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cheeseburgersinparadise · 3 days

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Why is death feederism ok? It is objectively self harm, as one is doing something that will result in them hurting themselves and eventually dying (as fetishized). I just can’t understand it… I am someone in this space that likes being stuffed and full, and doesn’t mind a little biy of wg… but I just don’t understand why gaining until death is encouraged so much when it’s so extreme and life ruining.

Like if there was a feeder and feedee couple that were into it… what would happen if the feeder had issues and couldn’t help the feedee that is reliant on their feeder? What happens if they break up and the feedee is dependent enough where they need family or something to help?? I mean it’s just… they could literally die if they were so dependent and forced to live on their own.. encouraging people to ruin their lives because it makes their private part excited is encouraging self harm.

This is my opinion and I seriously want to know what you have to say… I brought this up to someone else and their response was to block me and say “I think death feeding women think more critically about the fetish🤔” without response. And just so you know this isn’t fatphobic, i never once said I find fat people gross or anything, I just find the idea of fetishizing self harm gross. It’s fetishizing being disabled and or dead.

TW for death feedism, kink talk, self harm/suicide

so general disclaimer - I am not a death feedist and so I don’t know that I’m a good representative to speak on this topic but I’ll share some brief thoughts.

I think it’s okay to look at extreme fetishes and feel uncomfortable with them, so I’m not going to try and tell you that you can’t feel the way you do. I was very critical of people who practiced this fetish in ways I personally didn’t like and this community helped me realize it’s not my business to do that. There is no moral superiority in kink.

The thing is though - in order to be sex positive and an ally to our fellow feedists (yes, even the ones we disagree with or don’t like how they practice the fetish) we have to respect their bodily autonomy and allow them to make whatever decisions they think is best for them. It’s not our job nor our place to tell folks what they can and can’t do.

I would maybe agree that it’s a slippery slope and in a very extreme case, you could argue that this line of thinking would allow us to excuse a suicide fetish, for example (unsure if that’s a real thing). But there ARE disability fetishes and a fetish isn’t inherently bad as long as there are informed consenting parties and you are practicing RACK.

I don’t know if that line of thinking is even worth arguing because it could only serve to slip the other way up the slope back to overt purity culture. I want to validate your thoughts and questions because its important to critically analyze things and i want to believe you are coming from a place of good faith (and I have it in me to try and discuss this).

Regarding the statement of “death feedists think more critically about the fetish” could be true, as realizing you’re a death feedist DOES require reflection and understanding of yourself and of fatphobia in general. I haven’t had at length discussions with folks about this but the death feedists on my dash that post about fat lib seem to know their shit.

At the end of the day, why death feedists enjoy that aspect of the fetish is not for me to debate with or without them present. It’s not for me to tell them what they can and can’t do with their bodies. That aspect of the fetish isn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to tell others what they should get off to. I also think death feedists are a smaller portion of the community and it’s easy to block the tags they use if you don’t want to see their content. I know a few death feedists and I like them (at least their online persona) and they are probably more equipped to discuss this if they want to. So please feel free to add some comments if you’d like, death feedist friends.

My advice is practice radical acceptance. It feels uncomfortable but I think ultimately it makes you a better person when dealing with things you think are weird or gross or bad.

#chzburger answers #death feedism #death feedist #tw suicide

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dunmeshistash · 3 days

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So the ancients used blood magic to summon the mana magic and then it swallowed that desire and became conscious? I think?

No, mana just seeped into their world naturally, the two dimensions seem to be divided by a fine mesh rather than something solid? since mana naturally occurs in the dungeon meshi world outside dungeons (in dungeons from what I understand there are "holes" in certain parts were this connection can be used to utilize the infinite mana for stronger magic)

Chapter 87 - Winged Lion II

As you can see it already knew hunger and craved desires before it met a human. Human's with their complex desires just turned the demon into a more complex being. Blood magic isn't a thing in dungeon meshi (nor is the "dark magic") what they call dark magic is ancient magic. Which is basically utilizing this "infinite mana" dimension to make basically infinitely stronger magic possible. Such as Falin's resurrection.

The danger of using ancient magic is that its intrinsically connected to the demon, and the demon is dangerous.

