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afraidparade · 1 year

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"A Kinder Reality"

Word count: 3,088 Genre: G/T, Hurt/comfort, Angst Content warnings: Detailed depictions of panic attacks/intrusive thoughts, mentions & allusions to gore, death, and suicide, fearplay, possessive behavior

(PLEASE read the CWs as this one is a bit darker than some of my other stuff! sorry if it gets a bit heavy lolol. i tried to base this off of my own personal experiences, as i often have memory problems as a result of vivid dreams and intrusive thoughts that give me a lot of anxiety. there's also not a ton of hurt/comfort where the giant is the one hurting so i hope this fills that emptiness 👍)

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Luka’s eyes snapped open, the sudden light he had yet to adjust to making it impossible to differentiate up from down. His fingertips clawed into the sheets around him, as if grasping desperately for purchase on an incomplete thought he held in his hands only a moment prior. What was this? Where had he been until now? It was difficult to recall the details, but the ache of breathlessness in his chest and the icy sweat that saturated his nightclothes was evidence that the experience had been far from pleasant.

He remembered feeling alone, yet surrounded. Helpless, but he wasn’t quite certain of what it was that threatened him. There was a room with chairs and people and…something else. Something that he was desperately terrified of. And it wasn’t that those faceless figures around him refused to respond to his cries and offer him aid, because he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. It was a dreadful sensation, sitting in that room and feigning calm, surrounded by those human-shaped husks. There was an overbearing presence behind him: the terrifying thing. Some sort of shadowy monster that sulked in a corner of the ceiling yet simultaneously managed to breathe down his neck. Luka could just feel its predatory anticipation, waiting for him to turn around, or speak, or blink, or any action it deemed unacceptable. He was sure it was there, yet no one else paid it any mind. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Did they even care that it was there? Did they even care that he was there? If the thing lunged down and ripped him apart right in front of their hollow eyes, would anyone even flinch? Perhaps they would feel grateful to the monster for ridding them of such a burden. Perhaps they would all be happier if he weren’t—

Luka pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. Dry. Water, he should drink water. Shapes began to form in the fuzzy white void of his vision, and the man soon recognized the wall of his bedroom. Which meant all those vague and terrible memories had just been made-up. A dream. A rasp of air blew through his chapped lips, as if he was attempting to laugh out of spite. What a cruel joke. He already got a pitiful amount of sleep as it was, and now he couldn’t even be afforded the luxury of feeling rested when he woke up? Well, such was life, he supposed. At least now he wasn’t alone.

At least now…he wasn’t…

Luka froze, and his head throbbed. The space on the mattress beside him was unoccupied. He managed to twist his neck to survey the other side of the room, enduring another sharp surge of pain in his skull. Empty. His lips parted, but he stayed silent.

Wasn’t there supposed to be someone else there?

A third, more definitive pulse in his head caused Luka’s eyes to wrench shut. His hands shot upwards to nurse the pain away, but when that didn’t work, his fingers became more frantic, each scratching at his hairline as if they had a mind of their own. There was some sort of vile growth blocking his airway. He didn’t know where it came from. It felt like the same sort of inky malevolence that the carnivorous presence from before was composed of.

Was this…real? Had he actually woken up?

He coughed, wheezing around the lump in his throat, panic setting in when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His diaphragm spasmed, and nausea followed soon after. His mouth was open, but if Luka was crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell. His sense of hearing had been reduced to a flat, monotone buzz.

How could he be certain that this wasn’t the dream? That every memory of having someone beside him, someone that actually cared about him, weren’t just artificial fragments of a bright, fuzzy dreamscape his brain made to protect itself? How was he supposed to know which memories to trust?

A dark ring began to close in around the corners of his vision, blotting out his surroundings like the final scene of an old film. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was just a trauma response. But Luka couldn’t bear this feeling, not being able to tell whether he was tumbling or stationary, awake or asleep, alive or dead. If he was alone again.

Again.

Again, again, again, it always happened, he always ended up like this. As if he was always destined to be an afterthought to everyone around him. As if it really wouldn’t matter if a monster swallowed him whole. And bitterly, with the last scrap of his consciousness that could form coherent thoughts, he wondered which reality was kinder: one where he’d tasted love and fulfillment only to discover it was never his to keep, or one where he’d never experienced such bitter joys, and never knew the severity of losing them.

