations.

i have allowed toxicity to follow me around for a lifetime because i relied on abusive parental guidance for over 20 years.

breaking the cycle is incredibly difficult.

and anybody even trying to learn boundary-setting deserves recognition and celebration.

you endured hard things. you can do hard things. you know because you have done so your entire life.

believe in yourself

even when nobody else does.

[rhondafromhr]

Chapter 3 of the nerds corruption au

Update: this is still consuming my life and I’m not even mad about it. I’m just straight up having a good time.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“We’re Gonna Become the Bullies” - Chapter 3: Hold Me Closer Than Before

Peter can’t believe he’s actually doing this. He’s going to go confront Brad Callahan. Not only that, he has Max goddamn Jägerman psyching him up to do it. The same Max Jägerman that was beating him up for trying to talk to Steph not even a week ago. If Max still objected to it now, he probably would’ve said something about them holding hands, so it looks like they have his blessing. Pete’s really glad Steph joined them. It’s both endearing and kind of hot how fired up she is to defend him.

They finally track Brad down in the hallway and corner him. Max takes the lead, shoving him up against a locker and snarling, “Did I not make myself clear that Spankoffski is off-limits now? Who the fuck do you think you are that you get to talk to him like that? The order of things here at Hatchetfield High has changed and there’s nothing your weak ass can do about it, so you’re going to show him some goddamn respect from now on.”

“Oh, what, just because I called him one little name? He’s suddenly too cool for ‘Micro-Peter’ just ‘cause you said so?” Brad fires back.

“What are you, new here? Yes he fucking is, that’s how it works! Don’t forget, I’m your god,” Max says, staring him down with unbridled fury in his eyes “And now, so are these two. So we’re going to make sure the message gets through your thick skull this time. Steph, I believe you mentioned something you’ve always dreamed of doing.” Max restrains him while Stephanie raises her arm and backhands him hard, her other one still gripping Pete’s. How’s that for learning to multitask, Miss Tessburger? she thinks smugly. God, that was fucking cathartic.

Max turns his attention to Peter, Brad still in his grip. “Okay, Pete, you’re up! Throw a punch, show me what you’ve got!”

Peter reluctantly lets go of Stephanie’s hand and begins winding up his fist. He has no idea what he’s doing. The closest he’s ever gotten to a fight was that one time he tried to stand up to Max and that didn’t exactly work out in his favor. Or maybe it did? It was the catalyst for the Waylon place incident, which is the whole reason he’s in Max’s good graces. But, he realizes, if he wants to stay there, it would do him some good to impress Max and not throw a weak, half-assed punch right now. To motivate himself, he thinks back to the pantsing incident, growing angrier and angrier as he remembers how small and humiliated and helpless Brad made him feel. Suddenly, punching Brad square in the face as hard as he can stops being an obligation to hesitantly fulfill and becomes a long-overdue opportunity he absolutely relishes. As Pete’s fist slams into his face, Brad tries to play it off like it doesn’t hurt, but the pained groan he lets out is unmistakable. Holy cow, Pete realizes, he gave him a black eye!

“Good job! That was actually really good for a first try. I could feel the righteous fury just radiating off of you. Chills. I’ve got chills right now,” Max says encouragingly.

“Oh, um, thanks. That’s what I was going for,” Pete replies, a little dazed.

“You, too, Steph. The form on that slap? Absolutely impeccable. You might even be able to teach me a few things.”

“Well, I have been training for this. At this point I’ve probably done like ten thousand practice runs of this scenario in my head,” Stephanie deadpans.

“Well, team, this has been fun, but we’ve gotta get to class now, so this trash’ll just have to deposit itself into the nearest receptacle!” Max releases Brad, who books it to get away from them. Looks like their message sunk in.

Later that day, Peter sits in Calc and as hard as he tries to focus, his mind keeps wandering back to the incident with Brad. Even if he didn’t do it alone, he can’t believe he actually beat somebody up. He feels like he should feel at least a little bit guilty, but he doesn’t, and he feels a little guilty for that. Then again, why should he? When has Brad been anything but a complete asshole to him? Still, it kind of concerns him how good it felt to be the one in control for once. Before he can dwell on it too much, a stern, clear voice over the intercom interrupts his internal debate.

“Would Stephanie Lauter, Peter Spankoffski and Max Jägerman please report to the principal’s office immediately? I repeat, Stephanie Lauter, Peter Spankoffski and Max Jägerman to the principal’s office.” Well, there’s a sentence he never thought he’d hear. Even just “Peter Spankoffski to the principal’s office” would be unusual. He really should’ve been prepared for this, but the possibility didn’t even cross his mind. Somehow, it felt like being with Max would give him some sort of immunity. He packs his things and stands up to leave, hyper-aware of his classmates’ curious gazes burning into him.

When he arrives outside of Principal Blim’s office, Steph and Max are already there waiting for him. Stephanie slouches in the cheap, blue plastic chair and seems more bored than anything. Much to her father’s dismay, this is a pretty familiar scene for her. Max just looks confused and possibly a little nervous. Peter supposes that makes sense; there’s a good chance he’s never been here, either. Max has been doing stuff like this for years and hasn’t gotten in trouble once. The school cares way more about keeping their star quarterback on the field and beating Clivesdale than they do about bullying. Principal Blim cracks open the door and pokes his head out.

“Oh, good, you’re all here. Take a minute to collect yourselves if you need and come on in. Let’s start a dialogue,” he says.

