#As an abuse victim I feel so blindsided.

[pupperish]

#As an abuse victim I feel so blindsided. #I found comfort and was able to cope with my trauma by listening to his music and watching his streams. #I feel disgusted #what a piece of shit #I everyone drops him. #I cannot believe I spent 3 years of my life enjoying his content #Wilbur situation #<gonna be the catchall term for whenever I run a post about this ig

[filthyjanuary]

i've been talking about this with friends over discord but i really need to say it publicly that i think it is entirely unproductive to sift through years of old video footage to look for signs that wilbur was and is an abuser or run his statement through (very inaccurate) AI detectors to argue that a human didn't write it when it's just your average lawyered corpospeak

i think a lot of people, especially younger people in this fandom, feel blindsided and want to find some kind of secret damning evidence that was hiding in plain sight that they missed but that's just not how abuse works most of the time. abusers are people that can and often are perfectly pleasant to most people. there isn't some secret trick to detecting them around you. and while a lot of what we've seen can be recontextualized knowing what we know, it helps absolutely no one to work ourselves into a frenzy to pull out of context clips to paint a narrative of victimhood on every single person he's ever interacted with. there's stuff he's done on camera in the past that we can be uncomfortable with especially knowing what we know now but it is revisionist to act like the same acts people cooed over and called 'brotherly' 2 weeks ago are suddenly smoking guns of abuse.

wilbur is not some disney supervillain who is rotten down to his core he's a human person who definitely wrote or got his team to write his shitty apology and definitely manipulated the people around him but there isn't some film reel of his abuse that we can play or people can look to to say they somehow knew he was a bad person all along

we have actual stories from actual victims to uplift and focus on, we don't need to dig for more things and slap a victim label on people who have not come forward to do so themselves and if they do come forward we can support them then but for the love of god can we stop circulating clips of wilbur and tommy's staged antics or wilbur yelling during mcc

all my love to shelby shubble and everyone else who is affected by this man's actions and is now being exposed to some of the most infuriating discourse conceivable. and fuck that man sincerely.

#mcyt #wilbur soot #wilbur situation #ask to tag #idk lmk if theres some tag im missing here #**

[isa-ghost]

Can we please keep in mind that given what we know, there's a strong chance plenty of Wilbur's friends were blindsided by this, and could very well be grieving that someone so close to them turned out to be this horrific?

Given we KNOW Wilbur meticulously kept up a facade socially and publicly, there's a strong chance they had little to no idea he was that way unless they personally witnessed the behaviors. That's horrifying.

I personally know what it's like to have someone you talked to and hung out with near-daily for YEARS to turn out to be a disgusting, lying, fake and awful person. You feel betrayed, sick, angry, confused, devastated. You need time to emotionally process that. ESPECIALLY before doing something like making a public statement about "your stance" on the matter. Some of the people we know felt like family to Wilbur, genuinely, even despite all the jokes that got old so fast within the community. And they could've gone the whole time not knowing all this.

That's not something you get over instantly. That's not something you can think clearly through right away. Anyone demanding a nuanced and well-thought out statement rejecting and condemning Wilbur ASAP for their own satisfaction are stupid as hell. You don't care about the situation, you're fishing for internet points by being ready to pull the trigger on anyone who doesn't say something the moment you expect them to. You care more about Looking like you have humanity by attacking abusers and abuse apologists, instead of Actually having humanity in realizing this has a real impact on real people with real emotions.

They're fucking grieving. And we've seen from plenty of them who thought of him as a friend that Have said something already that they are also ANGRY.

Those who have yet to speak up are likely still processing their emotions. Or processing what they want to say. Or perhaps are even personally affected by the situation as victims of abuse themselves, and therefore NEED to step back before they say anything, if they say anything at all.

