#child abuse ment cw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere--stuck · 3 months

Note

if you have any more thoughts on the Joker Junior extending the family take I'd love to hear them!! Would J be interested in having Nightwing with them? Or Alfred? I'm not sure how well either of them would take to the venom, but if they have Batman anything's possible

Less ideas and more of an actual fic, oopsie!

---

Three weeks. Three long, agonizing weeks without Tim. Three weeks of hoping beyond all hope that he was somehow fine. That they'd all look back on this and laugh.

But, no. Eventually, Bruce was able to get word that The Joker and Harley had holed themselves up in the abandoned Arkham Asylum, and something in his gut that made him sick knew there was some correlation.

Part of him hadn't wanted Barbara to come along, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to stop her even if he tried. So, the two of them traversed through the crumbling asylum together and followed the echoing sound of Harley's voice singing a lullaby.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird,

And if that mockingbird don't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring….”

Closer, closer. It took both of them every bit of will they had not to sprint through the halls as fast as their legs could carry them. As Harley’s voice grew even louder, Barbara split up to find another way in while Bruce took the lead. His heart nearly leapt from his chest with anticipation as he closed in on her location.

“And if that diamond ring is brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass,

And if that looking glass gets broke-”

The moment Harley saw him burst through the double doors, she perked up, greeting Bruce with a smile. She was cradling a flower vase in her arms, which she set down onto a covered table. Craning her neck, she shouted over her shoulder. “Puddin’, Hubby's home!”

Bruce’s eyes followed Harley’s gaze, spotting Joker on the second floor where he rested on a recliner. With a flourish, The Clown rose to his feet, turning away from his rabbit-eared television set and popping a pipe from his mouth, tossing it aside.

“Well, hello, dear!” Joker strolled down the stairs, stopping just shy of Batman. He wrapped an arm around Harley, the two of them smiling sweetly at their bat. “Welcome home.”

Bruce all but snarled in their faces, leaning close and baring his teeth. “Where's Robin?”

Both clowns shared a quizzical look.

“Robin?” Joker repeated with a quirk of his head. “There's no Robin here!”

“Maybe he means our little J,” Harley offered.

The Clown Prince of Crime snapped his fingers. “Of course! That's it.”

Meeting the Bat's eyes, smiling back at his scowl, Joker gestured to the other side of the room. To whatever was being concealed behind the large blue curtain. And Bruce couldn't help his rage, shoving the couple aside roughly as he moved to cross the room.

The Joker stumbled back, recovering with the shake of his head and click of his tongue. “He must be so stressed out from work.”

“I hate it when he gets like this. He never knows when ta relax,” Harley shook her head and reached underneath the table, pulling out a bazooka from beneath the tablecloth. She fired, and a band of ribbons erupted from the muzzle, knocking Batman to the floor with a hard thud and wrapping him up like a gift - bow and all.

“Good thing he has us. Hmm, now what say we bring this little gift of ours back to the bedroom to unwrap?”

Joker's grin stretched just a little wider as he noticed the movement of Batman's hand - holding it up just so as if to signal someone, just out of eyesight, to stand down. Joker's eyes crinkled. Perfect. He wondered, was it the eldest birdboy? Or maybe they'd be getting two bats with one stone?

“Y'know, Bat's, we've been doing this little run around for years,” Joker spoke again, approaching his prone enemy. “It's been loads of laughs! But the sad fact is - none of us are getting any younger.”

Harley joined his side, patting her stomach. “That ol’ clock's a tickin’!”

“Quite right, Pooh! So, Harley and I were thinking it's about time the three of us finally settled down together.”

“But rather than experiencing the joys of pregnancy, we decided the best way would be to just marry into the family.”

Hand-in-hand, the clowns walked over their Bat's prone form to each rest a hand on the curtain in front of them.

“But no matter how happy we are to join you, we were a bit disappointed that we didn't really have the chance to nurture them, too,” Joker lamented. “And after all, what better way to officially join the family than to impart a little bit of our personalities to the kiddos? He needed a bit of molding, of course, but-”

The couple yanked on each side of the curtain, the blue cloth sliding and billowing out as it parted - revealing a child strapped to a medical examination table.

“... What kid doesn't?” Joker finished with a grin, drinking in the Dark Knight's reaction.

Bruce couldn't help the exhale of ‘no’ that left him. Couldn't even blink, too horrified to look away from what had been done to Tim. The horror set in all at once, like freezing water flooding through every nerve in his system.

