#tw!! verbal abuse

[spiralstereo]

ー Fake it til you make it

⚠️ tw!! verbal abuse, gaslighting, guilt tripping, cursing, sensitive topics, etc.

What they had wasn't real, Ghostwalker knew that. He almost felt selfish for wanting more.

None of his siblings particularly liked him, or enjoyed his company or any of his ramblings. He was annoying, a nuisance. & the only chance he had to have an actual bond with one of his siblings, was ruined by tragedy.

What he had with Icedagger was never happening again. He accepted it.

Darkheart was... interesting. They were friendly to him in the past, but never particularly close or talkative. He wasn't either. But they were... very different now.

He understood the way they were, he understood why they were the way they were & he understood they were in pain- but it didn't necessarily... justify their actions. He wanted a genuine relationship with them, he truly did, but he felt like they never really cared.

He felt like they were only ever talking to him because they had both been hurt by the same person, & now they just had to work together.

Co-workers.

Thats what she always called him.

The two were discussing something in the reading nook in Ghostwalker's temple. Darkheart had just gotten back from- somewhere. They never told him where exactly (they never told him anything), but presumably somewhere wet. Because they were soaking wet.

"Apparently that Overseer guy is fucking alive too, we thought we killed them- but nope! They're trying to stir up other shit now... not sure what.." The serpent deity was fidgeting with something in their messy, fluffy & wet hair, not even paying the slightest of attention to the other deity.

Ghostwalker was... skeptical. Darkheart was usually right, yes, but sometimes they weren't. Not to mention some of their sources where they were getting information were...questionable.

"Are you sure..? Who told you they were still alive? I know you know alot of people but not everyone you know is exactly.. trustworthy."

They scoffed at him, giving him a look.

"Well we trusted you, right..? You weren't exactly fucking trustworthy but we listened to you anyways- & look...! Shit works out, you're being fucking paranoid again.."

He raised a brow, before furrowing his brows. They were in a mood, a feisty & argumentative one. Not this again...

"You don't have to try & guilt trip me when I ask you a question- I'm reasonably skeptical. Last time you just gave me information like this it turned out to be something that homeless druggie thought he saw. You don't have to get so defensive over a simple question."

"It's because you don't fucking trust us...! You don't trust anyone..!! You always do this shit & you make us look like a bad person- why can't you just shut the fuck up & listen to us for once..!?"

"Because everytime I listen to you we almost get killed. Everytime I listen to you, you almost get killed! You're reckless & you don't think ahead most of the time- I'm not trying to make you feel bad or say you're a bad person I just want you to recognize what you're saying & what you do!"

They didn't like that at all. They didn't like being called out, especially since they were in a bad mood.

"You're just trying to make us do things your way- the way she fucking-"

He cut them off before they could even dare to finish that sentence. They growled at him, glaring daggers at his form.

"Darkheart, listen to me."

He paused for a moment.

"You're going to die doing this. You're going to die trying to blaze your way through everything & ignoring everything else. If I can't convince you that looking & planning ahead can prevent a whole lot of suffering- I don't know what fucking will. You are hurting yourself & you are hurting me & you don't even recognize that you're doing it- it's not healthy & it's not good. If you genuinely want to feel better & fucking feel yourself again- you need to just listen to me. Or else you're just going to get worse."

The deity of darkness, who had been glaring at him in silence the whole time doesn't utter a word. Infact, they slowly shift themselves, before standing up, looming over him.

"Don't act like you fucking care. You never did, & you never will."

They leave without another word.

[cubbihue]

Uhm is Chimmy Changa doing well? Its seems he has started to divert from what changelings are supposed to do and act like is the static not staticing correctly is he become aware that something is wrong?

Diverting? Well we can’t have that!!!!

Don’t worry. I’ve increased the noise since our last interference. If it happens again, we will issue a good reset!! Thank you for your report.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[infiniteglitterfall]

A Chabad synagogue in Pomona, New York, burned to the ground on April 17th, along with its three Torah scrolls.

Torah scrolls are hand-written, hand-made, and kept in elaborately decorated cases or wrappings.

Many of them have long histories; my synagogue has two, I think, that were smuggled out of villages being destroyed in pogroms or in Nazi attacks. One of them is the only remaining piece of that village on earth.

Sometimes, the Torah scroll doesn't even belong to the synagogue, but is on loan from a place like the Memorial Scrolls Trust:

There's an entire Jewish holiday just for taking them out and dancing with them: Simchat Torah, "The Joy of Torah."

In fact, that was the holiday on which Hamas's invasion took place.

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So it's a particular tragedy when a Torah is destroyed.

Chabad itself has a page about what goes into making just one Torah scroll:

"An authentic Torah scroll is a mind-boggling masterpiece of labor and skill. Comprising between 62 and 84 sheets of parchment -- cured, tanned, scraped and prepared according to exacting Torah law specifications -- and containing exactly 304,805 letters, the resulting handwritten scroll takes many months to complete.

"An expert pious scribe carefully inks each letter with a feather quill, under the intricate calligraphic guidelines of Ktav Ashurit (Ashurite Script). The sheets of parchment are then sewn together with sinews to form one long scroll. While most Torah scrolls stand around two feet in height and weigh 20-25 pounds, some are huge and quite heavy, while others are doll-sized and lightweight."

I learned all of this on Tumblr.

Once upon time, in people's "punch Nazis" days, I would've been able to find some mention on Tumblr of this synagogue burning.

There is none, so I'm posting about it.

And I'm going to quote Daniel Weiner, Rabbi of Temple de Hirsch Sinai in Bellevue, Washington, when his own synagogue was vandalized last November:

"It’s horrific and heartbreaking.... [Taking out your feelings about] what's going on in the Middle East by defacing a sacred space of a synagogue -- that’s the very definition of antisemitism."

I'm also posting about the Kehillat Shaarei Torah Synagogue in Toronto, whose windows were broken on Friday, April 19th, by someone who also tried to break the front door down.