#dungeon meshi spoilers #ask #optimisticdogcollector5 #demon #winged lion #the winged lion #ancient civilizations #tw suicide #cw suicide

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borderline-culture-is · 2 days

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bpd culture is PLEASE just give me ONE reason why i shouldn't kill myself, i don't want to keep doing this every single day for the rest of my life. they told me it gets better eventually but it never does, please i just want it to end.

#borderline culture is #bpd #borderline personality disorder #bpd culture is #bpd culture #bpd safe #actually borderline #actually bpd #tw suicide #cw suicide

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visceravalentines · 2 days

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threw this little blurb together based on a conversation with @curlytemple about the possibility that Benson meant to kill everyone at Burgersx3 including himself and uh......read at your own fucking risk, man.

tw graphic depiction of homicide, suicide, and animal death. reference to past child abuse. dead dove, do not eat.

in his dreams, they all die.

it plays out pretty much the same at first. he hits Chris in the gut, again, on purpose, again. he can still hear his old man saying "a gut shot's a helluva way to go, kid." sometimes, in the dream, he pulls the trigger again for the mercy kill. sometimes he doesn't.

Hardy's faster in his mind. makes it a little closer to the phone every time, but he gets him. he always gets him, and he always takes half the office down with him, papers and cups and pens and shit all over the floor.

it's funny, when it happened for real, he didn't hear Jess screaming until he was looking right at her, and then it was all he could fucking hear, all he could fucking think about, and she wouldn't fucking stop, and he tried to get her to stop, but what're you gonna do? what's he supposed to do? it's the same in the dream. she isn't screaming until he turns around and then she is and she always was.

he never sees it hit her. the camera of his mind always shifts angles. there's probably something to that but he can't think what and he doesn't really care. all he knows is, the sound her body makes when it hits the ground makes him think of when Ma would sit up late at the table and he'd know it meant the fucker was back in town, and he'd excuse himself to his room and out the window for the evening. easier for everyone that way.

that's all pretty much standard. it's the next part that's weird.

he feels the gun in his hand, hears the break and the hollow plastic clatter of spent shells on the linoleum. he just fucking mopped. he reaches in his pocket for the last two rounds.

once, he looked down and saw something written on one of them in permanent marker or some shit. a B or an R or something. but everybody knows you can't read in dreams, and it only happened the once as far as he can remember.

he walks slow, real slow, dream slow, around the tables until he's facing him head-on. and he's high-def every time. wet cheeks, trembling lips, and those fucking eyes, blue in a way that can't be real. lashes long like a girl's. looking at him with the blind fear of a baby animal too fresh-born to understand but with enough sense to know it's fucking over. enough instinct screaming in the blood to stay still, stay still, don't breathe, stay still.

stay still and let it happen.

stay still until it's over.

don't breathe or you'll never get the fucking smell out of your nostrils.

he tastes bile in his mouth when he pulls the trigger.

he never runs. never even tries. he hits him in the chest, dead center, every time. and he crumples like a beer can under a boot. goes to the ground with this soft, feathery gasp that echoes in his brain. it makes him sick.

he steps forward, stands over him. it takes him way too long to die, way too fucking long. the mess of his chest is seven shades of red. sometimes he can see his heartbeat in the swell and collapse of gore, and that's how he knows he's dreaming. because no man on earth takes a blast of buckshot to the ticker and keeps ticking.

it reminds of the time he hit a rabbit doing 95 on the canal road, vision so blurred he could barely see past the hood of the car. how he slammed on the brakes, skidded to the shoulder, and through the cloud of dust he watched the thing heave and die in the scarlet of his taillights, and he gripped the wheel so hard his fingers hurt the next day and sobbed until his voice went hoarse.

he never cries, in the dreams. never feels regret. never feels much of anything.

he stands and waits. watches the blood bubble helplessly on his lips, the tears coming down in sheets from those eyes. those fucking eyes. looking back at him glazed-over and heavy with an apology. more remorse in those eyes than he's ever felt for anything in his life. and it hollows him out. cleans him right out like a carcass strung up in the yard. empty in the ribs. blood all over the ground.

some of it oughta be his, right?

so he flips the gun, and from the floor he watches him do it, and the funny thing about dreams is that he sees it from both angles at the same time, from his own perspective and from the ground looking up with the light growing cold and faint around the edges.