Joker brought Tim forward with the click of a button, the table rolling forward and bringing the boy into the light.

Tim...

His face an acid-washed white. His hair an unearthly green. His Robin costume now replaced with an exact recreation of Joker's own suit. And his face… Contorted in a pained smile and his eyes wide and afraid, unblinking.

“Say hello to Dada, JJ,” Joker cooed.

Tim's eyes, seeming to glow red in the light, shifted from Joker to Batman. He leaned further into the light, locking eyes with Bruce, and laughed. He laughed in a way Bruce had never, ever heard before. He unbound himself from the table, leaping to the floor on scrawny legs - God, how much weight had he lost in such a short amount of time. What had they done to his boy?

All at once, the cold shock and dawning horror inside Bruce shifted - and his whole body was alight with rage, like a fire inside threatening to escape through every orifice as he ripped through his bonds. The shout he made was near inhuman, launching a batarang he had cut the ribbons with directly at Joker's head, only for the Clown to dodge it with ease.

Harsh giggles flooded from Joker's throat, wiggling a finger in a ‘come hither’ motion before jumping onto the now vacant medical table, rocketing off with the click of a button, causing Bruce to almost stumble and reorient himself to take off after him - and leaving Barbara to deal with Harley.

—

Giggles bubbled from Tim JJ's throat as he stared unblinkingly down at his father, body crumpled on the floor, cape draped almost protectively over his prone body. And with giddy glee, The Joker Papa J hopped down from the giant building blocks he was perched upon, where he had sliced at Batman and sent him tumbling down only seconds ago.

It was all a blur for Bruce. The chase. The horrific videos of Tim… Tim's torture. Three weeks. Three weeks of that Hell. Electrocution. Beatings. Torment. Starvation. And it was all his fault. He'd failed him. The rage that had filled him nearly completely, made him seen red, had all been snuffed out.

First Jason. Now Tim. And Bruce still couldn't bring him to end this. His vision swam, and he could barely even focus. Not on Tim. Not on the man who tortured him. But… Wait. Where was-?

With a final hop, Joker landed in front of Batman in a crouch, hovering over him with a sly grin.

“You've lost, Bruce,” He rasped, and just hearing the name on the clown's lips made JJ seize up, his forever-smile momentarily twitching and a flood of nervous giggles escaping him. The clown continued, voice low. “Robin is mine… And now, so are you.”

And with a hearty heft, Joker lifted Bruce up by the scruff of his cowl and cape, as if presenting him. The grin of his face, the look in his eyes, as he looked down on his enemy. So proud of himself, so smug.

And Bruce. He looked in a daze, lost and beaten. Blood dripped from his lips.

This isn't what Papa promised. He said everything would be okay now. That he'd see Dad and Dick and Babs and Alfred again and he wouldn't be mean or hurt him again, because Papa knew he would be good now…

But when Joker met his eyes, something in them changed - his smile warping to somehow become comforting, happier. The darkness in his eyes dissipated, replaced with an excited shine. And with a free hand, The Clown grabbed for a large gun that looked more like a toy than anything.

“Here ya go, sonny-boy!” He said, tossing the weapon.

JJ scrambled forward to catch it. He couldn't help but notice how light the gun felt as he cradled it in his shaking, gloved hands. For a moment, he couldn't look away.

“Make him one of us,” The Joker urged, voice like a hiss.

It wasn't a conscious decision to aim the gun. It just happened. Like one minute, JJ was there and gone and back again. His hands shook so hard that he could hardly keep the weapon straight. Could barely even look at him. At the mask. At the man behind it.

“Tim…” Batman breathed. JJ had never heard his voice sound so small.

JJ would swear he couldn't breathe if it weren't for the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the wheezing, giggling exhales that escaped him as he struggled to calm down. Tears threatened to pool from his eyes.

This wasn't right. But, Papa knows best. He said everything would be okay afterward. He said he wouldn't be punished again. But, he couldn't. But, he couldn't run, either - too scared. Too weak. He wanted to be home. He wanted his family. He wanted to stop crying, to be able to breathe, to run into his fathers’ arms-

“It's alright now, JJ,” The Joker soothed, recapturing the boy's attention. “Just pull the trigger, and everything will be okay.”

JJ wanted his Papa to be telling the truth. He just wanted everything to be okay. He just wanted it all to stop. Bruce, please forgive him.