And the April 15 graffiti outside a Bangor, Maine synagogue that said, "Nazi Israel 30K murdered," next to a crossed-out Star of David. The same synagogue faced pro-Hamas flyers plastered around it in November.

I was going to include all the synagogues vandalized over the past six months. But there are way too many. Several every week. Lots are swastikas.

I'll go back to just doing attacks on and near synagogues.

Someone has to talk about the 1-year-old who was stabbed outside Temple Beth Zion-Beth Israel (BZBI) synagogue, in Philadelphia, on April 13th.

The foiled terrorist attack on a Moscow synagogue on April 11th.

The man who, on April 9th, screamed at the rabbi at Moldova's Great Synagogue, "What are you doing here? How come no one has finished you off for everything you are doing to the Palestinians?" Just one week after people had vandalized a Holocaust memorial in nearby Soroka, and sprayed "Free Palestine" on it.

The Oldenburg, Germany synagogue that was firebombed on April 5th.

The Florida Las Olas Chabad Jewish Center, which on March 16 burned, but not to the ground. The Torah scrolls were safe, and no one was hurt, but the back of the building was severely damaged.

The planned-but-thwarted-on-March-7th ISIS massacre in a Moscow synagogue.

The stabbing of an Orthodox Jew in Switzerland on March 5th. (He was badly injured, but expected to survive.)

A man leaving a synagogue in Paris was beaten on March 3rd.

People set the courtyard of a synagogue in Sfax, Tunisia on fire on February 27th. Firefighters managed to put the fire out before it consumed the inside of the building.

The synagogue is no longer used; there are no Jews left in its area, and fewer than 1,000 Jews left in Tunisia overall.

(Thousands of Tunisian Jews were sent to work camps during the Holocaust. Antisemitism across the Middle East continued to increase rapidly for decades. By the 1970s, 90% of Tunisian Jews had fled to France or Israel.)

On February 18, an Orthodox Jew leaving Synagogue of Inverrary-Chabad in Lauderhill, Florida, was beaten by an attacker yelling racial slurs.

Someone deliberately chose International Holocaust Remembrance Day, January 27, to smash all the windows in the front of Sgoolai Israel Synagogue in downtown Fredericton, New Brunswick.

On December 29, Turkey arrested 32 people linked to ISIS who were planning attacks on synagogues and churches.

On December 17, a man drove a U-Haul truck up onto the sidewalk between a barrier and the front door of the Kesher Israel Congregation in Washington D.C., got out, and started yelling "Gas the Jews." He also sprayed a foul-smelling substance on two people leaving the synagogue.

December 17 also saw 400 synagogues across the United States receive bomb threats.

On December 11, a man attacked an elderly couple on their way into a synagogue in Los Angeles, screaming, "Give me your earrings, Jew!!" and beating one of them bloody with a belt. (Happily, he chased the guy down the street, and caught him when his pants fell down.)

On December 10, a 16-year-old was arrested in Vienna for planning an attack on a synagogue.

On December 8, on the first night of Hanukkah, 15 synagogues in New York State received bomb threats. And someone screamed, "Free Palestine," and fired shots outside of Temple Israel in Albany, NY. Which has a preschool that was in session.

Meanwhile, the five Jews left in Egypt were canceling public Hanukkah candle-lighting at their synagogue out of fear of reprisals. Particularly after two Israelis in Alexandria had been gunned down by terrorists on October 8. (While Israel was still fighting Hamas in Israel.)

On November 15, a terrorist group set the only synagogue in Armenia on fire.

Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) has a history of working with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).

(PFLP is part of Hamas's network of groups. Samidoun is their nonprofit arm - which is why Germany banned Samidoun last year, although it's still active in many other countries.

PFLP is also actively supported by the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), a diaspora nonprofit group, and Within Our Lifetime (WOL), an SJP spinoff in NYC.)

On November 11, halfway through Shabbat services, police asked Central Shul in Melbourne, Australia to evacuate "as a precaution" due to a "pro-Palestinian" protest that had chosen the neighboring park as its gathering place. Australia has seen some very outspoken antisemitism at protests, including the march shortly after October 7 that chanted "Gas the Jews."

Also on November 11, protesters targeted a synagogue along a march route. They sat in their cars, spraying green smoke and shouting at people leaving the synagogue. The march itself featured a record number of horrifying signs and chants.

On November 7th, Congregation Beth Tikvah in Montreal was firebombed, and the back door of the Jewish organization across the street (Federation CJA) was set on fire.

On November 4, protesters chanted "Bomb Israel," and burned an Israeli flag outside the only synagogue in Malmo, Sweden.

During October, there were 501 antisemitic acts under investigation in France in just three weeks, including groups gathering in front of synagogues shouting threats, and graffiti such as the words “killing Jews is a duty” sprayed outside a stadium.

On October 18, people firebombed a synagogue in Berlin after homes all over the neighborhood were graffitied with stars of David.

And also on October 18, hundreds of "pro-Palestine" rioters attacked the Or Zaruah Synagogue, in the Spanish enclave of Melilla in North Africa, while worshippers were inside.

Based on the video, they seem to have blocked the synagogue entrance completely, while screaming "Murderous Israel" and waving Palestinian flags. (Melilla is an autonomous zone belonging to Spain. It borders Morocco.)

On October 17, during pro-Palestinian protests, hundreds of rioters set fire to Al Hammah synagogue, an abandoned house of prayer in central Tunisia. They hammered down the building’s walls and raised a Palestinian flag on the building. Police did not intervene.

The Facebook page "Tunigate", which has around 88 thousand followers, published a video of the assault. So did "Radio Bousalem”, with 83 thousand users. The vast majority of comments on these videos welcome these acts. The building was severely damaged and almost completely razed to the ground.

On October 15, bomb threats were sent to many East Coast synagogues. Attleboro synagogue Congregation Agudas-Achim received one of the emails, which read, "The bombs will blow up in a few hours. A lot of people will die. You all deserve to die."