he nestles the muzzle snug under his chin, back against his throat. you gotta aim it right or you'll miss the brain, blow off your face, and then you'll really wish you were dead. good thing he can see it from both angles. make sure he gets it right the first time.

he's not scared, before he pulls the trigger. for one goddamn glorious moment, he's not scared of anything.

it all goes red when the gun goes off, the red of taillights in the dark, and he never wakes up with the bang. no, he wakes up one...two...three seconds after with every muscle clenched and his tongue clamped between his teeth. and he stares up into the black and waits for it to come back to him. how it really happened. where he is. who he is.

what he's done and what he hasn't.

it's only once he's sure of things that he seeks him out, sends a hand roving through the sheets until it meets the angle of a hip or an elbow. sometimes that's enough. sometimes he won't allow himself more.

sometimes he will. sometimes he needs to. sometimes he rolls to the side and pulls him in under his arm like a teddy bear, shoves his face into the bone of his shoulder and pretends to sleep until the sun comes up.

either way, he spends the rest of the night trying to forget. trying to forget the sound, the screams of a girl or a boy or a rabbit. the smell of blood and gunpowder. the heat of steel against his throat.

the feeling of feeling nothing, nothing at all, when he looks into those eyes, blue in a way that can't be real.

#yikes #wigged myself out a little with this one ngl #the passenger #tw suicide

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 days

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Ruby: You’re an enemy in an RPG. What do you drop upon being killed?

Jaune: A thank you note.

#rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #tw suicide

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romanceclub-confessionss · 3 days

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Confession:

"Why is everyone in GoE either ill, depressed, or suicidal? Is the writer okay?"

#romance club #rc #rc garden of eden #rc goe #anti garden of eden #writer confession #tw suicide #ns*w

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brucewaynehater101 · 12 hours

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kys cunt

TW: suicide, death

Alright. Imma address comments like these once, and then I'll block any more that I get.

I hope you're not sending this to other accounts when you don't know their struggles with mental health. I hope you realize how fucking dangerous that shit is and that a message like this can cause someone to take that final step they were holding back from.

I'm not sure what argument would cause this to stick in your brain.

Morally, that's a fucked up thing to do. Causing someone to kill themselves is messed up. Because that's what that message is. You're telling someone, a stranger, to off themselves. If you keep doing this shit, someday someone will.

I don't think you care about how this will affect other people. You probably don't wonder who would find their body. Would it be their parents? Their younger siblings? Their children? You probably don't think about how every single person in that individual's life will blame themselves. They will beg for any other outcome but death. They will, until they themselves die, question what they could've done differently. What they did wrong or what they didn't do enough of.

If you're at the stage where you are sending this message without caring about the repercussions, then I'll assume you only care about how this will affect you.

Their death would be on your hands forever. You can't wash that shit off. You can scrub until your hands are raw and they crack and bleed, but you will always be stained with the death that you forced. You can ignore it and pretend that their ghost doesn't haunt you until your last dying breath. You can repent to a grave that can't hear you.

No matter what you do, that mistake will always be with you. There is no escape.

#tw suicide #i honestly don't care about reasonings but don't tell someone to die if you're not prepared for that outcome #on other notes stay safe everyone and know that someone does love and care about you #someone will be sad if you die and you deserve to be happy #tw death #i apologize for how dark this is but i will not show mercy to these types of comments #let me know if there needs to be more tw

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trimalchiooframshackle · 14 hours

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Ever wonder how in the hell Jay's death goes? well do I HAVE A STORY FOR YOOUUUU!!! INTRODUCING HIS NEW CAUSE OF DEATH WOAH!!!! !

TW: Alcohol abuse, Drug abuse, suicide/suicidal tendencies, self harm, overdose mention, gore, ???

Quick note?? All of this is canon, yes he dies like this ;P LOLZIES!!!!! ALso if its all over the place i apologize i am fighting a moth while writing this /srs kinda curious to know how anyone reacts to it, so... if you wanna put that down or make a post go for it, honestly im kinda considering having this be my closing post but idk yet lol </3

The sound of a gunshot can never be heard over crowds laughing and music blasting. Fireworks in the air, water from the pool splashing... The loud BANG deaf to everyone's ears. How could we know that? The only way it was learned was finding the body of Mr. Jay Gatz. In the highest point of his manor, overlooking the crowd below...

