Apr 29, 2023
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SO IT TURNS OUT THAT NONE OF THE NILS CAN DO PIZZA YET. I TOOK OVER TO HELP FINISH THE FOOD. ALSO YES HI HELLO, I AM PART OF THIS TOO. SOMEBODY WILL PROBALY UPDATE THE PINNED LIST OF MEMBERS EVENTUALLY BUT IT'S NOT GONNA BE ME.
-HABIT
theres a tiktok thing going around about littles and consent. thoughts?
That's a child alter. No. This... This shouldn't even be a question, what the fuck.
As a general rule, don't listen to tik-tok, guys. It's formatting is entirely too restrictive to get proper nuance or provide proper sourcing, which leads to the spread of misinformation entirely too easily.
A denial of childishness/expectation of maturity in early life is a very successful way to cause age regression and childlike behaviors in later life.
That is to say, we've been living off of cookie crisp, cinnamon toast crunch, choccy milk, and spagetti-o's for like a week.
We never got those things before.
Hoooooo boy the alter list needs updating so bad but every time it's edited we have to redo the link in the bio which is such a bitch but uh we're at like 25-26ish now not 16 send help----
-Nillethar
the introduction post says asmo is an animal... what kind is he? can we see a reference image/drawing you all made?
Asmo - full name Asmodeus - is a dog, and we’re not sure if he’s either a Cane Corso, or some other kind of Pit mix.
This is his favorite image of himself, because he is cuddling Nil (who rarely ever looks this peaceful unless they are sleeping). You may recognize this image from Nil’s private blog, @nil-the-glitch, if you are a follower of theirs as well.
Despite his size, he’s very gentle and lovable. He seems to serve as essentially a therapy animal, mostly for Nil, but will assist and comfort others as well if needed. He also seems to greatly enjoy carrying around baskets full of goodies to whoever he thinks needs cheering up, and it is quite effective - there’s nothing quite like seeing a bouncy dog trotting up to you with a basket of cookies swaying from his jaws, tail in a frenzy.
We were eating gummies in-body just now, and it reminded us of this fun little story from a while ago, which we agreed would be fun to share with those of you who are here. Now, to start this off, you must remember that out-of-body, Nil has very unusual teeth. They often describe it as being “a mouth full of razor blades/scalpel blades”. These are very, very pointy teeth. Anyhow, one day within the headspace, Nil decided they would attempt to eat gummy bears. They’ve always had a sweet tooth, and they thought the bright colors looked fun. Most of us... Already knew where this would lead, and tried to convince them to not make the attempt. Nil, however, had other ideas on the matter. They are quite stubborn. So, they get their hands on some gummy bears, and a few minutes go by - 15 or so - before they come wandering over to the rest of us again, with defeat and dejection written all over their face. Minerva, being the one to never mince words or take any shit, got right to the point by asking Nil how many they actually managed to swallow. And so came the begrudging “... Thicsh...” (6), and the reveal of several dismembered gummy bears impaled on mandibular spears of bone, never having made it to their final resting place of Nil’s insatiable stomach. We had a good laugh over their colorful-yet-morbid dental veneers of sugar, while they leveled a glare and delivered a scathing “Thut up and get me a thooth pick.” And so ends the tale of why Nil is now banned from eating anything gummy.
I'm just going to make this a post unto itself. For those who don't want to see the content discussed, here's your warning for trauma-related issues.
What confuses me the most, is why anyone would think I or anybody else would want to pretend to be abused. Why anyone would think people would want to lie about being traumatized. Do you even know what that entails, when you say that?
It means I flinch hard enough to pull/strain muscles when there's a loud noise such as a door being slammed or someone hitting the wall. It means I get anxiety and panic attacks from the wrong tone of voice or from subtle behaviors. I will cry if someone washes a dish at me wrong. I will shut down if I think someone is raising a hand to me. I get the shakes so bad that I cannot hold a glass of water without spilling it if I hear in someones tone that they might be mad at me. Just a few days ago I had such bad anxiety that I was in tears because I felt guilty over not being able to finish a plate of food and had to ask if they'd be mad at me for not finishing it. I can't wash dishes without blasting music into my ears at the highest volume because the sound of them clanking together mentally sends me right back where I had escaped and makes me panicky. There's clothes I can't wear anymore because they still have the smell of that place ingrained in them. Sometimes I still smell or hear things from that place even if I have nothing from it around me and it reduces me into a shuddering, sobbing mess, and it's hell.
It's hell talking about this.
And I shouldn't have to defend that this is my reality, anyways. I shouldn't have to out my trauma and it's side-effects in this way to be taken seriously. I shouldn't have to make myself cry now, to prove a point. And nobody else should, either. But I know they have, because the mentality around this stuff is still full of stigma and denial. Nobody wants to accept that someone "like that" could be in their friends list or their neighborhood or even their family.
Because it's scary and hurtful to think about, isn't it. It's scary and hurtful to think it was happening right under your nose and you didn't know, didn't stop it. It's scary to think you might have any kind of connection to an abuser. It's scary to think about what kind of impact that might have on your own social image. I get it. It's terrifying to think it's real, for you. It's threatening your idea of the world.
But it's more terrifying to those of us who lived through it, ok? And denying the abused any chance of being believed, that's hurtful too. It's silencing. Silencing out of your own personal comfort, and I get it. If I wasn't a victim, I'd probably end up doing the same out of a defensive reflex. I get that for those who had no part of it, it's nearly an instinct, to push it away and have no involvement with it even after the fact.
But me, and the rest of us survivors, we need you ok? We need support, because some of us don’t survive. Please don't ever push away someone who tells you they were hurt. They're asking for help, when they tell you, and it takes so so SO much effort and courage to open up about this kind of stuff. I have not nearly gone into everything yet, and if you know someone who's opening up to you, they probably haven't said everything yet either. Because healing is a very long process. And I'm nowhere near done even though I've finally gotten far enough to be able to have the guts to denounce things thrown at me and stand up for my own damn self.
So when somebody tells you about their abuse and trauma... Please don't make them have to explain themselves like I did here. Don't push them away, don't tell them or even insinuate that it wasn't real, because that hurts almost as much as the trauma itself did. Offer your support, a shoulder to cry on and a pack of tissues. Maybe chocolate. That's all you have to do, you usually don't even have to say anything, just let them talk and listen and be there for them.
This was highly upsetting for me to make, and relive, but I still hope it can raise awareness and if it can change even one persons outlook on abuse survivors and the treatment of trauma, then it'll be worth it. Because I don't want anyone else to have to go through this anymore, and while this is painful, I know my pain can be the sword and shield that helps someone else in their darkest hour. When I speak out, I'm not just speaking out for me. I'm speaking out for everyone else who went through the same, who either can't or never got the chance to speak out themselves. I'm fighting for more than just me - I'm fighting for my brothers and sisters and siblings of neither or both who have shared my pain and tears, because in my mind, salted water is thicker than blood. And I well know the unholy refrain that's composed of silent sobs and muffled screams. We've sung it together.
We'll fight together, too. So please fight with us, not against us.