Stephanie notices how tense the boys both look. She can’t help but crack a smile. It goes without saying that Pete is adorable, but the sight of literal monster Max Jägerman dropping his tough-guy persona and acting like a scared little kid about getting a scolding from their (honestly pretty chill and understanding) principal is pretty entertaining, too. She squeezes Pete’s hand and gives Max a little pat on his shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispers as they all head in. It seems to relax them a little bit.

Principal Blim’s office is surprisingly cramped. Or maybe it just feels that way due to almost every inch of wall being covered in cheesy motivational posters, many of which feature adorable cats in ridiculous situations. Peter thinks maybe it’s supposed to brighten up the room and make it feel less intimidating, but to be honest it’s having the opposite effect on him right now. What is it that Max always says about intent versus impact?

“Well, I assume you all know why I called you here today,” he says gently. Stephanie shakes her head and gives him the most puzzled look she can manage. Max and Pete follow her lead.

“You know, owning up to our mistakes is the first step towards doing better. But you don’t seem quite ready to do that, so I’ll spell it out for you. You’re here because the three of you attacked Brad Callahan this afternoon. Quite frankly, this is, as the kids say, ‘out of pocket’ for all three of you, but especially you, Mr. Spankoffski.” How is this in any way out of pocket for Max? Peter always assumed the school administration chose to look the other way on his behavior, but maybe they really are oblivious to it. “Now, I can’t let this slide without issuing some sort of punishment, but I’m willing to hear you out before I make any decisions. You’re all good kids, why did you lash out at Brad like that?”

“He was, um, he was picking on Hannah Foster again!” Stephanie exclaims “We all saw! He’s always making fun of her for stuff she can’t even help and he won’t stop no matter what we say to him! We had to do something, but we just felt so powerless. Believe me, we didn’t want to resort to violence but we just didn’t know what else to do.” Man, being able to cry on command would be awesome right now. Maybe Ruth knows some theater kids that can teach her.

“Yeah,” Peter adds “we couldn’t just stand by and let him pick on a defenseless freshman! Being a bystander is just as bad as bullying. You said so yourself at the anti-bullying assembly!”

“I did say that,” Principal Blim admits “And this isn't the first I’ve heard about Brad giving Hannah trouble. I can see where you’re coming from. Standing up to bullying is always admirable, although your execution was less than ideal. I’ll let you kids off with a warning for today, but if you see Brad bothering Hannah again please just come to me with your concerns instead of escalating things to the point of physical violence.”

“We will! Thanks, Principal Blim! Go Nighthawks!” says Max cheerfully.

“Mm-hmm. Go Nighthawks, fuck Clivesdale. Stay out of trouble, you three.” On that note, he ushers them out of his office.

Once they’re safely back in the hallway and out of earshot, Max holds one hand out to each of them for a fist bump, which they awkwardly return.

“Good thinking back there,” he tells them “you guys are so smart!”

“We learned it from watching you,” Pete points out “using anti-bullying rhetoric to perpetuate bullying is kind of your signature move. I hate to admit it, but it’s pretty clever. And it clearly works.”

“Yeah, it really came in clutch today. If my dad got a call from the school about this, he’d hold my phone hostage even longer. You’re kind of genius for coming up with it,” Stephanie adds.

Max sniffles. “Thanks. That’s, like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Wow,” says Stephanie, feeling a sense of déjà vu “that’s really sad.”

“I guess it is.” Max chuckles. “It’s just, I don’t feel smart most of the time. I have horrible grades in most of my classes, even remedial algebra. My dad’s always on my ass about it, too. Says I’m lucky I can throw a football because I don’t even have two brain cells to rub together.”

“Well, what the fuck does he know, anyway?” Stephanie spits, suddenly furious at this man she’s never met. This hits way too close to home for her. “Grades aren’t everything. Look at me, my grades are abysmal, but read my takes on Twitter sometime. Some say I’m the voice of a generation.” She hopes her encouragement makes him feel a little better, at least, but she knows all too well that it’s not enough to heal years of having a shitty dad who loathes your existence and devalues you at every opportunity. She thinks of the striking parallel to her own father’s favorite jab: “I want to have an intelligent conversation with you. In other words, shut up.”

“I concur,” says Pete “Ruth and Richie both have really good grades and they’re absolute disasters sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love ‘em both, but it’s true. Even they’d probably agree with me. Ruth’s an anomaly, I’ll never understand how somebody who regularly blows off homework to write erotic Star Wars fanfiction keeps her GPA so- You know what, I’m getting a little off-topic, but the point is you’re smarter than you think you are, Max.”

A lump forms in Max’s throat and his eyes water. “Thanks, guys. That, uh, that means a lot.” He pulls them into a group hug more gently than either of them would have thought possible for him. They hug him back tightly and after a solid thirty seconds they reluctantly let go. Honestly, all three of them could stand to be hugged more.

[troythecatfish]

Here’s my personal recommendation of a YouTube video to check out:

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[ribesrubrum]

under the mask of pride (fear rises as a guide)

//so i feel...honestly, a little guilty for how little i've been around as of late, especially since things are picking up drama-wise. irl debuffs aplenty will do that to you. but i wanted to get some writing out to kind of describe Carmine's mental state, so. here we are.

