#tw:sexual abuse

[justsomeectoplasm]

This is the last post I will make before going on Hiatus and I feel I need to spread awareness to as much people as I can because this is the most disgusting, vile and downright pathetic behavior I have ever seen in my entire life and it needs to get more attention outside of the fandom because it's trying to be buried and forgotten.

tw: Grooming and manipulation.

Yandere dev groomed a minor.

For those who don't know who this fucking creep is (bless your soul btw), Yanderedev Aka Alex Mahan is a game developer and creator of Yandere simulator. You probably know him from "the chalice" meme that's spread around twitter and discord for sone time.

This developer was already a sketchy developer. He mistreated volunteers that helped him work on the game, acted unprofessionally towards a person with DID, having a pedophile moderate his discord and admitting his claim that "every character in Yandere simulator is 18" is bs, which if you know the sexual undertones of the game, is fucking disgusting. And finally he made suicide threats to another developer that was making a fangame that was basically doing everything he did better. (I got all of this info on the r/Osana subreddit. They have a megathread explaining this much better and the comments on said megathread gave us even more "arcs")

But the drama has since died down from what I was told and he was still being criticized but not getting as much attention as he did a few years back.

However

Back in July a youtube creator named AllyMcC was contacted by a minor named "Jane" who claimed to be groomed and sexually abused by Yanderedev/Alex Mahan on the internet. The minor provided some damming evidence that clearly showed inappropriate behavior from Alex. Much of these conversations were taking place on snapchat, with Alex demanding that the setting for messages to be deleted upon viewing be turned on. However, when Jane realized she was being groomed, she started recording the conversations they both had as well as voice calls. Of course, AllyMcC acted (albeit incredibly slowly. July?? And you published the video now?? Why....) and made a whole video detailing the allegations as well as providing the evidence. The video spread like wildfire.

However, Jane retracted her statement of Alex being a predator, claiming he is just "lonely". It is suspected that Jane was manipulated by Alex to retract her statement, as this is common behavior from grooming victims. As of now, Alex still has contact with Jane and AllyMcC states that she thinks that he is still manipulating Jane to retract more of her statement. However, more victims of Alex grooming has come forward and begged AllyMcC to keep the video up.

Alex has made a public statement in the form of a blogpost but tbh it doesn't clear anything up and it paints him as the victim in all of this. He deletes any comments on his blogpost that are negative and it's filled with a lot of victim blaming.

After Alex made that public statement, many VA's, volunteers and youtubers are jumping ship and basically disowning Alex and the project.

A few days ago, the video AllyMcC has made about the allegations was copyright striked and removed, under Jane's real name. It was later revealed that Jane herself did not file that strike, so it is suspected that Alex essentially doxxed the victim and filed a copyright strike on the video.

Luckily, the video is being mirrored and reuploaded everywhere on youtube, but it looks like Alex wants to bury the truth.

So why am I making this post? Well, There is now a petition to ban Yanderedev from patreon, essentially cutting off his only financial support for the project. We are so close to the goal but it's not enough. Please sign it and if you can please donate to the petition to help get this freak's patreon abolished and the game canceled.

https://www.change.org/p/ban-yandere-dev-from-patreon?source_location=topic_page

I also ask of you to not blame Jane for retracting her statement. Also the discord of Yandere simulator is full of Alex defenders and disgusting victim blamers, so don't try to stir up shit in that place. Let them leave of their own volition. Reblog this post with this link as much as you can.

[republicanidiots]

[fuzzyizmit]

YUNGBLUD - Hated (Official Music Video)

[dancemomsliveblogtrash]

TW: SEXUAL, VERBAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE

[moonxvxsun]

you were only seventeen

TW: implied sexual abuse, emeto

This is my first story and I'm introducing you to my very first OC's. I would absolutely die (in a good way) if you guys asked me questions about them and wanted to get to know them better.

But without further ado, I'd like to introduce you to my OC's.