Maybe he could wake up in the room with the people and the monster. Maybe then, even if it was for a second, someone would spare him a compassionate glance while that shadowy beast tore into his ribcage and—

“…ka?”

There was something warm on Luka’s cheek. Tears? No. Though it was only now that he noticed their presence, those felt chilly and wet. It was a small pressure, but it radiated familiarity. A shaky, sudden inhale — his consciousness felt so faint, he barely registered it as his own — and a question were the first sounds to break through the fuzzy, intangible blockade around his ears.

“What happened?”

It took several deep, uneven breaths and bewildered blinks before Luka could manage to see just past his nose. A humanoid shape finally came into focus, but unlike the figures in the other room, this one had a face. And, upon closer inspection, wasn’t human at all. Deep, glossy pools of black with white pinprick pupils stared wide at him with concern, and from behind a quivering frown, he could make out tiny, pointed teeth. Reddish horns, an absolute rat’s nest of black hair, and an ill-fitting shirt stitched together by his own clumsy hands, all wrapped up in a three-inch package. The details were too intimate to be mistaken for a dream.

It was Faust. His wonderful, impossible, real Faust.

Luka couldn’t muster the coherence to form words. Aside from the fogginess he felt after finally, truly waking up, he was still parched, and his throat felt bruised from his battle for breath. A hand retracted from his face, the palm damp from the tears it had inadvertently smeared around, and slowly reached towards the confused demon. Faust reached out for it without a moment’s hesitation, causing Luka’s fingers to twitch in surprise. He was real. It was miraculous. He was real.

But that looming dread from before still gripped at his chest unyieldingly. What if one day Luka woke up and he really was gone? How would he be able to bear being thrown from one cruel reality to the next without the reprieve of someone else to comfort him? No, not just anyone else, but Faust. There was no one else. It had to be Faust.

What would he do if he lost Faust?

Luka didn’t know what he was doing. His body moved almost robotically, stuttering every now and then as his brain tried to process how to proceed, all while his unblinking gaze lost focus and bore forward into the same nothingness. His fingers curled around Faust’s body rigidly, and while the demon didn’t protest, he began to shift uncomfortably. The human’s hand pulled back towards his body, his grip unconsciously tightening as it moved, only stopping when his companion was held flush against his chest and there was no space left for his hand to retreat to.

“Luka, this is— it’s kind of hard to breathe.”

Luka could hear him, so why couldn’t he stop? He didn’t want to hurt Faust. He would never do something like that. But he was so small. Even if daily life with a tiny imp had become routine, it didn’t change the fact that he was so very vulnerable. Ultimately powerless in the grand scheme of things. Beautifully unique, terrifyingly unique. There was no one else in the entire world like Faust. The big, dangerous, lonely world. Yes, it was so easy to keep him in place. It hardly took any effort at all. This was simply a reassurance that he had the means to keep Faust safe. To keep him close. To make him stay.

“Y-your heartbeat is crazy fast right now. Seriously, are you okay? I need you to respond to me, Luka!”

Luka’s chin lowered to brush against the hand trapping Faust in place, and without realizing it, his entire body had begun to curl around that point as well. It felt as though Faust was the very core of his entire person. This was beyond normal love, wasn’t it? This was obsession. Sick dependency. It disgusted him so, and yet his body refused to do anything but curl tighter. Like a boa constrictor wrapping around its next meal. Would he end up squeezing Faust until he stopped moving, too? It would be easy, Luka thought. Not that he wanted to. But it chilled him to know that he could.

“Don’t make me do this, Luka. I really don’t want to do this.”

Ah, this was what it felt like when they first met. The knowledge that he held this impossibly small being’s life in the literal palm of his hand, the understanding that he could take advantage of that, and the searing hatred Luka felt for himself when he did. It was horrible, but it was intoxicating, and he didn’t want it back, but a wretched part of him missed it. When exactly did he manage to overcome this feeling, Luka pondered? Somewhere along the way of falling for Faust? Realizing he’d need to change if he ever wanted Faust to reciprocate? Well, what did it truly matter if Faust reciprocated? Faust didn’t have to love him. He just needed to be here. He just needed to stay. Luka needed him to stay.