His finger squeezed around the trigger-

Joker's laugh filled the room, just as a green mist began flooding from the gun’s opening. It spread through the air and quickly covered both men. Joker laughed long and loud as he clung to Batman. He pulled his Bat into an embrace, a smile so bright and wide it made the corners of his mouth rip, as Bruce began to choke and hack.

The man seized up and shook in Joker's arms. Slow at first, but soon trembling and writhing in agony, barely restrained and pained chuckles escaping him. So much hurt flooding through every nerve and system that almost faculties left him. His lungs burned, his face ached, he couldn't feel his extremities and wouldn't have been able to hold himself up without Joker's hold on him. Bruce wasn't sure if he could speak or even breathe anymore, but somehow his body found it in itself to betray him, forcing laughter from gritted teeth.

Joker took a knee, gently laying Batman to the ground. The bat spasmed and jerked. Tears began to fall from behind his mask, shining on his cheeks in the light. Gloved hands caressed the sides of Bruce's face. Green eyes glinted in the light as they watched each movement of the other man - every sputter, every gasp, every choked out laugh, every pained, slowly blooming smile that wobbled onto his face.

“You must be so scared, aren't you, sweetheart?” Joker cooed. “You've been scared this whole time, haven't you? Ever since that night in the alleyway...”

Batman didn't reply - couldn't. His eyes crinkled as his smile grew involuntarily. All he could do was return the man's gaze with a manic smile that wasn't his own.

Joker stroked the top of his cowl lovingly. “But it's okay now, Bruce. You don't have to be scared anymore. You don't have to be strong. Don't have to hold yourself back. Me and Harl will build you back up to what you were meant to be. We'll be brave for you now. And do you know why?”

Bruce couldn't respond. For one, the agony of whatever this was, whatever Joker had planned for him, blotted out almost all thoughts in his mind completely. Could only tremble and writhe and cry and laugh. Laugh. Laugh. The laughing made it hurt just a little less. But he could still barely even register what the other man was saying. What he could register, though, was the image of Joker slowly leaning down to press his lips to Bruce's cloaked forehead.

“Because we love you.” Joker finished.

—

“Ohhhh, Harley!” Joker's voice rang through the cavernous halls of the abandoned asylum. “Barbie's turn!”

Barbara's stomach sunk to her feet and her heart skipped a beat. Barbie? No. No, there was no way, he could have known her name. Oh God, what happened to Bruce-?

In the middle of her ruminations, Harley caught her by surprise. A jab to the face, the pull of her leg to trip her up leaving her scrambling to correct her fall- only for her to feel hand grasp tightly at the nape of her neck, coiling painfully at the root of her hair. She was shoved onto her stomach, face-to-face with the dirty, cracked tiles of the former asylum’s floor.

“You know what that means! C'mon, Barbie,” Harley grunted, fingers twisting in the roots of her hair. She lunged forward, slamming her face to the floor with a sick crunch. “Let's go party!”

And everything went dark.

… Barbara awoke with a groan. The smell of pennies flooded her nostrils. Her vision was bleary and swam as she struggled to open her eyes.

A dark figure entered her vision from her periphery, and it loomed over a figure clad in purple. And for a moment, just one moment, she allowed herself to hope.

But, that hope crumbled just as quickly as Joker's voice entered her ears.

“You're okay, Bruce, you're okay, sweetie. You're gonna play nice now, right?”

Barbara couldn't help but shudder at the sound of Bruce's laugh in reply.

Hands found their way to Barbara's hair again, this time much softer. Not grabbing, just brushing and stroking almost soothingly.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs ‘n bakey,” Harley sang as she carded her hands through the younger woman's hair. “Y'know, I've always wanted a daughter. A little girl of my own. You think you'd ever want Mama to braid your hair for you? It's so pretty!”

“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, Barbie,” Joker greeted. “Your Dad and I were just talking about you. A real chip off the ol’ block. Now all we need is to make it official.”

Barbara watched as Tim approached Bruce, pushing a gun of some kind into his hands. The Batman held it in his hands, smiling down at the weapon - but seemed almost hesitant. Unsure. Like he knew this was wrong. Like the weapon would somehow come alive and bite him.

“Batman, listen to me,” Batgirl pleaded. “Don't do this. Whatever they've done to you, this isn't you.”

“Oh, but it is! And soon it'll be you, too,” Harley corrected, walking back to give herself some distance.

“I know you're torn, Batsy, but I promise this is for the best,” Joker rubbed circles into the other man's back. “We'll all finally be together. Once we get Barbie here, then we'll get Dick and Al. And we'll be a family! They'll never be hurt again. You'll never be hurt again, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen anymore. You'll get your happily ever after. You won't be afraid ever again, I promise.”