Samara Ryder and her partner Cordelia Jones

Cordelia was sitting in her shared apartment with their girlfriend Samara, everything was dark, they had all of the lights off. The only thing that gave away that they were home, was that their car was in the driveway.

They were laying in bed, curled up into a ball bawling. Cordelia suffered from severe trauma in their life, but they always tried their best to hide all of their pain. They had been dating Samara for over a year and has only shown weakness around her once. Not that it was a weakness, but Delia thought that it was.

"Delia, are you home?" They heard the door open and Samara making their way through their house up to the second floor where their shared bedroom was.

No, no... Samara can't be back yet...no Dalia thought to herself as they heard Samara come up the stairs. "No! GET OFF ME! I don't care. NO!" Dalia yelled to no one and started fighting the air as if someone was trying to climb on top of her.

"Cordelia!" Samara burst into the room to see their partner fighting off what appeared to be an invisible person. "Delia, it's me...It's Mara...I'm here... you're okay..." Samara said softly reaching for Cordelia. "Delia, what happened?" Samara sat on the bed and helped Cordelia into their comfortable position. She placed Cordelia in between her legs and had them face her and she just rubbed their back and tried to help them calm down enough to speak. "Dalia, please talk to me,"

Cordelia was in a full panic, but hearing Samara's voice they were able to calm down a little but they were still having a full panic attack.

"Dalia, name five things you can see."

"Y-you...t-t-the clock..."

"Come on Dalia, you can do this," Samara spoke with sincerity and confidence and Cordelia took a deep, shaky breath. "Three more things you can see,"

"W-Window, y-your te-teddy...p-pillow..."

"You're doing so great my love, name four things you can touch."

"Y-you...blanket, p-pillow, t-te-teddy..."

"Lovely, three things you can hear."

Samara took Cordelia through the entire process until they were breathing more normally.

"I-I don't feel good..." Delia mumbled softly and as if to prove the point Delia's stomach let out a low grumble. This often happened when Delia had such a severe panic attack.

"It's okay love, just feel my warmth and touch, okay?" Samara was so gentle with Cordelia, they were so lucky. However, as they started to relax in their girlfriend's touch, their stomach lurched and their stomach contents spilled all down Samara's back.

"N-Not done..." Delia cried, their breathing becoming more irregular as the panic of what just happened began to set in.

"It's okay my love, just get it all up, okay?" Samara just continued to rub their back while they coughed up the rest of their stomach contents.

Delia let out a few more coughs and started dry heaving, mostly from just panicking now that their stomach was empty. "Dalia, let's go rinse your mouth out in the bathroom and clean up, and then we can get you all settled on the couch, and then we can talk about your feelings, okay?"

Delia nodded and let out a nauseous burp and a moan followed. "You're okay love, let's just go to the bathroom, okay?" Samara stood up and pulled off their shirt and held their arms out to support Delia.

Once they made their way to the bathroom Delia washed out their mouth and cleaned up while Samara went back to the bedroom to clean up the mess. They quickly put everything into the wash and went back to the bathroom and it was perfect timing. "Let's get you all settled on the couch,"

Once they were settled together under the blankets, Samara was cuddling Delia and rubbing her stomach waiting for Delia to tell them what they were feeling.

"It was him again, I thought I saw him at the store..."

"My love, you know he's gone. He's gone." Samara cooed as they held onto Delia tightly. "Shhh, don't cry, they're gone and you're safe. Just stay with me right now."

[kythwena]

it wasn't with your mouth, was it? The Magicians | S02E07: Plan B (2017)

[republicanidiots]

Fixed Them.

“GOP challenger to Cheney says he impregnated raped 14-year-old when he was 18.” -- Washington Post, 5/21/21

“Cheney Primary challenger impregnated raped 14-year-old when he was 18.” -- The Hill, 5/21/2021

“Cheney Primary challenger says he impregnated raped 14-year-old when he was 18.” -- NBC Newa, 5/21/2021

“Anthony Bouchard says he impregnated raped 14-year-old when he was 18.” -- New York Times, 5/21/21

“Wyoming lawmaker reveals he impregnated raped 14-year-old at 18.” -- ABC News, 5/21/21

“GOP House candidate mpregnated raped 14-year-old when he was 18.” -- Huffington Post, 5/21/21

[skiesofthesketchy]

Hey lovlies! Serious/triggering topic coming up...