“…So be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

God, he was rotten. And delusional, too, to think he had actually changed. People don’t change. At least not people like Luka. Destined to be alone, again and again and again and again. He hated being alone. He hated himself. He hated this feeling. He hated that goddamn room from that goddamn dream. What was even the point? Why did he bother trying to fix something shattered beyond repair? What was stopping him from—

“Ca-li-for-nia girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy dukes, bikinis on top!”

…

What?

“Sun-kissed skin so hot, we’ll melt your popsicle — wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh, wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh…”

Faust’s muffled voice faded after the last vocalization, possibly waiting to see if there was a response. Or possibly due to being out of breath. After that, total stillness descended on the scene. Almost as if someone had merely pushed the power button on a remote and turned off all the static in Luka’s brain. It took a moment for him to process what in the hell had just happened, but after rewiring itself, his brain recalled a certain fact he knew he could always rely on:

Faust was a terrible singer.

Once his lungs finally remembered how to inhale, his body relaxed from its tensed and coiled state, releasing the small demon from his desperate grasp. As his vision slowly came into focus again, Luka inspected Faust’s state worriedly, suddenly horrified that he may have actually inflicted harm on his roommate. He was flushed red from a combination of the larger man’s overwhelming body heat and the intense pressure that likely inhibited his breathing, but other than a few gasps and coughs, he seemed surprisingly unbothered. Which was relieving first and foremost, but upsetting in its own right. He deserved to be upset. He deserved to resent Luka. The man swallowed as he attempted to regain his voice.

“...I hate that song,” he rasped plainly. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. I know,” Faust replied, still panting as he glanced upward, “I was sorta hoping that the hate and the shock would overpower…whatever it was you were feeling.”

Luka’s mouth hung agape. Had Faust really hinged both the wellbeing of himself and Luka on…an annoying pop song? And that actually worked? He couldn’t tell if the demon was an idiot or a genius. It was so ridiculous on so many layers that he simply couldn’t think about anything else. Those overbearing thoughts from mere moments prior vanished in a puff of smoke, just like that. Eventually he closed his mouth and allowed a small, warm grin to replace the anguish from before. He never smiled like this before meeting Faust. Funny, Luka thought, how very different his inner demons looked from the miniscule demon that stood before him.

“It did. Thank you.”

“God, you sound like shit,” the imp grumbled. Luka took the not-so-subtle hint and slowly sat himself upright, fumbling for the bottle of water that he kept on his bedside table. “What even happened? I had only just left to find myself something to snack on, but I turned back when I heard you making weird noises. Next thing I know, you’re suffocating me.”

Luka hesitated as he brought the bottle to his lips. An intense feeling of shame weighed down on his body as he recalled his actions, as well as the thoughts that accompanied them. It was probably better that Faust didn’t know every last detail of what brought his panic attack on…specifically, the thoughts concerning him. Sure, they had roots in the anxieties that Luka harbored in the back of his mind, but in that feverish state they had been amplified a hundred fold. They weren’t his true feelings. Or so he hoped, anyways

“I just…had a nightmare,” he answered simply, taking a swig from the container. Faust’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced that there was no other trigger for such an extreme episode, but he held his tongue. After all, he was in no place to doubt the impact of nightmares. Luka, not wanting to dwell in the uncomfortable silence any longer, continued, “I’m so sorry for putting you through that. It must’ve been scary. Are you hurt?”

The smaller shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

Luka wiped at a trail of water that trickled out of the corner of his mouth before capping the bottle. That was right — they had both trudged through hell just to make it to that very morning together, hadn’t they? Faust’s trophy was a back full of scars. Luka’s was a drawer full of pill bottles. It was difficult to liken his own traumatic experiences to Faust’s – especially when the other’s past was still largely a mystery to him – but there was comfort in knowing they could relate to each other on a basic level. That they…weren’t alone. Maybe all the trouble up until then was worth it just to share each other’s company. Of course, it was possible Faust didn’t feel the same way. But he didn’t need to feel the same way. It was enough that he was there.

Luka sighed and turned to Faust again. Given his state from a few minutes ago, it was remarkable how calm he felt now. Maybe that, too, was thanks to his companion’s presence.

“Did you ever get your snack?” he asked softly.

“No,” Faust huffed with a sharp thrash of his tail. After a pause, the small imp folded his arms and turned his pouting face away, adding with a grumble, “I can’t exactly get to the kitchen in just a few steps like you can.”