//fair warning: this fic is technically kind of offscreen rp in that it's at least canon that ren and carmine talked like this, though i'd greatly prefer it not be spread as a rumor or leak or something. but it also does talk about some heavy topics; namely very heavy self loathing, some mention of parental abandonment and abuse (heehoo headcanoning carmine's parents/why she's like this), mentions of bullying, self harm in the form of hair pulling/trichotillomania, and uh. ...look i'm not gonna beat around the bush, i don't wanna edgelord, i wanna treat this with respect but i also don't wanna sugarcoat it, this gets about as close to implying carmine was about to take drastic measures to alleviate her suffering as i'm comfortable with getting. the less implicit version of this warning will be in the tags. please uncollapse the tags before reading. dead dove: do not eat is in full effect here.

//this is going to be pretty heavy, and also stupid long. feel free to click if you're okay with handling that.

Carmine's listlessness has only grown as the days have worn on, she's finding. It doesn't help that her knuckles are still raw from punching her wall a day prior--she's thankful it seems like the wall fix went off without a hitch, and all she got was a rather stern talking to about making noise so late at night before the teacher that spoke with her went off. Cardigan's been sticking close to her side since Leavanny elected to stay near Kieran at least for a time, but even now, she feels pathetic for it.

Pathetic that she can't help her brother. Pathetic that she can't help her girlfriend, who simply wants to make sure that the whole club that they built together and maintained isn't destroyed because of Drayton's boneheaded move. If Carmine looked deep within herself, she'd be looking at Kiki's actions too, that he allowed this, that he's possibly setting himself up to lose everything. That Drayton's encouraging it, and she's been more on edge than ever and ready to tear someone apart for it. If she doesn't wind up punching him out when all is said and done, she's going to be very surprised.

Cardigan trills a bit from beside her, and she looks down to the flower-less Lilligant, pausing a bit as she looks down. She recognizes that trill, and knows that she's probably being concerning right now. Emotional regulation is still something that Carmine struggles with, even now, knowing that she can't and she shouldn't scream her feelings out to try and get people to understand, that yelling doesn't help, that you have to see other's perspectives. Even if sometimes, they trounce all over your own. Carmine looks down to Cardigan, giving the Lilligant a tired smile.

"...Sorry, Cardi. I know I'm probably not making your job very easy." It's soft in a way Carmine never usually is. In a way that Carmine never allows herself to be--she's all bravado and arrogance because for years, that's what kept her safe. That's what kept her and her brother safe, even if it clipped his wings and made everyone around her hesitant to approach either of them. It was safety, the thorns and briars that she metaphorically planted around herself, letting them spread where she walked and lashing them out at anyone who would even for a second think of hurting her. It was safety, it was lonely, but it was home.

...It's no wonder she likes grass types so much. The Lilligant's gaze only seems to get sadder when she says that much, gentle, leafy hands going to take one of her own as Cardigan stares up at her, as if trying to communicate something with those amber eyes that almost seem pleading. Carmine's hand trembles a bit, because once again she doesn't understand, she can't understand, why can't she--

Carmine hears footsteps, and immediately, her guard is up. She's immediately ready to go on the attack, in case anyone saw her, in case she has to defend being out for a walk in the Canyon Biome with her therapy Pokemon, something she's already received plenty of jabs about--but no. There's a familiar mop of blue hair, and that silly, dorky looking Orthworm is following them and waving with them, as Terry and Mio seem to take over where they left off. Ren's an idiot, in the bluntest of terms, but there's a sense of safety that comes with them. That they can see her, at her worst and most cruel, and laugh and let it slide off their back so easily. Because they were her age once. Her gender once, even, though that's largely irrelevant. They always seem so certain and keep their spirits so high, even if she's the only one they've trusted with some of their worries. And Carmine in turn, has trusted Ren with some of hers.

...They're about as disconnected from this entire situation as they can be, even though they met during that trip. It's as Carmine is contemplating going up to them and being a bother and just turning heel and walking away that the choice is made for her, as they turn around, start walking and see her--

"Oh! Miss Carmine, hey!"

She could walk away. She could just tell them to piss off and lash out, and destroy one of the few unconnected relationships she has with this entire mess, one of the few things that's genuinely hers. She could recede inside herself, lock herself away like she did after she reached her breaking point, when she nearly...

"Hey, Ren. Finally getting your nose out of those cameras?"

The barb is light, half-hearted at best, and could probably make someone deeply passionate a little upset at being teased. And yet Ren takes it in stride, laughing easily as they walk up, Lulu going to Cardigan and just kind of talking with the Lilligant for a moment. "You know it, girlie! Arc, all of these worms are doin' so well, they ain't overwhelmin' the environment nor gettin' overwhelmed themselves--everything's so perfect right now, it's really amazing! Ohh, I gotta tell you about some of the babies, they're just--"

For a brief moment, Carmine thinks she can just get away with Ren going on a hyperfixation ramble and forgetting her own worries in favor of focusing on the things her rival has accomplished. Because it is quite the accomplishment, even if Carmine's definitely harped on them for trying to downplay it before. But their gaze goes to Cardigan and Lulu, falling quickly and their words fading off as Carmine looks, and now everyone looks concerned.

Carmine's posture tightens as she realizes she can't get away with this so easily. She feels their gaze dart back to her, and she's already sure her expression is stormy, and...

"...I think that's enough about me." Fuck. Their voice has softened considerably, and she knows she's done for. "Miss Carmine, are you--"

"I'm fine, Ren." It comes out too sharp, too defensive, and there's a brief moment where she's hoping Ren will just walk away at that. She's shaking, she knows she is, and her gaze averts a bit only to feel not just Cardigan, but Lulu--that stupid, brainless worm--take her hands, wrapping them both in leaves and tendrils, and it feels disgusting and bitter and she wants to run and hide, she wants to tear her hands away--

"...Miss Carmine." Ren's voice sounds so soft, so...sad for a moment, and there's a pause as more footsteps can be heard--Carmine doesn't even bother to flinch, but she feels a tug on both of her hands as she opens her eyes, seeing Ren nod at both Pokemon before looking to her with a smile that's both soft and sad.