Thank you for all the support on Stood Up! It’s so crazy to see that other people actually like my stories lol

I have gotten a handful of messages saying that people find comfort in this fic, mostly because similar things have happened to them. Stood Up talks about attempted r*pe, sexual/physical violence, and trauma. I just want to say I feel for you guys, and I’m glad I could bring some sort of comfort to you.

Bottom line is: this shit is serious, and seriously fucked up. I’m so sorry to those of you who have gone through such terrible experiences. You did not deserve that, and my heart breaks for you.

I have been in a few situations where I was taken advantage of. That’s how the idea of Stood Up came to fruition. I struggled for a long time, dealing with the fact that something horrible happened to me. I remember when I had finally gathered the courage to tell my friends, and I guess I thought they would comfort me, but they didn’t. “It’s not a big deal” and “stuff like that happens to every girl” were the words of comfort I got. It fucked me up.

It fucked me up even more because they were right, so many girls go through similar fucked up experiences. It’s not okay. None of it is. And to be told to grin and bare it is part of the problem. 

Okay this is getting long, but I just wanted to say I feel for you. If you ever need somebody to talk to, I’m here. Talking about these things can be so hard, especially if you don’t feel supported, if you feel alone.

You are not alone. I love you. Everything will be okay. 

[smol-nemesis]

You know what I want to see in black cat and Spiderman's relationship? Them bonding over being sexually abused in the past.

[hugoscenteno]

SKAM FRANCE Episode4 Clip5 Translation

Wednesday - 2:27 - Forumedic

TW: sexual abuse

(Tiff listens to a radio show/podcast)

Host: thanks a lot Doctor, for having accepted the invitation. I was, I must admit it, very touched by all the testimonies from these women who speak about this famous pregnancy denial. But I can’t help but wonder why it happened to them.

Doctor: to answer this question, I have to go a few years back. 30 years ago, specialists kept pregnancy denial to women with psychiatric disorders. To put it simply, they thought they were crazy. Today, we know it can happen to anyone.

Host: how do you explain it? Why this denial?

Doctor: there are many different reasons. Althought it is often linked to trauma. I have a patient, for example,  who lost two closed ones during her first pregnancy. Unconscouly, she must have been scared that it would happen again. Sometimes you have to go a few generations back. It can be a stillborn whose story has never come to light.

Host: when you talk about trauma, can it be linked to childhood?

Doctor: of course, I had a few patients who were sexually abused during childhood, some of them didn’t remember it.

[nekojitachan]

Oh, that post about Jean! MY HEART! G-d, the things Riko probably promised to Jean that Riko-HIMSELF-would do to his baby sister if Jean didn’t obey. Bc I know Sakavic said Canonly, Riko wouldn’t “engage in anything homosexual himself”, but Jean’s sibling is a girl. I feel like Jean would remind himself to stay alive in the Nest for his sibling’s sake

Warning - probably dark stuff here.

Yes, I feel like a lot of things with Jean is him sacrificing himself because of his sister - it’s not said much about his parents, but I think at least there’s neglect going there (which makes it so easy for them to give him up) and my head canon is that he’s close to his sister (that he looked after her because his parents were off gambling or doing whatever they did, and maybe at some point realize that Jean would be collateral for them).

To sum it up, Jean and his sister had a very strong bond. Jean definitely looked after his sister. Riko would realize this and use it against him. It’s up to you to decide how Riko threatened Jean with his sister, but at the very least, I can see him saying that if Jean didn’t ‘behave’, his sister would be in the Nest (would be subjected to the same abuse he dealt with), be it the other Ravens or him. Which is why I never blamed Jean for what he did/how he behaved.