Cute, Luka cooed inwardly. It was a thought that he would verbalize on any other day just to watch the resulting adorable tantrum, but for now he figured he’d put Faust through enough.

“Well then, would you allow me to make a nice breakfast as an apology for earlier? I think there’s enough pancake mix left for one more serving.”

The other’s scowl dissipated instantly, clearly more interested in food than maintaining appearances. “Hell yes! Apology accepted! Put some whipped cream on top and it’s apology double accepted!”

Luka laughed warmly and, after brushing away the last of the moisture that clung to his cheeks, gently extended a hand for Faust to climb onto willingly. Despite him being the one to prompt the action, though, he faltered when his smaller counterpart did just that. Even though he’d been forgiven, this simple act of trust didn’t feel earned. It was only a moment ago that he’d hurt Faust, after all. What right did he have to hold him now?

Seemingly picking up on Luka’s uncertainty (or just becoming impatient after being promised pancakes), Faust craned his neck to shoot an inquisitive glare upwards. “What?” he demanded.

“Aren’t you… I don’t know, a bit too trusting of me right now?” the brunette asked, unable to meet the other’s eyes. “Are you not even the least bit afraid that it might happen again?”

Faust scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’ll happen again, idiot.”

Well, Luka hadn’t been sure as to what sort of answer he expected, but it certainly was not that.

“It might not be today or tomorrow, but sure, yeah, it’ll come back. Stuff like that doesn’t disappear overnight. But what kind of demon would I be if I was afraid of one measly human?” he pointed out, flashing a toothy smirk. “I trust you, Luka. And besides, I’ll always be around to knock some sense into you.”

Had Luka not spent all his tears earlier, he was certain there would be some welling in his eyes right then. He gave an earnest smile, a quiet chuckle, and asked, “So singing cringey pop music is your definition of knocking sense into someone?”

“It’s not cringey. You’re just a hardass.”

How fortunate Luka felt now to have woken up. Because truly, how could there be any reality kinder than this one he shared with Faust?

As they walked, Luka hummed a few notes between the pauses of their aimless chattering, before eventually groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “You got that stupid song stuck in my head.”

“Heh heh! You’re welcome.”

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 12 days

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my mom thought I was suicidal in my early teens because neither of us knew what intrusive thoughts were until I was in high school 😭

#girl it was just my brain: ''woohoo stab urself with those scissors'' me: WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN #we only worked this out today ajdkfjskn I didn't realize she thought that RIP #tw intrusive thoughts #tw suicide #not really but a mention

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van1llam1lkk · 7 months

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Little Lamb

[ sfw | TW ; Size difference, Erisa isn't a human, Sexual undertones, Descriptions of Violence, Power Imbalance, Cult implications, Brief mention of terrorism, general Yandere content]

Double post today cause I forgot to post yesterday

Female Yandere x GN reader

If Erisa were to be honest, she didn’t have a clue what humans were on about. With their constant talk and inconsistent morals— They just seemed so strange and confusing.

And so it just frustrates her when she has to deal with one, maybe if she were in their shoes their attitude towards her would make more sense. As she gets the sense that maybe not everyone is used to seeing a 12' giant adorned with four arms.

But that reason did little to ease her annoyance, not only were you people inconsistent, annoying, and chatty. But you were so unreasonably easy to persuade. In most cases, she didn't even have to do much, as her 'lovely' followers would willingly commit terrorism without the promises of wealth, motivated purely by the want to be acknowledged by their goddess.

So when she first met you, all wide-eyed and nervous, unsure if you should be grateful to be in her presence or scared — Like the many followers before you. She expected to be anything but infatuated with you. Finding your discomfort around her cute in a strange sense, like a sweet, little lamb.

So when you tried applying your insignificant little Human values onto her, a being who had literally witnessed the American Revolution she couldn't help but snicker.

Really, it wasn’t her fault that she found such a small being like yourself absurdly cute. So fragile and tiny that it would take practically no effort for her to hold you down, despite your constant struggles and cries.

Of course, She'd never do anything against your will— unless she wanted to, But that's gotta count for something!

The urge within her was undeniable—a longing to cradle your fragile being against her cool, divine skin, sheltered beneath the folds of her Yukata, where none but her hands could touch you. And the fact that you were unaware of her thoughts, both violent and provocative ones and the great amount of effort she puts in so she doesn't act on them drove her crazy. She felt more like a dog in heat than a divine being when it came to you.