"Come on, Miss Carmine. Let's go somewhere else to talk, okay?"

---------------------------------------------

The trip back to her room is arduous, even though it barely takes more than fifteen minutes. Every agonizing second feels like a walk of shame, but she realizes something along the way. It's only so long because Ren knows their way around here like the back of their hand now; they know where people aren't, because they aren't some social butterfly who likes to help in every club. They take her through an easy but arduous path that leaves her alone in her head, and it takes a couple of second after Ren's stopped for her to stop too.

"...You must have a lot on yer mind to be makin' mistakes like this, Miss Carmine." Ren's voice is soft, non-judgemental, and they don't even flinch when she turns back to face them with something of a severe expression. It's the kind of care and kindness she doesn't deserve, she's sure, but as she unlocks the door to her room and ushers Ren and their Pokemon inside, it's something she finds herself internally thankful for.

Carmine's room is a mess, perhaps moreso than usual. Stress eating will do that, bags of chips and other sweet and savory alike strewn about. Cardigan doesn't even seem surprised, but Lulu, bless his stupid little soul, seems taken aback by it as he draws himself inside. She hears Ren's footsteps as they close the door behind them, a small sound escaping them as they walk in front of Carmine.

"You want some help cleanin' off that bed of yours?" Carmine looks over at her messy, disheveled bed, and it's many snacks and wrappers as well. It's an absolute Tepigsty, more than she'd ever allow anyone to see. She feels herself listlessly nod her head as she looks over to Ren, who's concern hasn't dampened even an inch as they move to help in an instant. She's thankful she's got a vacuum and that it's early enough in the afternoon that nobody's likely around the dorms; Cardigan and Lulu both assist as well as they help clear it off, at least enough to let Carmine sit down on it once they're all done.

Cardigan hops on the bed with Carmine as she sits down, and Lulu rests his head near Ren's feet as he gets himself comfortable on the floor, and Ren looks to her, finally broaching the topic, "Ya look like you got a lot on yer mind, Miss Carmine. You sure everything's okay?"

It takes Carmine a lot longer than she'd like to respond. Cardigan gently takes hold of one of Carmine's hands, gently petting it with her own leafy appendage. The eventual response she settles on is a bitter laugh.

"...I don't know." It comes out so soft and uncertain, it feels like she's a different person entirely when she says it. "I thought everything was fine. I thought...I don't know, I thought that everything would be okay. I really let myself believe that now that I made up with my brother, that everything would go back to some sort of normal, but..."

Carmine's voice pitches higher and higher with every word, and she finds herself shaking a bit. She can't even look at her rival right now, how pathetic can she even get?

"Oh, Carmine..." There's not even that weirdly respectful 'Miss' at the beginning of her name, and a part of her hates that, that she's being seen as sympathetic for even a moment when she doesn't deserve it, she doesn't deserve this, if she'd just trusted Kiki-- "Nothin' is ever that easy, but I remember how relieved ya were when Kiki actually bothered to respond."

"Yeah." Carmine confirms that much, listlessly, but a ghost of a smile traces her face. "...It really filled me with hope, for a second. That maybe things could go back to some sort of normal, that I could really see Kiki for all he is. It wanted to be seen and come into it's own, and I...I didn't know how to do that, but..."

"...But you wanted to try." Ren's words softly intervene. Carmine nods shortly after.

"I wanted to try. I still do. But it's...that big fight happened, and now everything's just...it feels like we're right back where we started."

Carmine's voice breaks a little bit, and try as she might to rein it in, it's harder to get back on track. At this point, she feels, she might as well just give up.

"...I don't know what to do."

Carmine's gaze stays down, because she can't look at Ren, she can't, she just can't. But Ren's words; soft, steady words, a contrast to the cold steel they loved so dearly, pour out none the less.

"...It's a tough position to be in, Carmine. Ya got your brother and it's undyin' need to win on one side, and ya got Miss Amarys tryin' her damnedest to hold everyone together on the other, yeah?"

"Yeah. And it's like--I don't want to destroy the relationship I have with my brother. I want to rebuild it, to let it come into it's own. But I...my beloved is right, even if I worry about saying it. She tries so hard to uphold the rules of the club, of this school, and these--these jerks keep sending her horrible, disgusting things for it. And for what?"

A quiet settles over the room, and she's sure Ren expects her to elaborate, but she doesn't. Not even she knows what, and she's sure Ren gets it by the time they speak up next.

"...I ain't gonna go makin' any assumptions, but...I don't even think I know the answer to that, Carmine."

It's soft, when Ren admits it. Sad, even. She can only imagine what their face is doing right now, and it gets Carmine to laugh a bit. Bitterly, wretchedly.

"Neither do--neither do I, Ren. And do you know how much that kills me?"

Carmine's voice pitch rises, and she feels her free hand drawing into her hair, Cardigan's trills of concern becoming more apparent as she tries to hop over and dislodge it--

"I love Kiki! I love Amarys! I love them both more than life itself and I--if I say anything at all, I'm going to hurt one of them. Both of them, even, maybe, whether I intend it or not! And the little Mandibuzzes on here, flying around and trying to hurt everyone in this school, they'll be on it in an instant, they'll--they'll hurt them both, they'll turn them both against each other, and I--if I do anything, they already know it's my fault from the start, that all of this is, that I was stupid and boneheaded and lied to my brother because I was scared it could've gotten hurt--"

"Miss Carmine."