[snarkythewoecrow]

And it all came tumbling down

by: Snarkymuch

Rated: T

Warnings: vaguely referenced/implied past sexual abuse, referenced self-harm

Summary: Skip is released on parole, and that breaks something in Peter. He begins to shut down again. Tony is there for him when he needs it.

READ ON AO3

May wasn’t home when the call came, and Peter had answered the phone. There was no hesitation or prickling of his senses, nothing to signal how the one call would shatter his fragile world.

The voice on the other side of the phone had been cautious and polite, in a way that put him on edge. The woman asked for May but settled for Peter. He didn’t listen as she introduced and explained her position with the district attorney. The only part he heard was her saying, “Steven Wescott was paroled this morning.”

The words had stopped making sense after that. The edges of his vision darkened, and he swayed where he stood. He lowered the phone, sliding his finger over the button and hanging up. He didn’t need to hear more. Everything he’d tried to hide behind easy smiles and laughter bubbled up, threatening to consume him. Or maybe it already had, and there was nothing left. He felt hollow and dead, like something left to wither and dry out until all the life was gone.

He’d kept Skip tucked away in a box in his mind, one that he carefully avoided. He made sure to give anything that could jostle those memories a wide berth. May was good about it. She didn’t push. Once, she'd had Peter in therapy, and he did well. He smiled when he was supposed to and played games with his therapist. After a year, he didn’t need to go anymore. The therapist signed off on him. Little did they know, Peter was just good at acting. He didn’t want to be in therapy, not really. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened. He wanted to bury it, burn it, lock it up and never speak of it again, so yeah, he did what he needed to do.

Over the years, the nightmares grew less, and Peter could function more. Spider-Man was a good distraction, and Tony kept him busy. Little by little, he found a new normal and the little boy with the dark secrets, well, he got pushed aside, hidden in the recesses of his mind. Peter didn’t need him anymore. He could be strong, could take care of himself. He didn’t need to be reminded of his weakest points.

He just wanted to forget the boy who let Skip touch him. If he pushed it away, if he made himself forget, it would be like it never happened.

But it was all crashing apart now. The phone call tore open old wounds, raw and exposed nerves drowning him in pain that he wished to forget.

Skip was out of jail.

It wasn’t until his knees began to protest that he realized he’d somehow ended up on the floor in the kitchen. Nothing made sense around him. His lungs moved, but it didn’t feel like he was breathing. He felt small and alone, and like the little boy that he never wanted to be again.

His cellphone rang in his pocket, and he struggled to connect the dots, to move his hands and bring it to his face. He did, though, slowly, but he did.

It was May, and Peter wondered if she’d heard. It made sense that they’d call her too, especially after he’d hung up. He couldn’t talk right now, though, he didn’t have the words, but he knew if he didn’t answer, she’d just call again, maybe even come home, and she couldn’t do that. She needed her job.

With a shaky hand, he answered the call, lifting it to his ear.

“Peter,” May breathed, “Thank God. Ms. Foster said that she told you, but you hung up. I’ve been so worried. Peter, tell me you’re okay? Or tell me you’re not, and I’ll come home right now, job be damned.”

A tear slipped down his cheek as he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh, kiddo, nothing about this is fine.”

“Yeah, I know, but can we—can we pretend it is, though? Just—can we pretend it’s all okay for now?”

May sighed. “Maybe I should come home.”

“I don’t want you to lose your job. I’ll be okay. I just need—I need to think or something, get a grip on things.”

“I don’t like leaving you alone at a time like this. It’s not a big deal. I can cut out of work.”

His legs were going numb from being on the floor. “I’ll be okay. If it gets bad, I’ll call you.”

She was quiet for a moment but then agreed. “Call me later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll send you a text before bed.”

“Okay, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He disconnected the call and stuffed the phone back in the pocket of his hoodie. Pushing himself onto numb legs, he wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and went to put on the suit. Spider-Man was the furthest away he could get from the scared little boy inside him. Putting on the mask, that let him be something, that deep down, he knew he wasn’t—brave.  

xXx

Days passed, and nothing changed. Peter existed in a numb void, avoiding those around him. He didn’t answer Tony’s calls or reply to Happy’s texts. Whenever he caught May looking at him, there was sorrow in her eyes. Peter hated it. He hated that he had put it there. And it was him. Why couldn’t he just be better already? Why did he have to be so broken?

