#or upset at her romanticising dark subjects

[taxidermydolls]

every night before i go to sleep i pray to god that nicole dollanganger will never blow up on tiktok not bc i dont want her to be successful but bc tiktok users r so sensitive and lack the ability to comprehend art that is slightly controversial or unconventional

[death--stranded]

i really do want to write a more nuanced post about "romanticisation" and dark fic and taboo topics in fanfiction and ethics - and maybe I will one day - but all I can say right now is the kind of abuse @shortcake-kaspbrak has been receiving is NOT constructive criticism, and it is not acceptable. brooke has never been anything but kind and thoughtful and genuine with me. she has asked me, and others, for my opinions on tagging, on the subjects she writes about - some of which I have personal experience of - and on the things other people have said to her. she does not take lightly the things others tell her. she has used tags when asked to, she has been clear in her author's notes that what she writes is not aspirational romance, but dark and unhealthy and an exploration of the consequences of trauma. she has been transparent about where she draws inspiration from, and has been clear with people that they should not read her fic if the subject matter upsets them. when you choose to prioritise discussions of what constitutes romanticization and abuse of fictional characters over the mental health and happiness and comfort of a living breathing person who has been publically derided and dismissed and had rape and murder wished on them, that make you cruel, and simply proves that the discussion of these sensitive topics is nothing but an academic exercise for you. please, gain some perspective, use the block button, and learn to treat people with respect and kindness, regardless of your personal feelings about them.

[caitbalfes]

Lifeline (3/?)

Jamie & Claire | AU | Claire doesn’t have a husband to return to. Jamie doesn’t have a price on his head. Seems like smooth sailing … right? (AO3)

What is this ??? An update ??? Why yes, yes it is. Also, spot the line I stole from Outlander (Outlander, as in, the first book – or Cross Stitch, really, since that’s the version I’ve read.)

I. An Escape • II. The First Misstep

III. The Barmecide Effect

I hadn’t seen Jamie since he’d been whisked away by his wife—God! His wife. That had certainly been . . . unexpected. I’d thought Jamie was unusually, though pleasantly, open with me. He’d regaled me with stories about himself, his life before Leoch, his family—though not all of his family, apparently. Not his wife. Why had he felt the need to hide that from me?

Because he doesn’t owe you anything, you aren’t friends; you barely know one another.

I almost felt betrayed, which was absurd. But he had saved me and I had healed him. He had ensured I’d be allowed to stay at Leoch despite my being an Englishwoman. He had been nothing but kind, and somehow I’d felt . . . what? That there was something between us? Well, apparently there wasn’t, or at least there couldn’t be. He was married, after all.

Despite all that, I hoped he would come to the hall tonight; otherwise I would have no company save the liquid kind. Alcohol was a fine companion, but not when somewhere filled with people who distrusted you. It wouldn’t do to be careless; I had to be on my guard.

“Mistress Beauchamp!”

So I wasn’t to be alone, after all. He stood on the other side of the room, waving. He needn’t have waved for I could see him perfectly even from a distance. His height alone distinguished him, and then there was his red hair.

I walked over to him, glass in hand, as he was the only person here, save perhaps Mrs Fitz, that I trusted. I certainly didn’t trust Colum, nor did he trust me—he’d made that perfectly clear.

Jamie had taken a seat by the time I reached him. He indicated for me to sit next to him, and so I did.

Neither of us said a word to the other. I sipped my Rhenish and kept my gaze on Gwyllyn the Bard, trying to focus on his lyrics. Though I didn’t understand them, I found them beautiful and serene.

As though he could read my mind, Jamie said, “I could translate some of the lyrics for ye, Mistress.”

I nodded, but didn’t look at him.

Jamie leaned closer, and I felt his hot breath on my cheek as he whispered the English lyrics in my ear.

I turned to him suddenly, my abrupt head-turn causing our noses to bump into each other.

“How is your wife?” I asked, still nose-to-nose with him. At first he had been too startled to move. Now, sobered by my question, he pulled back.

“She . . . weel, she isna pleased wi’ me, I’m afraid. She was . . . not too happy about my absence yesterday.”

I supposed that explained her absence now. I had wondered why Jamie came alone and had contemplated asking about his young girl for a while. At first I had decided it might be rude, but a glass later I decided that propriety be damned.

“You never told me you had a wife.”

His face was hard to read, but his silence told me all I needed to know. He didn’t have an explanation for why he’d omitted that piece of information when he told me of himself.

I couldn’t find it in myself to be angry with him any longer. I knew he hadn’t withheld the information in order to seduce me, or something along those lines. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have rejected my kiss. He still seemed the honourable man I’d first thought him to be. However, this knowledge didn’t quell my curiosity even a little.

I wondered suddenly if Jamie thought I was angry with him still, and felt guilty for causing him more pain than he deserved. His wife was upset with him—though she probably had good reason. His godfather was in an I-told-you-so mood, and I, a mere stranger, felt betrayed by him for no good reason at all.

I turned to Jamie once more, putting my hand on his arm in hopes of reassuring him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to be judgemental. It was none of my business whether you were married.” Though you could’ve told me when I tried to kiss you, I almost added, but didn’t. This was hardly the time.

“—But just as I was about to mount Donas, wee Hamish—that’s Colum’s lad—interrupted. He had concerns about marriage, ye ken.”

“What concerns could such a young boy possibly have?”