"--and I told Juliana to lie, yes, I got so worried that Kiki would just get so excited and that Ogerpon could've hurt or done something worse to it, but then my grandfather told me to keep my mouth shut about helping Ogerpon and I--I didn't--"

"Miss Carmine."

"--And then it--it stole her mask, and I've never been more angry in my life at it, and it just--it keeps stomping on others feelings, and it won't believe anyone, and I don't know what I can actually do--"

"Miss Carmine, please--!"

"WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

Carmine's shriek practically causes her to lunge at her friend, the firm tone in that moment making her see someone else. Wide yellow eyes fiercely stare at bright blue ones, as Ren startles a bit at the ferocity in her tone. The quiet over the room is tense and uneasy, and Ren already sees a few strands got torn out because of it. They take a gentle breath in as realization hits Carmine, but she's still for a moment. Still as Cardigan trills with concern, as Lulu looks up with even more concern on his dopey little face, though he looks ready to hold Carmine back more than anything.

Ren's surprisingly quick on the uptake, at least, and they speak up again before Carmine can.

"Isn't that somethin' you should be askin' of yourself?"

Ren's words are confusing, and the confusion must be apparent on her face as they reach her ears. Ren gently breathes, and continues, "I mean it. You've been talkin' this entire time about Kiki this, Amarys that, and I ain't gonna disparage you for that. Sure puts any rumors of ya bein' self centered to bed, not that I believed 'em anyway. But..."

"What is it that ya want, at the end of it all? Isn't that a question that's come up even once for ya...?"

Carmine can't even believe what she's hearing.

"Why does that matter? I've taken what I wanted for years, I--"

"Okay, you hold on a second here." Ren's words are still soft, but there's a firmness to them now that cuts through her words like butter. "When did that stop bein' a question you asked yerself?"

"It doesn't matter--"

"It absolutely does matter? Girl, yer gettin' tugged in two different directions and ya sound like yer long past the end of yer rope."

"Why does it matter when I've been nothing but a selfish bitch this entire time?!"

And that startles Ren enough to actually get them to stop for a second, completely taken aback. Carmine's gaze goes downward, and she's shaking, horribly.

"Those anons were right, okay?! I ruined Kiki's one good friendship because I'm a bonehead, I'm a failure of a girlfriend who can't even help the girl I love so much with her anger and problems other than just being there like a useless cardboard cutout, I deserve this, all of it, even all of the hateful words and it would've just been so much easier if I had--"

Something stops Carmine in her tracks from speaking. Multiple of them, really. Cardigan's hands, for starters, wrapped firmly around one of her own hands; two of Lulu's tendrils wrap around the other, and even Carmine has to admit that she's surprised by how little an Orthworm's head seems to weigh as he rests his head on one of her legs with concern.

The final thing, that she didn't even hear, is Ren getting up and putting a firm, supportive hand on her shoulder, tiny as said hand is. When she actually gets a look at their face, they look like they're about to cry, and for a brief moment she wonders if she's just gone and ruined another friendship.

"Don't--don't you dare talk about yerself like that again, you hear me?"

Oh. That's not what she expected at all; Ren's voice practically trembles as they say that, and it hits something in her. Carmine's eyes well up with tears of her own, and she can practically hear herself sniffling.

"...I'm sorry, Ren." Her voice is so soft, so delicate, so fragile in the moment that she wonders if it's her own. "I'm...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm..."

"I know you are." Ren's voice softens from that point on, and their grip becomes a little easier. A little more slack, but still there. "When did ya stop seein' yerself as someone not worth considerin' the feelin's of, girl...?"

"...I don't know. It was...before that. Maybe when Amarys and Kiki fought that one time. I--I don't know." Carmine's voice is shaky as she struggles to keep herself together, and she feels Cardigan shift and pull her arm into a hug, and the tears start pouring down at that. She can't stop them, even if she's not a sobbing wreck with no dignity. Yet, at least. "...I don't want to lose anything else."

That gets a pause from Ren, who does their best to calm themself down. "Anything else...?"

"...My parents are divorced. My dad was...he was awful. Just a screaming, bumbling oaf who went from job to job while my mom stayed home and took care of us. Though she was...she was way more focused on Kiki..."

Ren listens carefully, nodding their head as Carmine continues.

"I haven't seen either of them in...years. We usually live with our grandparents, when we're not here. Last time I saw my mom, we got into an argument. I asked her why she stopped caring for me. Why she just...tried to leave me with him--"

"...She what?"

Carmine spares a quick glance at Ren's face, when they say that--practically seething with an anger they don't usually express. "...Yeah. She--she said she could only handle one of us, and that I was Dad's favorite, so..."

"Girl." Ren's doing their best to keep their tone level, but the anger doesn't leave. Hell, if anything, it mixes with the sheer unholy audacity of what they heard, leaving them flabberghasted-- "What the fuck is wrong with your mom?"

Carmine laughs, and while it sounds bitter, there's almost some mirth to it. "Yeah. Like I said. We got into an argument last time I talked to her. I told her I wanted an apology for her trying to abandon me, before Dad went and ran away. I...haven't spoken to her since."

"Carmine...what the fuck, that's so..."

A silence hangs over the room as Ren trails off, but Carmine breaks the silence after a few moments.