On October 8 -- again, while Hamas was still in Israel -- Madrid’s main synagogue was defaced with graffiti that read “Free Palestine” next to a crossed-out Star of David.

And on October 7, an assailant in Rockland, NY fired a BB gun at two women entering a synagogue. Later in the month, a banner at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue in the area was vandalized with the words, “Fuckin kikes."

[drmichealmorbius]

Hi y'all! I am a queer 2nd-year college student doing a project on improving trans rights. Part of this is collecting data from real trans/GNC people about their lived experiences. If you are a trans person, please complete this survey, and reblog or spread it around to other trans peers, I would really appreciate it!!!

Even if you aren't trans/gnc please please please reblog for a bigger sample size!!!!!!!!

TW: mentions of verbal/physical abuse

[liminish]

[spoonie-on-wheels86]

[dearramiel]

billy desperately trying to babytrap his girl after she tries to break up w him🤭

This is so good.

✧ - baby trapping, subconscious manipulation, verbal abuse, violent!billy, billy is overprotective, obsessive, and possessive, implied stalker! billy, mentions of billy beating up jason tommy h & some other guy, controlling behavior, toxic relationship, gaslighting, guiltriping, unprotected sex( piv), breeding, cockwarming, mentions of tampering with birth control but it doesn't actually happen, hint of fluff at the end,

Billy's infatuation with you starts the very first day he looks at you, a beautiful, shy, charismatic girl who he could bend at will. He knew he would have you, it wasn't even a matter of how but when.

He was good at orchestrating everything, from the very first time you talk, the heated kisses, and first time hooking up. Billy wasn't your first, but you sure as hell felt like a virgin the first time you took him. He made you feel good, loved, he was sweet, caring, and charming. Just two months in, everything had changed. From the very beginning he knew you were different than other girls he had been with, he never had a girlfriend, and it hit him like a shock. He started acknowledging how much depth his love went, at first it was just him messing around with another girl, but he had gone way off track.

It was hard not to, you had been the only girl to care for him, rather than his dick. You were different. You treated him different than any other person.

It wasn't all on him anyway, you weren't stupid, you knew what Billy's intentions were from the beginning, he'd never once talked to you, but it began to get hard to let go when he kept you around, not shoving you through his window after hooking up, not pretending like you didn't exist when he walked by you at school, offering rides after he proposed in exchange for him to be lenient on Max being late, or even how he had stopped going after other girls.

Everything was so sweet, until he let the intrusive thoughts in.

He started asking who the people you talked to were, walking you to classes you didn't have together during passing period, insisted on driving you to work after school, picking you up and dropping you off home.

Eventually his obsession turned violent, going after Jason Carver after finding you two together during a pep rally, a big misunderstanding that could have been avoided had he just asked what you were bringing to him.

Billy had become somewhat self aware of what he was doing, quickly becoming insecure, and hateful. But he couldn't help it, because he genuinely loved and cared for you, he wanted you all to himself, this sweet girl who let him in. He was good at guilt guiltriping you with that, telling you how much he loved you.

It made you feel restless, having to make sure you weren't talking to specific people he didn't like, making sure not to stare too long at some other guy, spending all your free time with him, letting him know that there was a test you had to make up before going to work. You felt like your life was being controlled, and inviting him over while no one was home was your biggest mistake.

Spring break had just started, it was a Saturday evening when Billy had received the call. Of course he'd pull up to his girlfriends house in under 10 minutes, especially when she gave the "It's important and serious.".

Billy was rapidly knocking on the door, yelling your name, and when you open to let him in, he can tell that something really is wrong.

You're spouting nonsense to him, being so annoying, talking about how he doesn't love you, and that he's obsessed with you. Part of which was really wrong, because Billy did love you. He just had this horrible way of showing it.

It doesn't take long for you to get him angry, he begins yelling back. Saying that Carver, Tommy H, and Smith deserved getting their asses flipped. To which you yell that he shouldn't go about fixing things with violence.

"I just can't do this."

And he snaps, eyes blurring, warm droplets falling to his neck, when he blinks he realizes that he's crying. And it has you shocked.

"What?" His voice is small and broken, it almost has you wanting to take back what you've said. But it's hard to do so, because he's scared you already.

"No, please no." He cries as he reached out to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body, another act that shocks you, he's never been one to initiate affection. He's almost cradling you, "Can't lose you, please don't."

You're not sure if it's an act, one to lure you in, but you take the bait anyway. Because while the ideas of what he's capable of to the extent of his love terrify you, you also remember that you do love him too. That he's never once laid a hand, or ever been physically abusive to you.

"I'm sorry Billy, I didn't mean it. It's just, you scare me sometimes!"

Anguish breaks into his body, when the realizations kick in. It's a thought that's etched into his mind, the fact that you've thought about leaving him. The fact that you even said it.

"I'm sorry baby, let me make it up to you please.. I promise I'll take care of you." His tone sends shivers down your spine, it's the one he always uses, it messes with you subconsciously and you never picked up on it.

You nod your head rapidly, breathing in deeply when Billy's teeth gently sink into the flesh on the side of your neck. Your panting reels him in further, letting him take full control of your body.

You don't even know how you ended up on your back, in your room, and on your bed, both you and Billy fully nude. Both your bodies decorated with bites and love marks. You're crying into the air as Billy's cock is shoved into your aching tight hole. You can feel every inch of him, to the point where you swear you feel his tip hit up snuggly against your cervix, and Billy swears he feels it too, because he begins a brutal pace. Mouth stealing a heated kiss from you. Between the messy kiss, your stuttering moan fills his ears.

"Fuuuuckkk, Billyyy! M'gonna cum!" You whimper, arms and legs wrapping around his body, pulling him to you, almost inviting him further inside you. He's reaching the deepest he can, he's never been or even felt so feral during sex. Both his hands were clenching harshly onto the pillow your head was rested on, he's using it as stability to continue thrusting so hard and fast, he feels like he's also about to cum.