She tilts her head in response as you talked about your day, her attention being feigned as she wasn't paying attention to a single word you were saying. Your hands work behind your back to tie the apron neatly around your waist, You were making something — A tiramisu if she remembered correctly, she never understood why humans were so delicate that they needed a consistent supply food to survive.

When she first made an impression on your species it definitely confused her how often her followers needed to eat. Often complaining when there isn't enough food despite eating five hours ago.

As she watched you work, her eyes trailed down from your face to your hands. They were so fragile, so easily breakable. It would be so easy to snap your fingers one by one, to see the look on your face as your pain muddled in with your rising fear.

She wanted to savor every inch of you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a memory of what once was. She could practically taste your fear from that one possibility, your heart racing faster and faster with each passing moment as human instinct pushed you to try to fight for your life.

But as much as she wanted to indulge in her fantasies, Erisa knew that she couldn't. Not yet, at least. It's been awhile since someone as pretty as you came into her grasp and she didn't want to so carelessly throw it away. And so she continued to sit there on the plush floor mats, listening to your meaningless chatter and enjoying the way your body moved as you worked.

Eventually, you finished your task and turned to face her, a smile on your face. Erisa returned it, though her mind was elsewhere. Setting the plate down onto the tray and taking your seat next to her she watches you eat with mild interest, absentmindedly nodding her head and agreeing with everything you were saying as you chatted.

Her gaze occasionally dropping towards your lips, a habit of hers she'll never truly understand. She wasn't sure if her way of releasing these pent-up thoughts was just by being a degenerate. Acting so filthy like the damned humans she herself detested, but the imagery of having you sitting atop her thigh— Whispering sweet nothings against your ears as large hands hold your waist steady, wasn't something she entirely hated the idea of.

Stretching out her arms — careful to not hit your head, she stands up, her second pair of arms dusting off her robe as she announced she'd be leaving to deal with some business.

It was a blatant lie, but you didn't need to know that. And as much as she doesn't wanna leave you, seeing the hint of disappointment in your eyes whenever she leaves you makes up for it. Doe eyes staring up at her with brows slightly furrowed in frustration at her insistence to work —If only you knew it was just an excuse to get away from you before she did something stupid. but despite your frustration you still with that sweet tone of yours bid her farewell.

She swears your an angel sent from the heavens themselves. A blessing only meant to be received by her own four hands.

And to think that you were wholly hers— Truly a testament.

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januscorner · 5 months

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The main problem with people using the term intrusive thoughts for thoughts that are just impulsive is that it further stigmatizes real intrusive thoughts. If you think intrusive thoughts are just wanting to bleach your hair then you’ll be horrified when someone mentions they get intrusive thoughts of pedophilia, because you’re under the impression that intrusive thoughts are something you kinda want to do.

#neurotypicals ruin fucking everything #intrusive thoughts #tw pedophila mention #neurodivergent #Janus’s Corner

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sobeksewerrat · 5 months

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Okay my only problem with Plargos fics is that they are all too fluffy (or too smutty but we don't fuck with that here pun intended haha asexual moment you can enjoy smut btw I just don't)

Like, Angst does exist and I EAT THOSE HURT/COMFORT FICS UP but I NEED more fucked up fanfics. Like, whenever any of them explore how insane both Mr. Plant and Argos are, it is usually just murder.

No, I NEED to see Argos' stalker thing be explored and I fucking need more fanfiction yo portray them as this happy very messed up couple that logistically shouldn't be together and should be terrible for each other but just aren't, you get what I mean?!?

The only fic that came close was a V-day one-shot I read a while ago but Mr. Plant still felt a wee bit ooc but WHATEVER

Idk man I am kinda tired atm and just spitting words out onto my phone I might do this in my own fic but like I can only write characters having the worst intrusive thoughts and compulsions I am physically incapable of writing anything else unless it is a crackfic or I am reallllyyyy forcing myself

#twomp #the world of mr plant #brainingsewer #sobek rants #plargos #eye love you #👁🌱#tw murder mention #tw stalking mention #tw intrusive thoughts mention #tw compulsions mention

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empyrangel · 10 months

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One thing that I see people never take into account when they whine about how everyone is supposed to have kids is that not everyone can be a parent. The more I think about it the more I’m sure I’d be an abusive parent if I had kids.