"...Between this, and the rest of the shit I dealt with at school...I...I didn't want Kiki to turn out like me." Carmine sniffles, tears still coming unbidden. "I thought you had to be tough and mean to make it, but I just...I wanted Kiki to grow up happy. I wanted it to have a better life than me. I was this bitter, mean girl, but I thought I could at least make it so my little brother--it'd have a chance at growing up to be a gentle hearted little dork who had something happy in it's life. But all I did...it all just amounted to...to..."

There's a few seconds more of sniffling before the dam finally breaks, and Carmine just starts to sob without an end. She's pretty sure her makeup is running down her face, if it hasn't been already; she finally just breaks, her tears pouring and pouring down as she sobs wretchedly and loudly, her hands finally being relinquished so she can try, in vain, to wipe those tears off. But still they come; the pain of so much more than a simple inciting incident, but still mostly that.

Ren uses their own free hand to wipe away the tears falling from their own eyes, as they just let her for a bit.

"...I want to stop hurting." Carmine speaks up, and Ren starts for a moment as they listen. "I want to stop feeling like the evil person that everyone thinks I am. But what if I'm just born evil, and there's no changing that...?"

"That's--" Ren speaks up, briefly, but Carmine speaks again and they let her get it out of her system.

"I want to make things better. I want to just know if it's all my fault, I want to know if I'm just--if I'm justified, in being unable to forgive Kiki for some of the stuff it did." Carmine sniffles again, wretched sobs still escaping her. "...I want to be able to be happy again, without feeling like I'm walking on eggshells. I want to make my girlfriend's pain go away--I want to make Kiki's pain go away, and fuck, maybe even Atlas' and some of the others. I want the world to just stop for a bit, at least so I can stop aching like this. I...I think I just want, more than anything, for someone to tell me I've suffered enough for this, or at the very least, that I just haven't grown up to become a little clone of Dad."

"...Is that so much to ask?"

The question is soft, full of despair, but it at least feels...somewhat good, to try and dislodge some of the thorns in her. It's painful and it feels dizzying, but Ren's hand remains steady, even if their own tears come down hard.

"...You're a teenager. A teenager shouldn't--you shouldn't ever have to ask that kind of shit of yourself." Ren's words are soft, with an empathy forged in the same shit they went through. Just without a depressive spiral and a shut-in phase. "You deserve to be happy, Carmine. You made a dumb, boneheaded mistake, but that doesn't mean you're evil. And it sure as fuck don't mean that you've gone and become your Dad."

Carmine pauses a bit, her sobs coming slower as she tries to listen.

"None of that shit yer askin' about, none of it's too much. But how's anyone else gonna be happy--how can ya share happiness with others if ya ain't gettin' happiness for yerself, y'know?"

"Because ya do deserve it. Whether ya want to admit it or not. Yer not evil, yer not your dad, you're literally a confused sixteen year old girl who should've never been made to feel like that."

It's shocking to hear, really. All of it is. Ren says it with so much conviction that Carmine almost believes it.

"...I don't want to talk anymore. I...I think I just want to...cry..."

"...Cry as much as you need, girl. I'll be here as long as you need."

"Don't--don't tell anyone about this, Ren. Please. Everyone has enough to worry about, and I...I don't want to put more on them. Please, I already feel bad enough burdening you..."

Ren manages something of a soft, warm chuckle at that. "...No worries, girl. What we talked about is stayin' in here, I swear on my life."

"...Thank you, Ren."

Carmine cries herself out eventually; by the time she's done, the two of them have shifted from the bed to the floor, bringing Carmine's mattress down to floor level so they could distract themselves until Carmine fell asleep. It's no easy fix, listening to a friend, but...if it makes the burden lighter, then Ren has no problem with it.

They were in a similar place many years ago with no one to help them, after all. It's the least they can do.

[burning-sol]

I can NOT be relied on for good taste because the amount of overlap between things I like and things that are objectively good or reasonable to recommend to people are off the table. I like "bad" singing because voice cracks sound good to me, I want to be visually blasted with janky animation, I want dialogue and vocal delivery that is unnatural in fascinating ways...

Mouthwashing was good but you know what its imagery didn't quite hit the same as in the vocaloid song "Our Anniversary" when Miku playfully and neurotically is rocking her head back and forth, a pitch black figure with a crow in the background, compressed voice humming speeding up and slowing down frantically, and you can tell that she is giddy thinking that she IS death and yet there is some part of her that is disturbed and trying to desperately not think about how she brutally murdered someone until she can no longer not think about it.

You made an entire game about an abusive figure coping with the guilt of their horrible misdeeds? Sorry but barely any of that imagery stuck to my brain and here is who youre losing to

To get on my list of media I most thoroughly enjoy you have to *flips through clipboard* make your art worse

[enbygirlblogging]

do you ever experience a wild moment of sudden empathy for everyone in the world. like yeah i knew a guy who bullied people a lot, and who i really used to hate, but then i found out he got beaten by his stepdad and watched his sister die a horrible and graphic death first-hand, and suddenly the hate didn't come so easy. yeah i knew a girl who abused me for the better half of my life, but looking back, she also definitely had no one in the world who loved her, including her own family. my issues with her are a lot more personal, but i just don't have it in me to really loathe her the way i once did. i've never had a good relationship with my father, but he never had a parent worth looking up to. and i'm not saying any of that trauma excuses being a horrible human being, and i'm not saying you have to forgive everyone who ever wronged you, or even really that you should.

but i guess i'm saying maybe i forgive the people who wronged me.

[ashersbraincell]

!TWs in tags!