"Yeah? Then cum, need to feel you all over me." The thought alone is enough to send you spiraling, a gush of liquid seeps out, drenching and covering his abdomen and cock in your cum. A long moan rips through you, your walls clamp so tightly around Billy that it only takes a couple more thrusts before his cock plunges into the deepest part of you.

"Fuuck! Babe'm gonna cum, cunt is all mine, gonna breed you so they know you're mine. You want that, don't you?" He groans into your ear, burying his face into your neck, your response is nonverbal, it's just you frantically nodding your head up and down before you decide to speak up.

"Yes! Please, Billy, want you to make me yours!" You babble, then it happens cum begins filling up your insides until you feel full. Billy's weight drops on you then, cum still spurting a few more times before he is absolutely spent.

You can feel him soften inside you, little bits of cum threatening to spill out. The feeling has you whimpering, it's then that Billy remembers he's still inside you. When he goes to lift himself up, a whine is heard from you.

"Billy.. no, don't go.. please. Wanna stay with you like this." You beg, your tired eyes droopy, your arms still holding him tightly.

"Not going anywhere baby. Love you so much." He slurs, high of sex, leaving kisses all over your face.

"I love you too, Billy.. so much.."

He had you right where he wanted you.

Those condoms he planned to poke holes into weren't really necessary after all.

[orphancoded]

[riality-check]

TW: past verbal and emotional abuse

The Harrington house is a game of perfection.

Steve has known this fact for as long as he can remember. There is a right way, a narrow way, a rigid way, of doing things. Numbers dictate all: rebounds, points, and assists for basketball, new PRs in freestyle and backstroke for swim. The numbers themselves do not matter; all that does is that they grow and shrink appropriately.

Infinite growth is not sustainable; not for Steve's stats, not for Richard's stocks. Both of them strive for it anyway.

The house must be clean. The parties can't be busted. The people of Hawkins will only say good things about the Harrington family. Gloria strives for these things, day in and day out.

The Harrington house is also a game of Perfection.

Steve hated that game growing up. The one with the little yellow pieces and the blue board. He was never able to get all the pieces in the right spot before the board spit them all back out.

It made a ticking noise, like a time bomb. Steve doesn't know when he started associating that sound with his parents.

It fits. It fits almost too well. They're fine, at least for a little while. The ticking starts quiet, then grows louder and louder until everything blows up.

The thing is, in Perfection, that the board blows up even if you put all the pieces in the right spots in time. The thing is, in the Harrington house, that everything blows up even if Steve does everything right.

The ticking lasts for days sometimes, weeks others. It's impossible, random, and impossibly random.

The only consistent thing is the board blowing up. And when that happens, so does the shouting.

The Party thinks that Tommy and Carol taught Steve to be cruel. That they're the ones who taught him how to bare his fangs and spit venom. That once he left them, the rage left him.

He's okay with letting them think that. It's easier than explaining that Richard and Gloria are the ones who taught him how to snap and shout, how to tear holes in other people with a few well-spoken barbs.

When Steve thinks of his parents, he thinks of fighting. He thinks of his father calling him useless and his mother calling him an idiot. He thinks of his mother calling his father dirt and his father calling his mother a bitch.

There are never any apologies. "I'm sorry" is never said in the Harrington house, even when the board gets reset.

They say "I got you pizza for dinner." "I saw this at the store and thought of you." "Do you want to come with me to get gas?"

And with that, the ticking starts up again.

Horrible things are said when the board blows up. Steve says horrible things when the board blows up. He's called his father an asshole and his mother self-absorbed and apologized without any apology at all.

He cleaned the pool instead.

Steve doesn't want to the board to blow up in the middle of the Munson trailer. It's why he's keeping his mouth shut while Eddie yells at him.

"What the hell, Stevie?" Eddie shouts, arms flying. "I told you that you can’t do that!"

“You told me you don’t want me to,” Steve says, staying calm and measured.

Calm and measured. Not blowing up. Steve isn’t going to snap or shout or bitch. He isn’t.

“Fucking semantics!”

“They were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” Eddie roars. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me!”

It’s true. Wayne calls Eddie “Teflon,” says that nothing sticks to him, least of all anyone’s opinion. Steve knows that Eddie doesn’t care about what most people in Hawkins think about him.

But he cares very much about what the people who care about him think.

Steve can say a whole lot of things right now. He’s angry, physically biting his tongue to ground himself. He can say a whole lot of things to cut Eddie to the bone, to end the argument and then some.

But he won’t.

Love is knowing how to hurt someone and choosing not to. It’s using a knife to split an apple to share instead of to cut skin to ribbons.

Steve can’t trust himself not to slash Eddie open. He says awful things when everything goes to hell like this, snaps back hard when snapped at first, operates purely on instinct.

He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I care that you could have gotten hurt when you swung at those assholes,” Eddie continues. “I care that I wasn’t there with you when you defended yourself. I care that you won’t let me take a look at your hands and make sure they’re alright.”

Steve squeezes the knuckles of this right hand in his left. It stings, but he’s fine. Nothing broken. He knows from experience

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” Eddie barks.

Steve lets go of his hands, lets them hang loosely at his sides.

“So, what the hell, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still loud, still snappish.

A variety of terrible answers surges to the front of Steve’s mind. Eddie’s biggest insecurities, the things he’s only told Steve when he thought he was asleep. Ways to wipe the anger off his face and replace it with stuff easier to manage: shock, hurt, sadness. Things he would say if he didn’t particularly like Eddie, if he were still in high school, if he were still in his parents’ house.

Steve doesn’t say anything. He keeps the knife in its drawer. He closes his eyes tight and breathes in once, then again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer.

Steve opens his eyes to find him a step closer, hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

Oh.

Well.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s said it before. Of course he has. He knows the words, knows that he needed to say them to Dustin and Robin and Max, and he has. He’s stepped too far with jokes and forgot about some things and missed some things they’ve said.

But he’s never yelled at them. They’ve never yelled at him.