Tears stung at Barbara's cheeks as she begged. “Batman, please!”

And for a moment, she thought she somehow got through to him. They locked eyes and Bruce smiled at her with a smile that isn't his own. But, she thought she could see understanding or recognition or something in his eyes, and was sure he'd toss the gun away and start kicking Joker's ass.

But, she was wrong.

With a hiss, green toxin flooded all around her. Even over her screams, the sounds of Joker, Tim, Harley, and Bruce's laughter smothered her completely. And soon after, so did her own.

76 notes · View notes

the-shinysnorlax · 5 months

Text

God I’m begging. On all hands and knees. If you are going to write Miguel in a fic. Read his comics. Go to his wiki page. Do RESEARCH. Because I am sick and tired of people mischaracterizing Miguel ESPECIALLY here on Tumblr. It’s ridiculous.

Like my guy is not flirtatious. He’s a pathetic sad little nerd (Affectionate) who alienates himself from everyone and doesn’t know how to express his feelings so he just becomes overtly sarcastic. That’s Miguel.

Also y’all. REMEMBER THAT GABRIEL EXISTS. HE HAS A FAMILY.

Lastly Miguel was abused as a child. Hes tried unaliving himself. Miguel has trauma that isn’t just his daughter dying.

So yeah. Miguel is a complex character. I get it. But again, it is not hard to do research on him and his character. I beg. I’m tired of the blatant Mischaracterization of him. Please please PLEASE read his comics or at least read his wiki page. Anything. I’m done with him being written as a completely different character.

#miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #marvel comics #across the spiderverse #atsv #Snorlax rambles #abuse ment tw #child abuse ment cw #suicide ment tw #you can also ask me or other Miguel comic experts for advice and recs too #like I don’t mind #just please try to do research on this man before writing him because he’s a extremely complex character

143 notes · View notes

coulsonlives · 10 months

Text

So ummm, yeah, this person might have made some good posts in the past, but this is NOT okay.

They've also revealed themselves to be a TERF/radfem (their alt blog is balkanradfem).

#the link goes to an archived post where they reblogged a post they made on balkanradfem and acknowledged that was their blog too #(first paragraph in that post)#ofc they've since deleted it but it's archived so whoop #the only reason i'm not censoring their name is bc they're a big popular support blog that a lot of ppl trust #here's a tip from me: don't #furiousgoldfish #terf warning #ableism cw #forced sterilization cw #eugenics cw #aspd #antisocial personality disorder #terf ment cw #radfem ment cw #transphobia ment cw #child abuse ment cw

36 notes · View notes

itbe-jess · 6 months

Text

More of my redesign of CL Rayman, featuring little Ray.

Rayman is collecting those years with Bullfrog from when he was a child. (…named Ramon) It was around the 1960s when he was exiled from his home world, and then lived to be scared, mistreated, and starving in this new dimension called Earth. Despite the horrible conditions, he always hoped for faith to find him someday. Mr. Eden eventually found him, as his singing caught his attention, and offered him a position that promised him a time to shine. He also told him he could be America’s hero. Eden wasn’t a very nice father to Ray, but he still gave him a home and fed him, not to mention made him the man he is today. Rayman thought that making the world a better place was worth sacrificing his whole childhood for. Right?

I think it would’ve been better if Rayman did begin as a child star, who would grow up having his innocence robbed from him. His loyalty towards Eden is based on that of an abusive parental relationship. He had been yelled at for crying, scolded for acting like a real kid, hit for talking back, and manipulated into maturing up or he’ll make his country look bad. Once the truth came out of Bullfrog, Rayman then faced the sad reality that his entire childhood was wasted for nothing. He wanted to help people, but did the opposite. People are suffering because of him. They hate him. For 30 painful years, he was nothing more than Eden’s little puppet. Who could blame Ramon? He was only a small, naive child then. Children are very easy to take advantage of.

#Rayman #video games #art #Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix #redesign #child abuse ment cw #Ramon: Our Only Hero

12 notes · View notes

craycraybluejay · 9 months

Text

When You Go To The Child Torturer's House

Do not be surprised when there is child torture. Do not show alarm.

Instead, do assure The Child Torturer that you are its friend. Feed it some milk teeth from your work or family, but never from yourself. If you feed it your own milk teeth there will be consequences.

Do not attempt to remove the children or call for help. In fact, best not to interact with them, I promise you it knows. It knows what you are doing. It watches and listens. In fact, it does so through the collected children.

