#was it really abuse?

[princessofghosts-posts]

The judo-flip scene

Most of the fandom I'm in are about anime: Sailor Moon,One Piece,Toilet Bound Hanako-kun,Inazuma Eleven,Oshi no Ko,and many more. Those are just the most active ones I'm in other than Percy Jackson,of course.

When it came to anime there are a lot of clichés or exaggerations that are the norm. Japanase humour is quite different after all,and that's fine. But it's probably something that don't make me take in consideration the gravity of some actions.

The Judo-flip scene,when Annabeth finally saw Percy after months at the start of MoA,it has always been funny for me. I never thought too much of it since I'm surrounded by media that has people hitting each other as jokes,when the situation become drammatic,or when someone did something stupid. (I.E.: Nami often hit some of her crew members on their head when they are being idiots; in the 90s anime adaptation Usagi and Rei often hit each other when they were arguing; etc...).

So for me it wasn't a big deal.

But I saw a lot of negatives takes on it: how Annabeth didn't had to do that since they were on a diplomatic mission and were already in a thin position,and this only complicated things; how she didn't know his Achille's curse got removed so,by pressing his back on the ground where she knew his spot was,she could have killed him; how it was straight up abusive and Percy didn't deserved that when he spent the last book fighting with an high level of stress and sense of loss,and didn't expected that so he was defenseless; etc...

And I don't know if the people are exaggerating it way more than it should be,or it's my japanese media consumption that made me numb to the seriousness of it. Was it really that serious? Can we actually categories this as physical abuse?

Annabeth did something risky by putting K.O the new praetor of New Rome. They already weren't fond of greeks,and now this greek demigod,daughter of Athena,attacked their paetor on first sight. That's not a good presentation to give to the future allies that already weren't warm to you. I can understand that point.

But it is really that bad?

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

How Bill was defeated and captured by Ford in my Gf AU! He basically just tricked Bill into accepting a deal that trapped him within Ford's mind and under his control :]

He may have gotten a little out of hand though....

>:)

Next post :]

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[reasonsforhope]

"Colombia’s congress has voted to change a law that allowed minors to get married with parental consent.

The proposal would make the minimum age for marriage 18, and seeks to protect the rights and development opportunities for minors. It still must be signed into law by President Gustavo Petro.

Currently, the country’s civil code allows person as young as 14 years old to get married with parental consent.

The initial proposal to reform the law – presented in 2023 – used the slogan “they’re girls, not wives” and aimed to prevent young girls from being forced to marry, to be subject to different forms of violence and to miss out on education and development opportunities.

“Minors are not sexual objects, they’re girls,” congresswoman Clara López Obregón said in a statement after the proposal was greenlit.

Child marriage remains a widespread practice worldwide and affects around 12 million girls per year, according to the UN’s agency for children, UNICEF.

But there’s been a global drop in child marriages over the past few years, according to the agency’s statistics. “Ten years ago, one in four young women aged 20 to 24 was married as a child. Today that number has fallen to one in five,” UNICEF said.

In Latin America, poverty is the main factor leading to minors getting married, according to UNICEF."

[nenoname]

With Stan constantly wanting Dipper to not take his shit and him relating to the Duchess, it really feels like Stan is projecting his wish of wanting to stand up against his own dad....

And while Stan always internalised the things Filbrick said to him, the fact that Stan decided to get that "daddy issues" book shows he's definitely aware he has major issues™️ so maybe one day he'll make progress...

(+ bonus Stan relating too much to Dipper and being painfully aware that he's putting them in danger...)

(Filbrick's impact on Stan post, Soos the Sonployee post)

[nightmaretour]

Okay now I've gotten myself angry again. Every time a medical professional is abusive/neglectful the overwhelming response is "Their job is so stressful and underpaid! They deal with so many rude and abusive patients, of course they're like that!!"

You know who else has stressful, underpaid jobs and deal with rude and abusive customers a lot? Retail workers. But if a retail worker started assaulting all of their customers you'd hear all about it, wouldn't you? The consequences would be enormous, and there would be an overwhelmingly negative response, even if it was exclusive to rude customers.

Now imagine this was the norm, and it was socially acceptable, encouraged even, in retail jobs to abuse and assault your customers whenever you feel like it, for any perceived sleight, just because they need to buy groceries and you have to serve them. It would be all over the news, it would be an international scandal with arrests all over the place, there would be exposés of the secret culture of abuse and assault in retail workplaces on every channel and news source with interviews with the victims. Everyone would know about it and everyone would care, because of course that's fucked up.

So why is it different when your victims are sick and rely on you to survive?

[pricetagged]

butcher paper

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

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

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[andy-lup]

Crab off! --gives your Loop a mouth-- because in this family not eating Bonnie's food is a crime.

So, remember this comic I did the other day? At first it was just gonna be a random Odile looping au comic, but then I said "what if the family DOES interact with Loop in the fic I'm writing?" And this happened.