This is not how this is supposed to go. Eddie isn’t supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to clean Steve up or make him dinner or invite him along to go grocery shopping.

And Steve was supposed to snap back.

“It’s okay,” he says because that’s what he’s supposed to say, yeah?

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen.”

Eddie stares at him, big doe eyes shining, like he has five heads. It makes Steve want to put his bloody hands behind his back, make him shrink.

He swears he can hear ticking, but the board just reset. Didn’t it?

“What?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I got scared, but that doesn’t mean I get to yell at you. That’s not okay.”

What does Eddie get to do, if not yell?

I deserve it, Steve thinks, but he’s smart enough to know that saying that out loud will just lead to another fight.

There’s been barely any time to put the pieces back.

Steve doesn’t get it. But, he figures he’s always been a little slow on the uptake, so he can watch. Observe. Figure it out later on his own. He’s pretty good at that.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he holds his hands out for Eddie to take.

He’s dragged along to the sink, where Eddie rinses the cuts out with cool water before bandaging them up with the remnants of a box of Band-Aids from the bathroom. When they’re dry and finished, he presses a kiss to each knuckle, feather light.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at Steve very seriously.

“Me, too,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

It feels good to say. It feels good to mean.

Standing there in the kitchen of a trailer in Forest Hills, looking at the mismatched furniture and half-full ashtrays of the living room, holding hands with his boyfriend formerly accused of murder and apologizing for the first time and meaning it, Steve feels like he can finally breathe.

The ticking has finally stopped, and silence sounds so sweet.

[islandofthedollz]

Jimmy with a lobotomized woman agh

❤︎perfection ❤︎

⁠❥TW manipulation, forced surgery, verbal abuse, toxic Jimmy, implied physical abuse

⁠❥I love toxic insecure Jimmy with his lil lobotomized wife no thought just sit there and be pretty. I’m trying to feed yall as much content as I can before the new year!! ILY so much for the request!! :3

Jimmy sat on the couch, watching as his wife, busied herself in the kitchen. She was a beautiful woman, but despite her physical attractiveness, Jimmy had begun to feel frustrated with her. She was always questioning him, always trying to form her own opinions and make her own decisions.

At first, Jimmy had found this trait endearing. He had thought it was cute, the way she would try to assert her independence and think for herself. But as time went on, he began to realize that it was actually quite annoying. He was the one who was supposed to be in charge, after all. He was the one who was supposed to make the decisions.

And then, to make matters worse, you had started talking about getting a job. You had said that you wanted to help out more, to contribute to the household income and make you’re lives easier. But Jimmy didn't want you to work. He wanted you to stay at home, to take care of the house and cook his meals. He wanted you to be dependent on him, to need him.

But every time he tried to explain this to you, you would argue with him. You would say that you wanted to be independent, that you wanted to have your own money and make your own decisions. And Jimmy would get angry. He would yell at you, tell you that you were being stupid and selfish.

It was exhausting, dealing with you like this. Jimmy felt like he was constantly having to battle with you, to fight for control. And he was tired of it. He wanted a wife who would obey him, who would do what he said without question.

As he sat on the couch, watching you as you worked in the kitchen anger boiling inside him thenJimmy had an idea. He had heard of a surgery, a procedure that could help to calm a person down, to make them more docile and obedient. It was called a lobotomy, and Jimmy had always been fascinated by the idea of it.

He got up from the couch and walked over to you. "Hey," he said, putting his arm around you. "I've been thinking. I want us to take a trip, just the two of us. We can go to the city, visit some doctors and see what they have to say."

You looked up at him, a questioning expression on her face. "What's going on?" You asked.

Jimmy smiled, trying to reassure you. "I just want to make sure you're happy, that's all," he said. "I want to make sure we're doing everything we can to make our marriage work."

You nodded, seeming to accept this explanation. And Jimmy felt a surge of excitement. He knew that this was the perfect opportunity to get you the surgery.

The trip to the city was a long one, but Jimmy didn't mind. He was excited, eager to get you to the doctor and start the process of changing you. As they drove, he talked to you, telling you all about the surgery and how it would help you.

But you were skeptical. “I don’t want to have the surgery, you said”. You were happy just the way you are. And Jimmy got angry, yelling at you and telling you that you are being stupid.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Jimmy was relieved. He was eager to get the surgery over with, to make you into the perfect wife. The doctor was a kind, gentle man, with a soothing voice and a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry," he said, as he led you into the operating room. "This will all be over soon. And when it is, you'll be happy, I promise."

Jimmy watched as they wheeled you away, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation. He knew that this was the start of a new chapter in your marriage.

As he waited for the surgery to be over, Jimmy couldn't help but think about how much he was going to enjoy their new life together. He was going to having a wife who was obedient and docile, a wife who would do whatever he said without question.

And when you finally emerged from the operating room, Jimmy was overjoyed. You were different, he could see that right away. Your eyes seemed duller, your expression more vacant. And when you spoke, your voice was softer, more subdued and slurred.

“Hello, Jimmy," you said, smiling up at him. "I'm happy to see you."

Jimmy's heart swelled with love and affection. This was the wife he had always wanted, the wife he had always dreamed of. He took your hand, leading you out of the hospital and back to the car.

As he drove home, Jimmy couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. He knew that their new life together was going to be perfect, that you were going to be the perfect wife. And when they finally arrived home, Jimmy was eager to start their new life together.

He led you into the house, showing you around and introducing the new you to his friends. And as you settled into your new routine, Jimmy couldn't help but feel grateful for the surgery. It had changed you , had made you perfect.

You were obedient and docile, doing whatever Jimmy said without question. You were happy to stay at home, to take care of the house and cook his meals. He didn’t have to slap you anymore when you got out of line or yell at you when you wanted a job.

Jimmy loved his new life with you . He loved the way you would smile at him, the way you would laugh at his jokes. And he loved the way you would obey him, doing whatever he said without question.