Let's start from square one.

Jay felt... Unwanted. Alone, if you will. As a man who's built himself and his business up only for the sake of overthrowing others, he wasn't the most enjoyed man around. Normally he would've handled this by now. The dread, the self pity, everything he had thought about himself was always kept inside. Why not now? Standing alone, pathetic... In the office he had to himself. Bookcases covering the walls of obscure novels that he hasn't even read, a desk holding messy stacks of various papers, making him feel even worse about himself. A never ending ringing phone before he cut it, the gusts of wind blowing from the outside rustling against the curtains behind him. What a pitiful life.

An outsider. That's all he was, wasn't he? Standing up on that balcony of his, absent to anyones attention besides the solemn glow of the moon above him, and even that was leaving him soon. The fireworks lit up the mansion, the people below, the water, and the champagne bottles crashing and being tossed around to be used. He lit a cigarette, holding it for just a moment then he took a drag.

...After another drag, and another, and another... He put out the cigarette... On his own arm. He winced at the burning feeling against his skin, but another scar wouldn't hurt... Right? Scars were littered all over his body anyway, just another part of him to be ruined. He lit another cigarette then walked inside to grab a bottle of vodka from his own personal storage of alcohol. Never touched unless he was feeling more pathetic than other nights.

Ha, maybe this time he can drink himself to death. Or maybe Perkins will call the ambulance again. Jay hoped to whatever god there was above he wouldn't survive this time. His shaky hands moved to the bottle, bringing it up to his lips before pausing. A week of sobriety.

...He can restart another day. Or in another life, perhaps.

He took a drink. The burn of the alcohol going down his throat being a feeling of discomfort but satisfaction was one that he had somehow managed to miss. Gatz went back out to the balcony, drinking away his sorrows before he couldn't even find himself having any emotion anymore. The rich man could barely hear the knocks at the door, let alone the sound of a man calling for his name.

Soon enough, the door opened unbeknownst to Jay. The only thing that managed to get his attention was a quiet voice coming from the darkened room, lit by only one light. But now... There was another. Then another light on as the person flicked on the light switches. ...Perkins.

➳ ❜ Ah, Jay! I was worried about you, sir! Are you doing alright up here? It's quite... Quiet up here. ❛

No response. Jay turned back to stare into nothing.

➳ ❜ Oh, I see... Maybe you should sit down, I can grab you some tea and- ...Well, maybe not any medicine, I don't want to... Let that happen again. ❛

It wasn't needed to be discussed anymore, it was obvious Perkins was referring to the prior... Attempts Jay had made. In an attempt, Perkins had tried his best to hide anything that Jay could use to end things. As of now, it was working. With a slow approach, Perkins had walked over to Jay. Placing down the lantern he held with a small blow to put it out, he found himself standing next to his boss. Or, rather, his semi-adopted son.

The silence felt like a million years. Perkins, thinking of how to approach this properly, feeling the fatherly need to sit there and just be someone for Jay to lean on, but he knew it wasn't a night for that. All he knew is that he could NEVER leave Jay alone in a state like this. He heard a small mutter of a sob coming from next to him.

╰┈➤ ❜ ...Perkins... Can we go inside? ❛

➳ ❜ Of course my boy. ❛

Jay tiredly swung his arm around Perkins shoulders as he got guided back into the office, letting the shorter man take the vodka from his bruised and shaky hand. Within the next minute or so, he found himself sitting in the rather comfortable office chair he had right infront of his desk. Almost immediately he put his arms down on the desk and put his head down on them, shielding his face in some form of fear of what'll happen next.

➳ ❜ Jay- ❛

╰┈➤ ❜ You can leave now Perkins. ...I'm fine on my own. ❛

➳ ❜ I'm worried, my boy. I can't just leave you like this. Not because it's my job but it's because I care- ❛

Jay's body tensed. Perkins froze as he could practically feel the cold emotion that came from the man right next to him.

╰┈➤ ❜ You don't have to lie to me, Perkins. ❛

Silence. Jay thought he had left, but he hadn't. When Jay lifted up his head he saw Perkins sitting quietly next to him. ...Looks like he's here for a while.