A little explanation (cause I don't know when will I finish this fic so I may as well tell the story in comics or something):

We apply the 'teams' here (beauty alliance and opposite sides of the age spectrum alliance). That means (since act 4) Mirabelle knows Isabeau is looping, Isabeau knows Mirabelle is looping; Odile knows Bonnie is looping and Bonnie knows Odile is looping; but no one knows EVERYONE is looping (I will assume this makes sense).

Why hasn't Loop say anything about this to the other family members? Because.

Why hadn't they told Siffrin that the rest of the party is looping? Because Siffrin knows already but he's in negation, to put it simple (and because something something they know Siffrin would mcblinding lose it and they don't want that)

I'm also gonna add the little fact that Loop's mask only works with Siffrin, and it slips a bit TOO often with the rest of the family.

Are you seeing the possible drama??? Do you see my vision???

Anyways, full and alt text under cut, I'm going to sleep or finish that hollow knight skin, whatever comes first BYE

Alt text:

First page:

- First panel shows Bonnie bringing Loop a plate of dumplings. Loops is sitting at the favor tree (they're wearing Odile's coat from the previous comic)

Bonnie: "Star head!"

Loop: "don't call me that kid."

Bonnie: "I bring you. Dumplings."

- Second panel shows Loop with a sad expression holding one of the dumplings

Loop: "Aww Bon-bon...

thank you but... I don't think I can eat anything at all" (whispering: "I don't have a mouth")

A text pointing at Loop says "trying not to burst into tears"

- Thirth panel shows Bonnie holding the plate of dumplings

Bonnie: "Yes you can!"

Loop: "wha-? No I'm pretty sure I-"

Bonnie: (interrupts) "You just have to ask for it!"

"To the universe or something"

"Is what the king said!"

- Forth panel:

Bonnie: "If Frin can ask for a country you can ask to eat!"

- Fifth panel:

Loop: -sigh- "Alright"

"I'll try"

- Sixth panel shows Loop somehow having a mouth under the light of their face and eating the dumpling.

- Seventh panel is Loop's surprised reaction.

Second page:

-First panel is both Loop and Bonnie surprised

Loop (thinking): "you can eat."

-Second panel:

Bonnie: "So? How is it?"

Loop (thinking): "you can eat!!! You can taste!!!"

A text pointing at Loop says "trying REALLY hard not to cry"

Thirth panel:

Bonnie: "uh... Loop?"

Loop: "thank you snack leader for this delicious meal"

A text pointing at Loop says "failure"

-Forth panel is Loop and Bonnie sitting at the favor three. Loop is cleaning their tears and Bonnie is sitting next to them about to fall asleep.

[hajihiko]

It runs in the family

[krazieka2]

big things happening on my twitter rn

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

if i have to see one more person say that the show downgraded gabe from being abusive to just bad im gonna get my head stuck through a wall out of frustration. sally had to ask him permission to leave her own home with a car she probably pays for as the only person with income. our first impression is him being verbally abusive to a repair person. percy has to brace himself before going inside because he knows it's not safe in HIS own home. gabe ANSWERS SALLYS PHONE WITHOUT HER PERMISSION. he only backs down from making fun of percy when he finds out he was kicked out of school for violence- he's almost impressed. we didnt see gabe physically assault anyone but we have a whole season left to see him go on public tv and frame his own stepson for murder. please please understand that sally yelling back at her abuser does not make him any less abusive or mean he has any less power over her

[benevolenterrancy]

I'm very excited for the last volume of DTBPF coming out this month, so have a TGCF au in the meantime. Who's *more* likely to betray himself for the sake of food, Li Yu or He Xuan?

San Lang is very cheerfully Not Helping

[bleugioh]

Yami Yugi scolding people for not loving their pets god he’s so endearing

[firewheelmkii]

SAVE ME, IF YOU'RE WILLING TO DIE

[boycub]

A dark desire you don't understand.

[padfootastic]

can’t help but think of how, if we choose to go by sirius’ characterisation as a private, arrogant teen who only lets a select few into his circle, sirius’ post-azkaban life just have been such an utterly humiliating experience for him.

especially OoTP. when he has all these near strangers in his childhood house, that he hated and loved and ran away from and couldn’t ever escape. if he spent his entire pre-azkaban existence building a cold and aloof persona, not letting people know what his home life had been like, then to have all of these people get a front row seat to it because of kreacher and portrait walburga’s shenanigans must have been near unbearable. to have the entire order, including snape whom he disliked and mistrusted, hear the kinds of names he’s being called.

not only does he have to deal with the retraumatisation of his childhood, but also the fact that he’s flayed open for everyone to see. it’s not only his freedom, innocence, dignity that has been snatched from him but his privacy also. it’s such a cruel thing to experience, on top of everything else.

to have literal children, his godson who he has been kept away from all this while, whom he presumably wants to be able to look up to him, to have him see into the deepest parts of his soul. to have to be so weak in front of him. not only is he subjected to such vileness but he also cannot do anything about it.

sirius has not had a moment of peace in all the time we knew him. it is indignity upon indignity that is heaped onto him. every other character has gotten a moment of respite but him. it fully breaks my heart.