As the days turned into weeks, Jimmy found himself feeling happier and happier. He had the perfect wife, a wife who would do whatever he said. And he had the perfect life, a life in which he was in control.

"I'm so happy," Jimmy said, as he put his arm around you pulling you closer to him. "I'm so happy to have you as my wife."

You smiled up at him, your eyes dull and vacant. "I'm happy too, Jimmy," you said. "I love you."

Jimmy's heart swelled with love and affection. This was the life he had always wanted, the life he had always dreamed of. And he knew that he would never let it go, that he would never let you go.

As you sat on the couch together, watching TV and enjoying each other's company, Jimmy couldn't help but feel grateful. He had the perfect wife, a wife who would do whatever he said. And he had the perfect life, a life in which he was in control.

[spiralstereo]

ー Looking in the mirror, this isn't who I want to be.

⚠️ tw!! gender dysphoria, self harm, blood, intrusive thoughts, cursing, verbal abuse, etc.

He She had been thinking about things for awhile.

How he she viewed himself herself, how others must perceive him her, how he she wanted to be perceived. The perfect image, if you will.

He She was uncertain.

He She was standing in the mirror, viewing himself. Scanning himself herself up & down. Just as he she always looked. Long, neat & slightly wavy hair swept to one side & let down. A white long sleeved & collared dress shirt with a little neat black bow tied in the front of his her shirt collar, a long black a-line skirt with some tall black socks with some perfectly matching dress shoes with cute little buckles.

His Her horns were neat, well taken care of. A golden, glowing halo sat between them, hovering above them. His Her wings were preened, folded behind his her back & well kept aswell. A pair of rounded, golden glasses sat on his her face, highlighting his her golden eyes.

He She was a well put together & pretty little thing, fair & tall, with anything a deity could want. Wings, a respectable status & title, & a gear that could kill. Yet, he she looked at himself herself & could only feel...

Sorrow.

He She didn't like how he she looked, at all. Infact, he she despised it.

He She brought a clawed hand up to his her face, tearing into the flesh. Disgusting, scarlet blood leaked out. Not golden, luscious & of power- but scarlet. As if the deity of death were a mere mortal.

He She dug in more, his her flesh ripping apart like butter, & his her claws were spreading it apart. He She wanted to reshape his her face into something better, something he she could be happy with, something-

Something that made him her look like the man he she really was.

She He paused. No... wait.

Had suddenly everything she he had felt before become invalid? She He or was he always this way, & she he didn't know it? Another fear, what would her his siblings think?

"You're a girl, Ghostwalker, & you always will be. Stop tryna say you're different!"

"Are you seriously going to betray me, just like that? What about girls sticking together? I was fine with Illumina transitioning, but you? I'm disappointed."

She He was terrified. They wouldn't accept her him. They would hate her him- they would throw him away & make someone take her his place, because she he wasn't good enough.

She He caught another glimpse of herself himself in the mirror. How disgustingly feminine she he looked.

Her His hair, her his clothes, her his-

Her His hair.

She He tugged & pulled, yanking on her his hair. Yanking on the hair that took her him years, maybe even over a decade to grow out. She He hated it. She He hated it so much.

There was a pair of scissors on a desk beside the mirror. Her His eyes trailed over, locking onto them.

She He scrambled, her his clawed hands desperately grabbing them, bringing them to her his long, white locks &-

Cutting it all off.

It didn't look the greatest, but it looked alot better then before. Well, to him atleast.

He was shaking, staring at himself in the mirror. At his shortened hair, at his torn up & cut up skirt. He... was definitely going to need to start wearing something else.

Maybe he'd find himself in the process too. Who knows what he would discover, he'd shunned himself & been up in the air for eons... he was excited to learn, excited to figure things out!

But not right now. He wasn't ready to come out of come out of his room yet.

[certifiedsexed]

I'm really sorry if this is off topic, you post a lot about trans stuff and I don't know where else to ask for advice. Ignore this ask if it doesn't fit the blog and have a nice day.

Has anyone here dealt with partners who have switched views from radfem to TERF? For context, I'm a pre-everything trans male and I don't pass at all. I've been dating my girlfriend for a few years now, she's always been supportive, until this year.

Two years ago she adopted radfem views and this summer she began to deadname and misgender me for the first time and hasn't stopped after polite corrections. She keeps saying I'm just confused and other things, you know what I'm talking about if you've ever interacted with a TERF. It happens every day now.

Is this normal and just a bit rude, or something serious? It's exhausting and I don't feel safe with her anymore, but everyone says I'm just overreacting and I don't know how to handle it carefully, since I don't really have any support now.

Is it really selfish to want to be at least called by another (gender neutral in my country) name if you look like a girl?

No apologies needed! I'm happy to help and I appreciate you trusting me to answer. <3

I need you to genuinely listen to me for a second, Anon. I do not say this lightly. The behavior you're experiencing with your girlfriend is abusive. It's not "just a bit rude", it's not safe and its not appropriate.

Everyone who is telling you that you're overreacting are frankly not trustworthy either if they're telling you that your girlfriend refusing to use your name, misgendering you and trying casual attempts at what sounds a lot like conversion therapy bullshit is not an immediate "get away from that person now".

It makes sense you feel unsafe. She's being consistently abusive towards you and you have no support behind you, that's awful. Whether you "look like" a girl or not, you're not a girl and you've said so.

It is not selfish to ask people to respect your gender and pronouns.

I'm not sure how to handle this carefully either, if i'm honest, because I don't know your situation and I don't know what you have access to.

But my primary advice is to find a way out of this relationship and away from your girlfriend, since it sounds like she is the biggest issue here. I'd frankly also advise finding more spaces with openly trans people, even if that's just online, so that you can find more people like you, in situations like you.

I think it'd really help, especially since people in your life don't sound very supportive. I also think looking up information specifically on trans people, dealing with transphobic abuse would be helpful. This is an article, for example, that might be helpful for you to read.