╰┈➤ ❜ ...Am I gonna be left alone forever, Perkins? ❛

➳ ❜ Oh- of course not! You have plenty of people who would love to be around you - ❛

╰┈➤ ❜ ...Then why has everyone left me? ...Everyone except you. I can't keep being alone like this. ❛

➳ ❜ I know, I know... And I'm not getting any younger... But trust me, I won't leave you all alone. You don't deserve that. ❛

╰┈➤ ❜ ... ❛

Jay stood up, then went to grab another bottle of vodka. Perkins got up to take the bottle, only for Jay to look down with a look he has only seen a few times. He was desperate for some form of numbing. ...Perkins sighed. He held up a single finger to signal he can only have one glass.

Jay agreed.

He got the glass and drank it quickly as if it were medicine. And it has been his medicine. Ever since he was younger, more vulnerable. Manipulated, oblivious, it's always been his escape.

╰┈➤ ❜ ...If I were to give you the rest of my wealth, would you let me die? ❛

Silence. Shock. A beat went by.

➳ ❜ Of course not. I wouldn't let you die at all. ❛

╰┈➤ ❜ Oh. ❛

Jay was quiet again. He exhaled and took a drag of the cigarette he had lit earlier. Blowing it out, he looked to the floor with some thought. Jay then opened a drawer in the desk, rummaging around then he let a metal item clatter into the desk.

A gun.

Perkins froze. He took a step forward and Jay put his hand on the gun. Not as a warning to Perkins, but to himself. The blond male slowly picked it up and showed that it was loaded.

╰┈➤ ❜ I was told I needed therapy. You know, I think I’m too far gone. What’s the point of it if im just a lost cause? I’ve been crying and telling too many people my sob story. At this point this… This is better. ❛

➳ ❜ No you’re not too far gone, Jay. …Put down the gun, okay? We can talk about this- ❛

The now slowly breaking millionaire then stood up sharply, stepping back. He took the gun along with him. Then… He snapped. Immediately bursting into tears, he found himself breaking every pushing second. His hands shaking more, he held the gun up to his own head.

╰┈➤ ❜ Talk about what, Perkins? How long have you tried to help me? I’ve been nothing but a waste of time, and god… God I BET if I just- if I just SHOT myself RIGHT NOW, NOBODY OUT THERE WILL HEAR OR CARE, RIGHT?! Who’d go to my funeral? You? Who else? Huh? ❛

Silence. Perkins simply walked over and hugged Jay, catching him off guard. Jays body tensed up again, trying to find a way to keep his composure but failing miserably. The gun slightly moved away from his head, then it sharply went back.

One last exhale, and one last sentence.

╰┈➤ ❜ If you want me to live another day, I need you to start running. Get to the nearest phone. ❛

God, why was he doing this? Why was he trying to help himself? He knew he’d die by then. Somehow, Perkins listened and immediately rushed to the nearest phone only to see Jay had cut the line, then opened the door to go outside. Jay stared.

The door closed, leaving Jay alone.

…Then the gun went off.

Silence. Darkness. Not a feeling. Just… emptiness.

When the paramedics got there Jay was already as dead as can be as he laid in Perkins arms. He had staged it as a murder, writing to Perkins in a final note to never specify it was suicide, but say it was homicide. The people wouldn’t care how he died.

The sight was grim. His only butler making an effort to help, holding him up as if he were still going to live. It was a desperate attempt, really, like a father begging to bring his son back from the dead. The once lively millionaire deceased, his body tense and the blood and brain matter pooling from his head onto the fur rug he had died on. His eyes were still open, only this time they were a monotone and distant blue with less saturation than ever. His skin was pale, suit tattered most likely from the fall. The cigarette lay on his hand, slowly burning at the skin. As he lay there, people were crowded around. Some were investigators, others were people who simply wanted to see. Others taking photos to post on the papers as soon as possible.

…And now Perkins was left to handle the rest of the work Jay had set up.

#|🥂| ~ 𝑮𝑨𝑻𝒁 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑬!#ramshackle jay #ramshackle oc blog #tw gore #tw suicide #tw blood #tw uhhh sad #oh my fuckin god he fuckin dead!!!!#tw pill mention #tw od mention

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