Live reaction to randomly remembering one of the weirdly sexually charged things my mom said to me at an abnormally young age:

[kirshimadenkisero]

are my stretch marks pretty?

is my crooked nose pretty?

are my large, asymmetrical eyes pretty?

are my yellow, crooked teeth pretty?

is the hair on my legs pretty?

is my large forehead pretty?

is my tummy with a happy trail pretty?

are my chewed off nails pretty?

is the hair under my arms pretty?

are my large hips and small chest pretty?

am i too short?

am i too fat?

are my breasts not big enough?

are my hips only good for giving birth to children i do not want?

why am i not good enough for you?

why did you feel the need to humiliate me, a mentally ill child?

why did you call me a slut when i was eleven?

why did you throw my school computer down the stairs?

why did you hit me when i was upset?

why would you let me get attached to all your lovers only for me to never see them again?

why did you lie to me?

why did you withhold water from me when i was thirsty on a four hour hike?

why did you make me go on hikes with you in the summer out in the scorching desert, then get mad at me when i asked to stop?

why did you accuse my brother of pedophilia?

why did you have to call my childhood best friend a whore? that made us drift apart.

why did you make me think abusing people was okay?

why did you make me think that was normal?

that harming others is how to show your love?

why did you scream and hit me when i told you i liked girls and boys?

why did you take away my ipad when my friend was going through the toughest time of their life? they killed theirself, i hope you know that.

why did you ridicule my art? i was so proud of it, why didn’t you at least tell me you were happy i found something i enjoyed?

why did you laugh at me when i was in distress?

why did you drive drunk when i was in the car?

why did you tell me to suck in my stomach because it was too fat when i was in third grade?

why did you threaten to make me walk to my father’s naked and alone? much less when i was ten?

why did you ignore the signs of mental illness?

why did i ever call you mother?

[returnedfromthepurge]

I still remember.

I remember when I couldn't even stand people talking about the problems they had with their children on a radio show because I was so overloaded with stress about the 20+ children at the daycare I was parenting*. (* What daycare is these days.) I would legitimately get so angry and turn it off for the rest of the ride because I didn't want to hear anything anymore. And I had an hour drive to get home.

I would lay down for sleep and try to do my nightly routines and my mind would play back any sound I'd heard that day, their screaming, the tiny voices shouting my name and their whining. I'd try to do things for stress relief, and needed headphones to separate my mind, to avoid replaying the songs in my head that had to be played all day, because stereo player silence was not looked positively on by management or auditors.

I remember being so sick of the mascots and insisting to the children that they were real, and these characters were the reason for art and music and why we study them. I felt like I was experiencing Corporate Hell and brainwashing three year olds to talk to a plastic sticker on the wall of a mascot when I didn't have time to interact with them. We were encouraged to use that tactic often, when a child would come to us to interrupt, not knowing better of patience.

The main mascot was used as a moral guidepost, however vague.

Everything below the cut is what the tags are about.

I had a parent who told me he was surprised his five year old son was still dressed when he came to pick him up- because at his old daycare, they left him undress whenever.

I never had stress like the day I reported to CPS about a child who'd did and said things that no one his age group should even know about. That child knew evil and it was present in his eyes. I have never wanted violence so desperately, to kill what he had been made into before he got to hurt more people. I wanted to kill a five year old boy and the human creature that turned him into this .His family could die too, the entire bloodline as far as I was concerned. I wanted the satisfaction that I could not have years ago, to kill the one that had possessed someone I'd loved and adored years ago, that was now infested in this child that I could see perfect dullness in his dead eyes. They had no life in them, and I wanted to be the one to be the one who stopped the flow of blood to his diseased mind. I saved many young minds from trauma by resisting that urge in front of them. He was transferred by his parents to a different school.

The day I vented about it to my friend, I was so distracted talking to the phone in the passenger seat, I rear ended someone, and wrecked my vehicle so badly it was undrivable. Everyone was uninjured. It was ruled an accident due to the slick roads. I still think that pickup driver was texting at a green light.

Weeks before I decided I would quit, I sat out beside a large bush next to a fast food place, and tears escaped before I knew why they were coming. I laid in the dirt until it was time to go clock in. A week before, I had had a panic attack terrible enough to take myself to the hospital, afraid what I would do if given the chance to run into traffic .

I bought myself a new shirt on the first day after the hospital, because I was told to be around people, for my own safety. For the days I took to recover, I bought myself a print of that one Louis Wainwright painting , " I am happy because everyone loves me." and framed it a month later.

I don't know that I'm strong enough anymore to handle having children of my own. I think I might be the best example of a person who should not have any. I think I'll be surgically sterilized as soon as possible.

I'm better now. I very truly love the job I'm at. But I know my limits more intimately than I ever thought I could. And I'm never putting myself in a situation again where I'm doing the emotional labor for parents and employers who throw money and gifts at me.

[sickly-honeylamb]

[e-m-p-error]

⏰ The phone call about Javier finding out he had a grandchild

Peek into my muses’ memories! Slip a ⏰to see a memory or a part of my muses’ past. 

OKAY, this is so late, but I did eventually get to it. I've had Dar in my head today so I've been working on these. This thing got long. It's 1,046 words. Because of this, I'm putting some of it beneath a Read More so it's not so long and clogging up people's dashes.

CW: Estranged Family, Emotional Abuse, Neglect, Child Abuse Mention, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[ Darío ]

“You didn’t tell me I had a grandchild.” Naturally, there was no greeting. 

Javier was always very blunt, concise, curt in his every interaction with his estranged son. Darío didn’t know why it stung, why he’d expected anything different, why he let Javier get underneath his skin already. Again. They’d only just gotten on the phone; surely he could handle a simple conversation with the man.