How? You may ask. To clarify, you may ask me, do not ask The Child Torturer where its abilities come from, how they work, anything about it. The Child Torturer takes off parts of its parasitic body (if you could call it a body) and gives them to the children, usually as food when the child grows so hungry they will eat anything. Oftentimes, The Child Torturer's body appears as a grotesque amalgamation of the deepest fears of its children. It decorates itself at will, not unlike making yourself into a Christmas tree. But when it gives a piece of itself for the child to consume, it appears as a black gravelly sludge, with a sheen of blue-green. When the victim consumes this, it changes inside them.

The strange substance The Child Torturer is made from turns so fluid that it can penetrate flesh, bone, and sinew. It worms its way inside in short bursts over a period anywhere from one to three weeks. It squirms under the skin, dances within organs, rushes in one's veins and arteries. It turns the children pale and sickly, malnourished. At first. After the initial infection is complete, The Child Torturer uses its many abilities to draw on its life source-- youthful imagination and wonder, juvenile hope and compassion. It poisons imagination with ugliness, wonder with fear, hope with abysmally hopeless conditions, and compassion by stoking hatred. That's the thing-- too. The transition into adulthood is by no means a linear one in humans, but for The Child Torturer it is even less so. To one of these creatures, it determines its victims not by how many times they have gone around the sun but by how pure their will is. Not pure in any regular sense; untouched by violence, or sex, or ugliness. But pure in the sense that one gets much easier creative breakthroughs as a child. Pure in the sense that one sees cruelty and suppression and laughs in its face. Pure in the sense of an unbroken hope regardless of what has gone on in the human's lifespan. Life force itself. Loud emotions, good recovery, bravery, wanderlust.

You are not suited to meet The Child Torturer if you retain too much of this life force. He may just add you to his collection. Anyway. What goes on after the initial infection, after the diminishing of life force?

The child begins to grow or shrink strangely, coming to look monstrous themselves. Their senses optimize, oft becoming so powerful that it is painful to exist. The little piece of The Child Torturer they have eaten grows larger, like a particularly parasitic embryo. Most notably, they begin to lose certain faculties past a certain point. First to go is the ability to speak, the vocal cords being clogged and slowly replaced with impenetrable, elastic blackness. They squirm around in ones throat quite uncomfortably if they try to speak, eventually the victim gives up on this impossible endeavor. Next goes the ability to make choices or understand complex concepts. After that, once the life source on that particular child has run dry, they lose access to all off their senses, touch included. They are now by all means a vessel, unable to do much of anything but feel complete dread and horror. Their mind is too compromised to even grasp what is going on or form a coherent thought. It is just pain, fear, and hopelessness. Not even rage is a mercy granted to these poor souls. Not even the purity of rage. The Child Torturer now crawls inside every crevice, and this is the only sensation the fully transformed victim is able to feel. Parasitism is a scary thing, no?

But what can you, dear reader, do about this wretched being? Can it be killed? Can it be imprisoned? Thus far, no one has succeeded in either. And believe you me, many have tried. Even I have run into it way back when. Tried to do the whole hero thing. Almost became lunch. I still have a little piece of it inside me, too far outside its radius of influence to grow or change. I feel it moving sometimes, keeping me awake at night many years later. Especially when I'm having a nice moment. It loves those. I reckon the only way it can die is to starve it for long enough. But how to keep people from playing hero? How to keep curious humans from following the strange and alluring energy they noticed on a wet Tuesday morning? It's hard to resist, the pull to adventure. No less difficult with little life force than with much. Although with the state of the world nowadays I watch with bated breath, both dread for humanity and anxious to see the end of this creature, as less and less humans are drawn to help or to explore. As both quietly and loudly the state of affairs drives us to impure apathy, hopelessness, turns us into wretched beasts, monuments to nothing. Fear presses in from all sides, monsters both in the office buildings and deep in the woods, siphoning from you, sipping on you like a good old fashioned juice box. Your will to live will kill you, and so will your lack of it. How to kill both us AND them, when we know "us" is quite the same and on a much larger scale. How to eliminate poison from our diet when it's in all the food and water. How to erase the parasite when it is sitting behind your pupil, watching as you write this foreboding tale.