I don't know how helpful this all is but I'm so sorry you're dealing with all that, Anon. I've dealt with [and still deal with] some of what you're talking about and I know that's such a burden. Sending love. ❤

Let me know if you have any other questions. If anyone else has suggestions, feel free to add on. <3

[cubbihue]

Chimmy! Mr Turner, sir, your tie is loose. It’s always a bit loose. Hm. Not very professional…

Haha, oh Timmy! Always so sloppy!!! It’s a good thing his parents are there to help shape him up again! What a shame that he’s moving away from them. Who’ll keep Timmy Turner in line now??

Ah, well. I'm sure someone else will fill in that role. We can't let our changeling go about without supervision after all!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hii could I request Belial reacting to MC who definitely likes him, but has verbal abuse related trauma and is put off by Jiyu's yelling? Thank you <3

Belial w/ Mc who has trauma from verbal abuse

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi, just popping in to say to anyone who has this trauma, that I feel you. I'm dealing with this stuff too and if anyone wants to talk, I'm here for them anytime ♥ (Anyone really, actually... trauma or not - I'm here if you need someone♥)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first time you talked to Belial, he already immediatelly noticed the slight jolt and stiffness of your body after Jiyu unleashed himself like usual

So he'll try and tell him to cool it a bit around you, but when did Jiyu ever listen to him in that? He just wants to express himself!

But then on one day when you're not doing well, Jiyu does his usual thing and you just break down

Belial immediatelly moves to comfort you at least physically, while avoiding speaking so the red lump doesn't open its mouth again

Maybe he'll even take him off his horn and leave him behind just to make sure

And while still in your emotional state you can't help but reveal some nuggets of your past experiences

Which makes Jiyu completely freeze in place

Now he actually feels bad and wants to make up for what he's said

Will also try to make his way over to you to apologise over and over

From that point on he doesn't insult you and if he's insulting someone else while you're around, he says it instead of screaming

Also if either one of them notices you having a hard time bc of some other screaming devil *cough*Satan and Amy*cough*, they'll offer to get you out of there and comfort you too

[oozebrain]

Art x gender neutral Reader. Art and reader are both ND.

Chapter summary: A new neighbor moves into the house beside you. Being the only other kid in the neighborhood, you’re excited to meet him and hopefully make your first friend.

Warnings include: implied child abuse, verbal abuse, abusive parent (mother), angst, ableism (including r slur), swearing. Minors dni.

Laughter in the Dark

Chapter 1

The sound of a moving truck woke you up. You grumble sleepily and pull your covers over your head. It’s so piercing and loud in the quiet. You look to your alarm clock and it reads six thirty in the morning. It’s the weekend and you were looking forward to sleeping in, but with the incessant beeping it was impossible. Once the beeping subsided, you thought there would be peace, but loud banging and thudding followed after.

Annoyed, you toss your blanket off and go to the window to see what has so rudely woken you up. In the yard you see a tall woman and a smaller figure next to her. He seems restless, looking around this way and that as he soaks up his new surroundings. He looks to be about your age and excitement blossomed in your chest. 

In a hurry you put on your clothes and comb your fingers through your hair. As you enter the living room you see your mother. She is also getting ready, her own curiosity piqued. You were both nosy, there was nothing that could be done about it.

“Are we going to see the new neighbors?” You ask, pulling on your jacket. 

“That goddamn truck woke me up. I’m going over there to ask them who the hell moves in at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.”

You hoped she wouldn’t. You desperately want to make a good impression. You want a friend, an acquaintance, anything. Anyone. You try to placate her, “Maybe we can all be friends and have cookouts and stuff.”

She ignores you, muttering to herself as she puts on her own jacket and grabs her purse and keys. You silently follow her out the door, the bracing breeze of the fall morning tearing through your neck. You pull your jacket closer, the thin material doing little to actually block out the cold. You’ve gotten used to it over the years but the breezes always managed to rip you up.

The neighbors are less than a few feet away and the pair turn to acknowledge you as you walk up. The boy turns away and retreats by the garage, away from the group that’s been created. Naturally, you separate as well and migrate over to the teenager.

He is gangly and taller than you are. In the cold morning he is bundled up with a jacket and hat with ear flaps. You could barely see his face from the scarf wrapped around it, which he pulled up over his nose when you walked up. Despite being bundled up, he was still huddled up into himself and withdrew from you when you approached by taking a step back. He eyed you warily so you stopped short, offering a friendly wave.

He doesn’t speak but continues to stare at you with apprehension. He looks down at the ground and awkwardly kicks a pebble out of the way. It scoots over to you and you gently kick it back. He pauses and stands rigid for a moment before looking back to you. He says nothing but kicks the pebble back, this time with more enthusiasm and you reciprocate.

The boy doesn’t seem interested in conversation so you don’t force the subject and continue to play in a silence. You notice he keeps looking back to his mother, and you notice this because you are doing the same. Every now and again you check over your shoulder to see if she is watching you, but she is still talking to the boy’s mother.

You look back to him and offer him a smile. You can’t see his mouth but you see his eyes crinkle slightly in the smile hidden beneath. It seemed like he was shy, just as you were. You idly sway, hands behind your back and fingers fidgeting as you coax yourself through this encounter with a new person. 

It’s difficult to meet new people. You’ve lived here your whole life but can’t name a single person. There were no other kids in the neighborhood, so seeing him step out of the car gave you hope that things could change. You tried not to appear over eager but you truly were hopeful you would be able to make a friend.

“Arthur, who’s this?” Comes a voice to your left. You both turn your heads in unison to look at his mother. He doesn’t answer or move, he merely stares with wide eyes, hands in his pockets and huddled into himself. His smile is gone. Again, you notice his behavior because you do the same, your own gaze wide with apprehension now that attention has been drawn to you. 

She closes the distance and smiles down at you, “Sorry dear. He doesn’t mean to be so rude, he’s just retarded.”

You grimace some at this statement. She takes your scowl of disdain as confusion and continues to rub salt in the wound, “Retarded means he’s slow. He can’t talk. I think he can, but someone just doesn’t want to because they like making things hard for mommy, don’t they?”