The little boy inside felt alone, and Peter turned his back.

xXx

Two weeks of emptiness and Peter felt no better. Skip was still out there. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel, but he guessed it didn’t matter because he felt nothing. Sometimes he’d snap the rubber band on his wrist, just to feel something, even if for only a second. He worried about what might happen when the numbness lifted, and he felt again. He worried he would drown.

At one point, he put on his mask and asked Karen to search for Skip. She found him in minutes, living in an apartment not far enough away, but then again, he could be on the moon and still be too close. It didn’t really matter. At least Peter knew, though, and that settled something in him.

It was fine that he asked Karen to find him every day after that. It was reasonable to want to be sure. At least that’s what he told himself.

xXx

May all but pushed him out the door to Happy’s car. It was vacation week, and May had arranged with Tony that Peter would spend some time away from the city, like being upstate would somehow make the demons go away. The compound, the apartment, it didn’t make a difference where Peter was. He still felt dead, and the little boy haunting him still felt alone, waiting for someone to listen.

Peter pushed it all aside and went upstate. He could fake a smile and pretend. He’d done it as a child, and really, after a while, he started believing his own lies. Maybe faking it wasn’t so bad. Did it matter that a piece of him was still hurting, still waiting to be heard?

Peter sat at his workstation in the lab, snapping the rubber band on his wrist, the light sting reminding him he was alive, and that Skip was still out there. The little boy inside him curled into a ball, hiding his face. Peter shut the door on that room in his mind. Part of him knew he shouldn’t hide, that he should let that little boy have a voice, but he couldn’t do it. He needed to forget, maybe just as much as he needed to remember.

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

Blinking, rubbed where the band had been snapping and looked at Tony. “I guess I didn’t hear you?”

“You say that like it’s a question, but I’m pretty sure you’ve been zoned out and ignoring me for the last ten minutes.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Tony tossed the piece of reactor back on the workbench, sticking his hands in his pockets and appraising Peter. His eyes seemed to settle on Peter’s hands, where he was fingering the rubber band.

“What’s with that?” Tony asked, nodding toward Peter’s hands. “Your wrist is red, kid. Don’t think I didn’t notice you snapping it.”

Peter moved his hands, balling his fists. He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s nothing, just a thing.”

“A thing?”

Peter looked away, grabbing a pen and twirling it between his fingers. “Yeah, a thing. It’s just an old habit, I guess.”

Really the rubber band was something that had come from therapy. It was a coping technique, something to do rather than hurting himself. Self-harm was something he’d dabbled in after Skip when everything was raw and numb at the same time. On days he couldn’t feel, it let him feel something, and on the days that he felt too much, like was spinning out of control, it grounded him. It was one of the few things therapy had helped with, one of the few things he hadn’t lied about, maybe because, at the time, he didn’t care enough to pretend differently. Either way, the rubber band was introduced, becoming an outlet when all else failed, and lately, he’d needed it.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Peter said, eyes on the pen as it danced between his fingers. He could feel Tony’s gaze on him, boring a hole right through him and into his soul, or whatever was left of it. He felt naked and exposed, like Tony could see it all if he wanted, and Peter wondered how true that was. What did he know? How much had he put together? Peter had never given him any clues, but Skip and what he’d done were in some file somewhere, just waiting to be seen. All Tony would have to do was look.

The little boy inside of Peter wished someone would, if only so he could be seen. The piece of him had been shunned so long, alone and abandoned, whenever he reached for it, all he felt was loneliness and hurt. Even in therapy, he had never put it to words. Only for the police had he said what had happened, and only then in the barest of terms. The piece of him needed to be listened to, needed to be allowed to cry, but that just wasn’t something Peter could do. He was too afraid because once he opened those gates, he might get washed away.