“Weel, he’d been told that ye must serve a lass like a stallion does a mare, and asked me was that true.”

I snorted into my goblet. “Wherever would he get such a notion?”

“I can assure ye, it’s no so unusual a misconception in these parts, Sassenach,” he said, and I thought he blushed.

“You set him straight, I hope.”

“As well as I could. I wouldna say I’m an expert on the matter.”

“No? You’re married, I should think you’re well versed in the subject.”

“I’ve a fair knowledge.” It was clear he didn’t wish to elaborate.

I wondered for the first time how his marriage to Laoghaire had come to be. He didn’t seem so head-over-heels in love with the girl, but perhaps that was because they’d been married for a long time and no longer acted like newlyweds. That didn’t match up with their ages, though. Jamie was likely in his early twenties—old enough to have been married a few years, but Laoghaire could be no more than seventeen.

Perhaps it was simply an unhappy marriage. I’d only met Laoghaire once, and hadn’t found her to be a particularly pleasant person—but then, what did I know? Maybe I’d just encountered her on the wrong day, in the wrong mood. She could be a lovely person for all I knew.

Jamie turned to me, and I forgot all about Laoghaire.

I couldn’t help but notice the beauty of his red hair in the romantic glow of candlelight that lit up the great hall, it lent his locks a fiery tone. I thought it made him look much like the great warrior I imagined him as.

Though perhaps it was his rescuing me that made me look upon him in such a way. That, or my healing him, seeing as it was not unheard of for a doctor to form a certain bond with a patient of theirs. Frank had told me that once when he suspected I was having an affair. Perhaps he hadn’t suspected as much as hoped, for had it been true it would have evaded him of guilt.

It was certainly possible that my romanticised attraction to the man next to me had little to do with dashing rescues and the bonds of healing, but rather the drink in my hand, for it wasn’t my first. I had to admit I had drunk far more than I should have.

“Mistress,” said Jamie, “should I see ye back to the Surgery? While we can still walk upright,” he added, before I could protest.

Perhaps that was best.

His hand was on my thigh, though I barely felt it; his touch was feather light. He was warm, not like the flames of his hair, nor the heat in his eyes, but a pleasant kind of warmth that protected from the cool, damp air of the Surgery where he touched my skin.

He inched the hand upwards, taking with him the hem of my shift, exposing more skin to the night air, and to him. He was less exposed to me, for I found my vision obscured by dark curls. Had I been able to feel my hands, I would have brushed my hair out of the way, but I had little sense of myself. I couldn’t feel my body but for where he touched me.

I tried calling out his name, urge him on, but I had no voice either. I had nothing but an aching need.

His touch, which had left me a moment before, returned, not warm this time but scorching. His hand continued its torturous teasing, moving upwards, but never seeming to reach its destination.

Still, I felt him. I felt his hand burning my thigh, and his hot breath brushing my ear as he breathed out, “Sorcha.” I wanted to ask what it meant, but was still unable to find my voice.

He was so close to touching me where I wanted him. So close it made my heart beat faster and my breath come quicker. So close I couldn’t feel anything but him, smell anything but him.

I couldn’t reach out for him, though I ached to touch him. My hands were limp, and my mind foggy.

I faded in and out of consciousness. I fought to stay under the surface, where the heat resided, but my mind kept pulling me up.

I made one last effort, compelled my hand to move, let it search in the dark for my companion, but found that he was air and his touch was a phantom one.

[vladtoly]

I will admit that i watched Thirteen Reasons Why to the end, but i will also admit it was a deeply -dangerously- flawed show. It romanticised suicide and was very triggering to multiple different groups. The show even- much like the book- made killing yourself seem like an option or form of revenge.

I told myself that since i read the book and was fine that i’d be fine with the show too; especially since in the book Hannah dies of an overdose, NOT slitting her wrists. I was okay through out the show, only being a bit upset by Sky’s scars, but not too badly since i had reminded myself it was just a show. But there are only so many times i can tell myself that.

Episode 13 did have a warning, but i ignored it seeing as it, and i quote, said ‘mention of self harm and suicide’. Seeing as thats what the show was about, i ignored it and continued. Once i got to the scene of Hannah’s death, i kept watching because though it was on Netflix, it was still a show and they still had to filter what they let out. And to repeat, the warning said self harm and suicide were only MENTIONED. I believed they would pan away when Hannah went to cut her wrists, but THEY. DID. NOT. They continued to keep the camera on Hannah as she killed herself GRAPHICLY. I have a long history of self harm and have only been clean for a year, i still think about it occasionally, more as an addictive thought than a way to cope with anything seeing as i am better handling my depression. Triggers are a very real thing and this scene triggered dark thoughts as well as my anxiety. When my anxiety is triggered, it can sometimes make my skin itch. During this scene and for HOURS after, my skin itched so badly that i had to put on long sleeves to provent myself from scratching.

This show forced a negative physical reaction from me. It did not properly warn people of the content that was in the episodes and Netflix was careless with releasing a show of such sensitive subject matter. I’m only a small minor example; I am well aware that there are people out there worse off than me and are still dealing with problems, in worse places in life than i am, and i fear this show could be a breaking point for some.

There are rumors that Netflix will make a second season and i couldn’t be more against it. They made the tapes which is good enough for anyone who wanted them, but even those were too much.

The show was not needed and they should’ve stopped at the book.