Maybe, possibly, if you could map out The Child Torturer's common hangouts. If you could put up signs of toxic waste or radiation in those areas. Maybe then it could starve without us needing to be drained. Maybe if we work together. Maybe. But for now, as with any disaster, no coordinated effort is being made to prevent or reverse it. And so, as with any disaster, more will fall victim. But hey, I'm sure high-tech battle-weapons and suppressing the newest minority of the year and making sure people can't access information will come to be useful sometime, right? Right?? I'm sure it's more important than monsters, storms, and suicides. I'm sure it's more important.

15 notes · View notes

returnedfromthepurge · 4 months

Text

I still remember.

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

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

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

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

Everything below the cut is what the tags are about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#abuse mention.#tw sui ideation #child abuse ment cw #daycare Problems #parenting issues #emotional labor #i'm better now #kill the lazy parenting ideas

2 notes · View notes

artemiscalled · 9 months

Text

“Adults who were hurt as children inevitably exhibit a peculiar strength, a profound inner wisdom, and a remarkable creativity and insight. Deep within them - just beneath the wound - lies a profound spiritual vitality, a quiet knowing, a way of perceiving what is beautiful, right, and true. Since their early experiences were so dark and painful, they have spent much of their lives in search of the gentleness, love, and peace they have only imagined in the privacy of their own hearts.”

— Wayne Muller, Legacy of the Heart: The Spiritual Advantage of a Painful Childhood

#wayne muller #spirituality #a quiet knowing #child abuse mention #child abuse ment cw

2 notes · View notes

carbonateddelusion · 1 year

Text

mental illness (he is thinking about 80s Jack and Maddie)

the song I most strongly associate with both of them is CG5's cover of "I Can't Fix You" by TLT

youtube

they actually do have a fair bit in common tbh. I think of them as both deeply selfish people

Jack thinks that nothing in life is given easily; you have to TAKE to get what you deserve. no free handouts. kill or be killed. so it's natural, with that mindset, for him to be incredibly selfish

Maddie... doesn't want to face how fucked up her reality is, so she shuts herself off emotionally from everybody else around her. she has this veneer of taking nothing seriously because she selfishly wants to cut herself off completely from the people she loves to not be hurt anymore.

Mads has this image of what younger Jack was like in her mind. she thinks of Chuck as the logical conclusion to someone being treated like shit all their life, but she only harbors sympathy for him as a child, not his current self. she's convinced that Jack has some kind of grudge against her for not being quiet and obedient, and that if she'd "behaved" better in her life she'd still be alive.

but she eventually finds out that, no, Jack isn't mad at her because she wasn't the bubbly baby she used to be. it's not because she's changed. he's always hated her. she took his mother's very precious attention because. of course. a small child needs a lot more supervision than a teenager. and then, she was (in his mind) the reason why their mother ended up killing herself.

he NEVER liked her. Maddie didn't have a chance to begin with.

#idk i just think their dynamic is very interesting #they're both very self-minded people so even in the modern universe they clash #jack feels like maddie is always rubbing the fact that she's smarter in his face (she is) and he resents her for it #suicide ment cw #child abuse ment cw #child death cw #child murder cw #i also think maddie and eddie are v interesting...#Youtube #oc ramblings #oc: jack #in the 80s #jack in the 80s #jack's maddison #oc: maddison #maddison in the 80s #oc music time

4 notes · View notes

spoofymcgee · 9 months

Text

list of things not to look up past midnight before bed:

- the plot synopsis of any episodes of grey's anatomy (you will end up doomscrolling for the drama)

- horror films about child abuse based on real, actual stories (you will look up the real, actual stories they are based on)

- the gristly murder of said child abuser (you will start to think you can hear her ghost coming down the stairs)

in other news. i am so fuckin anxious right now. and it is all my own fault. gonna go play video games until my heart stops pounding, good night.

#murder tw #child abuse ment cw #what not to google late at night #spoof.txt #late night bad decisions

0 notes

100cat · 10 months

Text

JUST finished Higurashi Chapter 3: Tatarigoroshi

Spoilers below 030

WTFFFF??? HUH

GGJHJGJG BECOME THE CURSE MY GUY

Ok ok so more coherent thoughts:

Coach has grown on me a bit but I still won’t stan him you don’t talk to (or about) kids like that sir 😤👎

I really liked the scary moments, like the one Tip where it read off child abuse statistics and it just had a b/w Satoko looking dead inside at the corner like ACK

And the prevalence of the extra footsteps… creepy and cool and I like how it’s mentioned at the very end. But I. I’m still not sure what it meannsss XD

At first I assumed it was alternate Keiichi (guy who went to festival)’s steps, but idk if him and his happy life would have been at places like the bridge.