Tony grabbed a stool and dragged it to the middle of the room, just barely perching on it, so he was mostly just leaning. His hands were clasped in front of him, and his head was hung. There was something pained about his features, a sadness in the line of his mouth. Dread began to bubble up inside him. He didn’t know how or who told, but Peter would bet anything that Tony knew.

He snapped the band on his wrist.

Tony looked up, eyes full of sorrow. “I think maybe it’s time you did, though.”

“What are you talking about?” Peter tried to deflect, to get the ball back in his court.

“When May called to arrange this, she—” He shook his head, looking at the floor before flicking his gaze back at Peter. “She gave me a name.”

Gravity shifted, and Peter’s stomach dropped. He shook his head, fisting his hands. “She had no right.”

“Don’t be angry, Peter. She was worried.”

“What—do you know it all? Did you look it up? Of course, you did.” Peter threw the pen at the window and threaded his fingers in his hair. “I didn’t want you to know. No one should have to—” He made a pained noise, pulling at his hair.

He heard Tony get up and cross the room. Peter could smell his cologne and hear his heart beating too fast. Tears began to seep from his eyes, despite how tightly he had squeezed them shut.

“I didn’t look, Peter. I found the files, but I stopped. I just know—all I know is he hurt you. Please, believe me. I didn’t look.”

Peter dropped his hands and opened his eyes. His nose itched, and his cheeks were already damp with tears. “You didn’t—you didn’t read them?”

Tony shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I think—I think I know a little, though.”

“How?”

“He’s a registered sex offender.”

Peter bit his lip, nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“You know I’m here for you if you need anything. I promise you, nothing, nothing you could say would change how I think of you.”

Peter sniffled. “It happened a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less important. I’ll still listen, kiddo.”

Peter shook his head. “Maybe some time. I just can't right now.”

“Fair enough, just know I'm in your corner, kid. Day or night, you can come to me.”

xXx

Peter couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in the bed, but couldn’t settle down. The compound wasn’t home. No matter how nice it was, it wasn’t the same as his own bed, not that he’d be sleeping much better there, but at least he could escape out his window at home and go to the roof. He couldn’t see the stars from his apartment, but it didn’t keep him from looking up at the hazy sky.

He checked the time. It was after three, and he hadn’t slept yet. Sighing, he threw back his blankets and climbed from the bed, quietly padding out his room and into the hall. The lights were dimmed, only little nightlights illuminating the way. He didn’t know where he was going, but he just couldn’t stand being in his room any longer. He headed toward the living room, stopping when he got close. He could hear a heartbeat and the rustling of someone nearby.

The light was on in the room, low it was dimmed. Peter’s eye fell on the figure standing by the windows, silhouetted by the moonlight. From the line of the shoulders and messy hair, Peter knew it was Tony. He didn’t know if he was ready to face him again. After their talk in the lab, things had fallen into an awkward silence. Neither of them spoke, maybe because there just weren’t words. Peter had been thankful, though, that Tony hadn’t pushed because he wasn’t sure how he would have responded.

Peter took a few more steps into the room, keeping his gaze on Tony. The man dropped his head, and his shoulders fell, then he turned to Peter, shadows under his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying to smile but couldn’t.

Peter swallowed, flexing his hands at his sides. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Tony considered him for a moment before nodding. “That’s going around. You up for some company, or do you want me to leave?”

Peter blinked. “No, no, you can stay. I just couldn’t stay in my room anymore. The walls—they were closing in.”

Tony gestured to the couch, taking a seat himself. Peter hesitated for a moment but crossed the room and sat beside him, not close enough to be touching, but near enough that Peter could smell his cologne. It made his nose itch.

Peter kept his hands folded in his lap, his eyes averted. Silence settled around him, but it felt weighted and suffocating, filled with everything that he didn’t want to say, or maybe he did. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

“He was my babysitter,” Peter found himself saying, and quickly looked at Tony and then away again. “I thought he was my friend.”