Surely.

They hadn’t spoken since the downright disastrous trip to Mexico right before Darío and Missy’s wedding. As much as he hadn’t wanted to go, as much as he knew how it would go, he also knew there had been no arguing with  Missy over it. When his wonderful, magnanimous, perfect little angel of a wife put her mind to something, when she was locked on target, there was no dissuading her. They had gone, and he had regretted not putting his foot down a little harder.

He still hated how it had gone, how he’d taken her deeper into Mexico to try and lessen the sting of his father’s sharp, cruel remarks. Of course, he couldn’t be happy for Darío just this once. He couldn’t even pretend to be kind even when Darío had something–someone–he wanted.

“Yes.” That was all that Darío wanted to say. In fact, he was tempted to hang up the off-yellow phone, let the cord dance beneath it for a few years with the harshness with which he’d slam it on the hook.

“Why did I hear about her from Imelda and not you, hijo?”

As if he didn’t already know the answer to that question. It had been three years since the last time they’d spoken, and Darío thought it was still too soon.

“You wouldn’t want to meet her,” Darío began coldly, his steely gaze slicing through the kitschy wallpaper in his kitchen, “She is already willful,” He added, “And very much like her mother. My wife is a wonderful influence on her.” Even if she’d proven a daddy’s girl already, favoring her father’s attention, he couldn’t stop himself from being petty. Javier really brought out the worst in him.

Javier went silent on the other end of the line, and for a second Darío expected the dial tone. No goodbye, no notice, just an abrupt tone, but to his surprise it didn’t come.

“Her name.” At first, that was all he said. It was an accusation and a quizzical statement all at once. Javier had never understood naming babies after the deceased, in their name. It hurt to see the name going to someone else. 

“Yurena,” Darío supplied, his tone almost conversational, “She deserves to be remembered.”

“I do remember her.” The years of being part of a cartel bled into Javier’s voice, a dark rumble that held a barely concealed threat crawled out of his throat, “She doesn’t–”

“It doesn’t matter.” Darío retorted sharply, his glare tearing through the drywall to bore a hole ten miles deep into the neighboring houses, “Whatever you have to say about my life, my wife, or my daughter. It doesn’t matter.  I am a father, now. I will be a father to my daughter and a husband to my wife. There will be none of this… This…” He didn’t have the word in any language that he spoke. Imposter would have fit, maybe, but the word didn’t even glance off of his brain, “I will not be you.”

For the first time in all of his life, the thirty-two-year-old slammed the phone on the hook with no intention of ever speaking to that man again, not giving his father the chance to say anything else. Seconds later, the phone rang again and he lifted the receiver only to hang up immediately after. 

The phone was left off the hook on the counter, and Darío stormed from the room like a man possessed. He was a Missy-seeking missile, finding his wife and daughter lying on the couch. Missy was only somewhat paying attention to the cartoon playing on the television, and Yurena was asleep against her chest.

“Honey? Are you–”

She didn’t get to finish before he sunk to his knees, kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and gently wrapping Yurena’s tiny hand in one of his large, rough ones.

“I will not be like him.”

Instantly, she knew what was wrong. The ringing phone, the dial tone she could hear from here, it all made sense. Sitting up slightly, she nudged his nose with hers, her eyelids falling shut.

“You’ve never been like him.” She informed gently, and he turned his head to take her lips in a gentle but firm kiss, “He’s not worth your energy, Honey.” Javier brought nothing but bad vibes.

“He’s not worth the air he breathes.” It was a threat in and of itself, but Darío would never seek to do anything about it. The only thing that would change would be Javier’s sudden arrival; if he ever saw his father again, he didn’t know what he would do. The lack of control he felt there was concerning, so he shifted his focus, “Let me lay with you.”

Helping Missy up off the couch, carefully keeping Yurena comfortable in her mother’s arms, Darío laid out with his legs spread. Laying between them and against his chest and stomach, Missy shifted onto her side to let Yurena rest against both of her parents.

“What are we watching?”

“I don’t know, it came on after the news.” Missy informed, “I’m still a little tired. She sure was fussy last night.”

“I think she dislikes the thunder.” The storm had been short-lived but its effects had lasted the length of the night. When the sun peeked over the horizon, she seemed pacified in its light. It brought a smile to her father’s lips just thinking about it, “She’s safe, now. We could all use a nap.”

“We could.” Missy agreed, turning to look up at her lover with a soft, knowing smile, her brow drawn in in concern, “You’re safe, too. We all are.”

Her words comforted him enough to pull a tender smile onto his face and he nodded.

“As long as I live and breathe, you two will be safe.” It was a promise he would see through to its end.

[ashersbraincell]

I feel like the sheer trauma of being bullied at school isn’t talked about near enough.

Imo, it is comparable, though not exactly the same to a difficult domestic situation, ableit obviously without the issues that lack of bonds/comfort/relationship with parental figures bring:

•you’re trapped, you can’t exactly just leave the situation. Be it short-term or long-term leaving, you are trapped in a space with people who want to and do repetitively abuse you.

•school takes place during your childhood, which are your formative years. You cannot convince me this doesn’t make the prolonged trauma and stress you experience during this time have an impact on you and your development as a person.

Idk, it iust feels normalised? Like “oh it’s something everyone goes through at some point”. Why should so many be forced to go through that, though? Why is it so common if it’s obviously so harmful?

With that said, fuck anyone who says shit like “bring back bullying”. You have no idea what you’re saying.