OK and the freaking…. Cursing people to die?! Was Ooyashiro-sama like “nooo you CANT kill Teppei Houjou but you can kill everyone else with curses 👍” (OBSESSED it makes me think of an OC I have HKGKF-)

Or is that really the punishment for murder… legit everyone dying GJGJF

Oh and poor Satoko!! She was the same as Keiichi near the end- wanting to kill the demon possessing her friend… reminds me of Onikakushi where Keiichi kills both Rena and Mion, both in self defense and to kill The Demons ya know. I loooove parallels like this 030

I might need to re-read the beginning tho, cuz I’m not sure what body they discovered at the beginning. I’m probably missing something obvious HKGKG-

But yeah. Scary. Pretty cool- it feels like the plot could work as a stand alone horror story, but definitely works best here, to progress the lore!!

Dead people need to start staying dead I swear FHFJG

But that’s interesting- in Watanagashi they mention the corpses of people who people saw after the date of their death- but the uncle had no body at all, so I’m trying to guess what is happening

I guess it is possible for Keiichi to have done something he shouldn’t have, and ended up in a parallel world- who knows XD

I’d still say I liked the other two more but I still really enjoyed this one 030

#Higurashi #higurashi when they cry #child abuse ment cw #my posts

1 note · View note

voxtism · 6 months

Text

had a friend make a "haha bad teeth" joke and I went hatred about the American healthcare system mode

id in image description :3

also the text below (just in case tumblr destroys image quality)

its rlly rough for people with bad teeth to get any sort of treatment bc its horrific how very few dentists will accept medicare/medicaid/medical :/ its not just that they have 'meth/drug teeth" or that they "ate too much sugar" its that the healthcare system is designed to fuck over the poor. poverty begets more poverty, and it's so fucking hard to get jobs, even low paying ones, when you have "grew up poor, grew up abused, drug addict" teeth. real life example, when my dad finally got full custody of little my brother, there were literal holes in my baby brothers teeth. my brother was 3 years old. and he was lucky enough for them to be baby teeth, bc that meant pulling them had little long term effect, besides him needing braces later in teen years, but that's just one way that my mother fucked us over. she didnt take care of him, she never brushed his teeth, she didnt feed him, it was all so horrific to learn about years later. and i am afraid to think about what it's like for the kids who... weren't saved. who didn't get out. who couldn't grow up with healthy teeth, who grew up poor, who grew up with parents like my mom. its honestly rlly awful how people consider bad teeth to be a character flaw, or something, when in reality.... its poverty? its lack of access to healthcare?? its the medical system fucking over poor people in every way possible.

obviously i am not mad but i am just thinking a lot about it now

#abuse cw #abuse mention #abuse ment tw #child abuse tw #^safety obviously #I hate the American healthcare system!

22 notes · View notes

coulsonlives · 8 months

Text

I first started understanding who Zuko was when I found out how he got his scar. When I found out his father scarred him, and for all the reasons why he did; talking out in the war council and whatnot, I started understanding, oh, he's not the villain. He's just an abused kid. And he's trying to get through it.

Dante Basco, FanX 2022

#😭#zuko #atla zuko #child abuse ment cw #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #atla spoilers #avatar the last airbender spoilers

28 notes · View notes

prettyboyprincely · 2 months

Text

And, in a shocking turn of events, it turns out the “anti groomer” crowd is okay with child abuse, so long as it is a cis person doing it

This is the world they want. A world where they can use violence to force children to conform to them.

#child abuse #child abuse tw #tw child abuse #child abuse ment #child abuse mention #child abuse cw #cw child abuse #physical abuse #physical abuse ment #physical abuse mention #physical abuse tw #tw physical abuse #cw physical abuse #physical abuse cw

7 notes · View notes

wisteriasymphony · 10 hours

Text

comfort snapshot for @asukiess ignore whatever the other one's name is queen she's not important just crtl+f mari onto it no biggie

---

The lock looked simple, and like it had been forced upon before in the past. Claudia fought with the doorhandle for a moment, but it wouldn't open.

Jesus, calm down. You know he gets a bit of a fuse sometimes, hearing you try to break a door down isn't gonna fucking help you much.

She sighed, speaking softly.

"Adrien, I'm going to try and open the door," Claudia whispered, "And then I am going to step inside. I am not going to hurt you. I won't even come close if you don't want me to. Okay?"