Tony didn’t move, and Peter waited for him to say something, anything, or maybe nothing at all. He didn’t know which would be better.

“You didn’t know, Pete. You were just a kid, and even if you weren’t, it still wouldn’t have been your fault. That’s on him and only him.”

Peter looked at him, biting his lip. He nodded, glancing back down at his hands. “Yeah, I know. I know it wasn’t my fault. I mean, it’s never the kid’s fault, but—but I was scared, you know? That’s what I remember—being scared.”

Tony sighed, and Peter saw his hand curl into a fist and then spread back out. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I think I would have been scared, too.”

“I doubted myself after—I still do. I mean, I thought he was nice. I trusted him. I should have known.”

“You couldn’t know, Pete.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Peter picked at his nails, digging at a hangnail until it started to bleed.

Tony gently took his hand and pulled it away. “Use the band, but don’t make yourself bleed—not for him.”

His throat began to feel tight, and he struggled to swallow; tears began to prick at his eyes. He sniffled, wiping the heel of his hand over his eyes.

“I’m tired, Mr. Stark—I’m so tired. I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” he confessed, that little piece of him, the little boy, finally getting a chance to speak.

“Can I hug you?” Tony asked, and Peter nodded, leaning into his side as Tony wrapped an arm around him. Peter melted into him. Tony was grounding. Tony was safe. Peter knew that he would never hurt him.  

He hiccoughed a sob, his tears soaking the fabric of Tony’s shirt. He rested there against him, shoulders shaking every so often from a sob he couldn’t hold back. When the tears finally slowed, he spoke against Tony’s chest, so low he doubted the man could hear him. “Can this be the part where things start getting better?”

Tony held him a little tighter, pressing his cheek against the top of Peter’s head. “Yeah, I think it can be.”

[lewdladylily]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart Characters: Aerith Gainsborough, Tifa Lockhart Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sexual Abuse, evil!Aerith, Non-Consensual Groping Summary:

Tifa wakes up in the dark, tied to a bed.

This fic will be continued using prompts from the whumptober2020 list, not necessarily in order or every day. Feel free to make requests based on those prompts, but not promises.

Please do not read if any of the things here might be upsetting to you, this is going to include some pretty rough content.

[sentrymemes]

✤ Kanna

✤ - a memory of love

It was during a rough time.

    Her brother’s family- The only family that seemed to understand her. They no longer were with them. Yasuhiro was missing...declared dead. And she had thrown herself into some terrible habits. She was out partying whenever she could get a chance. A bit of makeup and a change of clothes and no one was the wiser. Inoue would accompany her so it didn’t seem too bad.

Then she met this guy.

    “Hey there cutie”

He showered her with compliments and light touches. It seems like a haze though through her drunken memory. What she recalled though was being cornered outside by the guy while outside smoking. And his advances.

But seconds after his lips crashed against hers forcefully they were just as quickly thrown off and she was pulled against a familiar chest.    “Try that crap again and I’ll do much worse than knock your teeth out.”

Looking up she saw her friend growl as he brandished a knife as the fucker he just laid out. The poor sap looked pissed and terrified of this high schooler that had just sucker punched him. Running away. 

   He will be back though. Probably just off to find his back up.

“Kanna, are you okay?”

In that moment, maybe it was just the city lights glaring in the distance. But he seemed to glow and while she always acknowleged he was handsome, it was like she was seeing him again for the first time. And she couldn’t help the tears that started to roll down her cheeks as she buried herself against his chest.

“Daichi I was so scared. How did you know?”

          “Heh, isn’t that why you bring me along?” he says patting her back

In that moment she realized, she hadn’t lost all of the people that loved her and understood her. Someone had been right by her side for quite a while now...and he may not love her romantically.           But in that moment she knew she was in love with Daichi Inoue.......

[starker-asks]

Hey 🥺 we all cope differently, okay? Some people wanna murder their abusers in disturbing and gorey ways. Some people like me wanna get fucked by them over and over until I forget they ever hurt me. No need to be ashamed

We all need to go back to therapy when this social distancing thing is over.