She punctuated her overly sweet sounding condescension by pursing her lips and looking down at him over her glasses. He averts his gaze and stares at you instead. He is silently saying something to you with his eyes. It speaks loudly to you, it screams, it roars. He hates her. After a moment he looks away to stare off into the distance while she stands over him in her own silence.

“Well I think we’d better be going. It was great meeting you both.” Your own mother cuts in, sensing the awkward tension. You wanted to leave the situation, but didn’t particularly want to leave him. Arthur glanced back at you before dropping his gaze again. He turned and left without a word, footsteps plodding heavy on the concrete steps up to the porch. The metal screen door closes behind him with an angry slam.

Arthur’s mother sighs, throwing her hands up in the air and looking to your mother apologetically, “Kids. You give them everything and they still want more.”

Your own mother says nothing, but a look crosses her face having her own words repeated to her from a stranger. She makes a noncommittal noise and motions for you to come with her. You give a half-hearted wave goodbye and begin your walk home, just a short distance across the yard. 

As you turn to wave you can see Arthur staring at you from the living room window. His scarf is off to reveal a healing lip and your stomach tightens. You really don’t want to leave him here, but if you don’t comply that would be you next. But still, you have to do something, anything.

“Can me and Arthur play later, mom?” You put her on the spot. All the pressure was off you and now rested on her shoulders. She said nothing for a moment, flicking her eyes between you and Arthur’s mother before nodding.

“As long as it’s okay with his mom it’s alright with me.” She agrees and the two of you look to her. She folds her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she thought. You didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she was visibly thinking long and hard about something, and you didn’t like it.

After a time she relented, “They have to stay in the front yard. I don’t want Arthur wandering around until we know our neighbors better.”

Your mother seems a little peeved at that statement, taking it as a personal offense, but doesn’t address it. Instead she chuckles awkwardly and motions again for you to follow, which you do. The two of you make it to the house and once you are inside the truth comes out.

“I do not want you hanging out with that kid.” She turns to you, “He’s fucking weird, what if he hurts you?”

You didn’t say anything. He didn’t come off as threatening, in fact he was the one who had initially withdrawn when you approached. Arthur didn’t seem like a mean or bad kid, he looked... scared, stressed, absent. He looked the same way you did after a long night of berating, or the look of dread when you heard ‘just wait until we get home’.

“I do not want you hanging out with him. I’m going down there later to tell her you have a stomachache.”

You look at her with a pleading, but angry, expression. Your ears burn and you clench your teeth. You are twelve years old but she manages you like a toddler, “I don’t have any friends, why can’t I play with him?”

“Because he’s a freak. You have no idea what his mom told me, he’s a fucking nutcase.” She sighs, “Kids like him are why they should bring back asylums. You’re not going, that’s final. I am not sending you out with him.”

“It’s just in the yard!”

“You’re NOT going!”

“You never let me do anything!” You scream at her, fists balled and ready to fight back. You were more worked up than you should be, and part of it was your worry for Arthur. You needed a friend, and he needed a friend too. In your short time meeting him, you could tell he understood you, and you understood him. There was an unspoken solidarity. He knew, and you knew. You just wanted a friend, what the hell was wrong with everyone?

“I’m doing what’s best for you, I’m looking out for you. You should be more thankful that I actually give a shit about you and don’t let you run around with fucking psychopaths who hack up animals!” She screams back, taking an intimidating step toward you. 

You aren’t having this, not today. You scoff at her and trudge to your room. The door slams behind you, an echo from just moments before. You lock the door behind you and flop onto your bed, tightly hugging the pillow beside you. The door wasn’t allowed to be locked but you didn’t care right now, that was a problem for later you. You didn’t want to even hear her breathe right now.

Frustrated tears come and you bury your face in the pillow. You were so angry and crestfallen. She always did this, she always agreed to plans in the moment then changed them as soon as you were behind closed doors. Any attempts to make friends had been foiled, and now that it had been so long without a friend you deeply struggled to make connections.

But you felt a connection with Arthur. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to talk to him, to give him someone to confide in, and you wanted someone to confide in as well. After a small cry you sit up on your bed, still hugging your pillow in your lap. From the corner of your eye you can see a small flash of light blinking over and over.

You get up to walk to the window and shield your eyes at the flashlight. Across the way is Arthur framed by the window pane. His bedroom seems to be across from yours. He turns off the flashlight and offers you a small, shy wave which you reciprocate. He flashes the light at you again. You hold up your finger to tell him to wait a moment and retrieve your own and flicker it at him.

And then you see it, a smile. It’s small and stiff, but it’s there. The two of you sit there at the window in the dim morning light, sending nonsensical Morse code that only the two of you can understand. Fate held you both in its hands as it linked the two of you together through these small flashes of light. You were exhilarated, and judging by the growing smile on his face, so was he. 

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

glimmadora vs catradora: making mistakes and taking responsibility

when glimmer hurt adora, adora was allowed to stay mad at glimmer. she was allowed to prioritize her own feelings and not worry about trying to stay on glimmer's good side.

and when glimmer hurt adora, glimmer took the initiative to try and apologize to adora multiple times. she immediately recognized her mistake and felt terribly guilty for what she said. and while she did initially get annoyed after adora ignored her attempts at apology, she still made sure to properly apologize afterwards.

when catra hurts adora, adora is always the one who has to seek out catra and apologize to her or try to console her. adora was never the one at fault in these scenarios, yet she always had to be the bigger person and disregard her own feelings in favor of catra's.

and when catra hurts adora, catra never acknowledges her mistake. she never even looks guilty, let alone try to apologize to adora or make amends. she goes off to sulk because she knows that adora would eventually give in and apologize for something that isn't her fault.

and then the one time catra does make the initiative to seek out adora after a fight, this is what she says:

keep in mind, this was after catra abandoned adora. but sure, glimmadora is toxic.