Three minutes of dead silence. And so, she slipped her fingernail into the lock's middle slot, the lightest force enough to spring it open. She tread carefully into the bathroom, finding Adrien in the corner. He had ransacked every cabinet in the room and stolen all the towels and washcloths and even the bathroom rug; And in that corner, he had curled up in a ball and covered himself with them, until his silhouette was more of a shifting mass of fabric than a boy.

He didn’t bother to look at Claudia, only muttering “I’m disgusting” under his breath like it was a curse.

“Hey, people say things they don’t mean all the time.” Claudia slowly knelt down onto the floor, watching Adrien with a concerned gaze.

“I promise I didn’t mean it. I don’t– I wouldn’t want—“

“Shh. It’s fine, okay? I’m not mad over it or anything,” she said, crawling over to him. “…I’m going to put my hand on your head. Is that alright?”

He nodded, and so Claudia started to stroke his hair again. Adrien still couldn’t bear to look at her… but the feeling was nice. Even if it only led to more tears. It was insane to think that she’d still really love him after that. Was he even worth it? She had to have known that he wasn’t.

"Why do you stay?" Adrien finally asked. "You seem to make it so clear that I don't mean anything to you. Like one of these days you're going to discard me at the drop of a hat." He stared her down with dull, watery eyes, for the first time in a long while. "Why do you even stick around?"

It was clear that there was a very specific answer he was looking for. One that validated all of his worst fears, one that reminded him that even the person he loved most in the world would only ever see him as one thing. But Claudia was tired of lying. Even when it meant she said things people weren't expecting to hear.

"Because I don't know what I'd do without you." Claudia slipped her jacket off her shoulders, placing it in Adrien's lap as another thing to cover himself with. "Because I like hearing you talk, and I like your laugh, and I like that none of your fancy photos ever show the dimple on your left cheek but I get to see it everyday." Claudia laughed to herself, admitting "..It's very faint, but it's there."

Adrien shifted closer to Claudia, leaning on her a little more. He was still crying, sure, but the tears were slowing down. She was doing something right for once.

"What else... I like listening to you play piano. I think you're the best in the whole world."

"Th... that's not true..."

"Psch! To me, it is. Beethoven can suck my left nut for all I care, he's probably terrible compared to you."

This time she got a laugh back. Another shift closer. Adrien had finally reached a hand out to cling onto her.

"..So you do love me?"

"Mhm." Claudia planted a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, I love you, I love you, and I mean it even more every time I say it. I don't care what you look like, what you say to me, even who you are. 'Cause I don't love Chat Errant, or Chat Noir, or even Adrien Agresté." She placed her pointer finger on his chest, leaning in to let their foreheads touch. "I just love you."

He broke out into sobs again, his face contorting into something scrunched and unsightly. "Y-you won't let me be cold anymore, right? I was s-so cold— I-" Adrien let his head fall to her shoulder, heaving and blubbering into it. "And the lights and they'd— The way she touched me in- I-in— It lasted for so long and- There's pictures of all of it and— A-all I can remember is that I was so cold-"

He stopped when he felt her hand hover over the towels draped on his shoulder—stopped talking, stopped breathing, probably stopped blinking too. Claudia could feel he had the most terrible fever, was probably only going to kill himself with all these layers... but she moved her hand to his head, ruffling his hair.

"No, I won't let you be cold," she said, taking off her shirt, then her bra: giving him the former but setting the latter on the floor. "Here. I'll warm you up."

When Adrien went to hug her, a few of the towels fell off his shoulders. Claudia swore she'd never been hugged this hard in her life—maybe that even most people would never been hugged this hard. He seemed to wrap his body around her, clinging on by every means he could, shaking and heaving and yet still holding on however he could. But Claudia was stable, and her skin felt like dew-kissed stones in a riverbank. Not cold, but just.. a little less warm. The good kind.

"D-do you ever feel like you want your mom," he asked, the words breaking against his tears, "...But you— But you know that she'd only make it worse?"

Claudia knew that if Adrien's mother had still been alive, this would have been the moment Claudia planned to kill her.

"...Every day, Eddí," she said, shifting to kiss the top of his head. "Every day."

#technically tweos spoilers oopsies #but if queen asukiess demands i shall provide <3 within reason #hurt/comfort #mostly comfort #thewarmembraceofshadow #miraculous fanfic #ficlet #cw csa mention #tw csa mention #csa ment tw #csa mention #cw child abuse mention #cw abuse mention #tw childhood trauma #tw mention of trauma #miraculous adrien #adrien agreste #mlb adrien

6 notes · View notes