Misophonia + aspd + bpd + more is not a good combination for raising kids. If the circumstances are bad enough I tend to snap on people who aggravate me, especially if it’s repetitive. Both verbally and physically. With most people these impulses and violent intrusive thoughts are able to be controlled. But I absolutely do not have the patience to put up with a child’s bullshit. They keep doing bad behavior over and over and can’t be reasoned with because they don’t know better. I’m not made to handle that kind of thing. I know I’d hurt them, as much as I’d try not too. In addition to being terrible life for the child, I’d have to live with the guilt of whatever I did to them even when it was caused by my disorders.

What good could possibly come of that? Why should I subject myself and another living being to that?

#childfree #bpd #aspd #misophonia #borderline personality disorder #antisocial personality disorder #intrusive thoughts #actually borderline #actually antisocial #actually misophonic #cluster b #cluster b personality disorder #tw child abuse #child abuse mention

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viktheviking1 · 5 days

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The scariest people are never the ones who immediately creep you out. They are the ones who are expert at seeming trustworthy. You may already know someone like this, and not realize it yet.

Be it on the Internet or in real life, it is important to be cautious around anyone who starts suggesting things you aren't comfortable with or asking for information that is none of their business.

Things no one taught you about the Internet!

Starting with minors (17 and under in the US)

DON'T POST YOUR AGE! Or age rage. Or birth year. Do not write 'minor' in your bio. This is probably the most common and most dangerous mistake! You will be actively targeted.

Don't pretend you're an adult!!! If a creep sees that you wrote 18 or older but act like a minor, they will do all the same tricks to become your friend, and know they have a legal loophole because they can always claim they didn't know! This is almost more dangerous than just saying "I'm a kid, come hurt me"

Instead just don't say anything! Don't post it anywhere, and don't add it to your bio. If someone asks you for your age, just block them.

Don't share your name or nickname! Even if you don't share your last name, they can pick up enough details about you over time that even a first name is enough to find you.

Instead, use a totally different name! Something like Eli_Bloodsucker is way more fun, just don't use it if your real name or even a real life nickname is Eli, Eliza, Ellie, or anything else even remotely similar!

Don't talk to anyone directly! Be it in comments or asks or in direct messages, they're all dangerous. It doesn't matter if they say they are a minor or an adult. If you can't see their face, don't talk to them. If you find a real life friend you didn't know had an account, don't talk to them. That might not be your friend. You can text your friend directly or talk to them in real life about it later.

Instead, just spread positivity purely form likes and reblogs. Pretend the comment and chat buttons are lava or acid or something. Don't touch them.

Don't share ANYTHING about where you live. Not even country. Don't tell someone about how it's always humid where you live or that there's a storm where you are.

Instead, you can share about weather vaguely later. For example, "a few months ago it snowed and I slipped on ice."

Don't, talk about an activity that would even hint that you are a minor. Don't talk about school, don't talk about piano lessons, don't talk about martial arts class, or football practice. Don't mention growing out of your clothes. Don't mention how your mom grounded you. Don't talk about your little brother barging into your room.

Instead, before posting any stories from your real life, ask yourself if this could also easily apply to someone in their 20s living with roommates instead of family members and working a full-time job. If the answer is yes, then post it, if not, don't. (Good example: I burnt my eggs but I didn't want to waste it so I still ate it. Bad example: My dad made me eggs this morning even though I hate them, and made me eat them.)

Don't post or share pictures or videos of yourself online. Someone can either use it to find you or steal them to lure your friends or other people your age into trusting them.

Instead, find a picture of a duck with a mustache online, and make that you're profile picture. Find a map of Australia and post that as your "outfit check". Way more fun.

Do not trust the person who reblogged this. Do not trust the original poster. Creeps will sometimes post about Internet safety as part of their plan to make you trust them.

So how can you tell who to trust, and who not to? You can't! That's the Internet. Better to play it safe than to risk your actual life over a post or a trend

Adult Internet safety:

Idk, it's your life. You know the consequences you might face. Make your own damn decisions. If your dad can't tell you what to do, then I sure can't.

Oh, and don't interact with people you know, or think, are kids. There is help available for those who are tempted to do this. Don't go down that path. There are resources, there are other ways. Having thoughts isn't a crime, acting on them is. PLEASE talk to a licensed professional.

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