They could also be saying something where we can't see. They don't owe the public shit, anything they'd say wouldn't be for us. We aren't entitled to their thoughts or their explicit rejection of Wilbur. Which is Also why anyone demanding instant statements from anyone is a fucking moron. They don't need to "prove" to us that they don't support Wilbur anymore. That's not what anything to do with this situation is about. That's not what matters here.

What matters is they've personally given Shelby their support; which is 10x more meaningful given directly to her rather than in public where it's also largely to please anyone scrutinizing them. What matters is they've stopped engaging with Wilbur, removed his presence from their personal content (ex: Phil removed his point redemption audios that had Wilbur in them), etc. Actions speak louder than words.

Some of you are just fucking lazy and don't want to look deeper, you want convenient and perfectly crafted statements for your satisfaction and comfort right away.

TLDR: think fucking harder before you open your mouth about any cc's reaction to Wilbur or his statement. These people were friends with him (many are also friends with Shelby!), trusted him, etc. There's nuance to situations like these whether you like it or not, and ccs saying anything where you can see it at the exact moment you want them to is not something any of us are owed.

Fuck Wilbur. Fuck his garbage statement. But if you're more focused on hounding every cc who ever knew him publicly to cater to you for one reason or another the second you want them to, fuck you too.

#wilbur situation #discourse

[chaifootsteps]

As someone with a noncon fetish, I was repulsed by how Angel’s sexual abuse, assault, and trauma were handled in episode 4. It was heavily sexualized, yet we're supposed to believe that Vivziepop is handling all this in a “careful, serious” way, despite the blatantly obvious fact that she and Raphielle are sexualizing what Angel’s experiencing.

I don’t know if Vivziepop genuinely believes she’s exploring sexual trauma in a “respectful” way or if she’s too afraid of admitting she has a noncon fetish, but either way, she failed to explore this subject matter seriously. What makes this situation worse is that she didn’t warn her audience about the rape scenes at the beginning of the episode or before the series began, and unless you saw the leaks, you were completely blindsided by the sexual assault montage.

Some people, including SA victims, were triggered by the sexual abuse scenes of Angel, feeling extremely overwhelmed and distraught because of it. However, fans are only listening to the SA victims, who approve of the scenes because they despise criticism so much that they’ll invalidate or insult the SA victims’ trauma to defend Vivziepop.

All of this could’ve been prevented if Vivziepop properly warned her audience about the scenes of rape, abuse, and other dark subjects in her Hazbin Hotel. People still would’ve criticized her fetishization, but at least they would’ve known there was going to be triggering material in her show.

Exactly. If she'd had enough decency and empathy to say ahead of time, "Hey fandom, heads up, there's some potentially triggering stuff in episode four." Instead, she made sex jokes about it. Instead, she was responding to whether it had a trigger warning with "Um, I don't know, maybe, I guess..." and belittling survivors on Threads.

Of course, if she had any decency, she wouldn't have let the resident Angel Dust rape fetishist storyboard it and she definitely wouldn't have slipped multiple references to his fetish works into the episode.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #viv stuff #actual blog post #hazbin hotel critical

[wildpeachfarm]

I’m anon that wanted to share my Hannah opinion. Before I do, I wanna clarify I am a woman.

I think what she’s doing is all for her images. It’s known she’s doing her best to advocate for female presenting and more, which btw I find that amazing, and as a woman I believe she did a great job (unlike other ccs that claimed the same but did not really help). However I think here starts the issue. She’s so obsessed with this idea to be our advocate that she got extreme and would cut off people just to keep clean her images. It is very clean that this is what’s she doing: Dream team are now a problem for her image, so she cut them off, while no one cares about Punz (which is way worse) so she keep follows him. It’s very hypocrite and show that most likely she’s not even genuine. And the Sylvee thing proved that she’s not communicating and just follow what Twitter wants and be blindsided. I saw some people claiming that “oh it’s just her emotions” but idk, her actions seem kind of telling me something different.

I also believe those people decide to support other female ccs with no hesitation. Which btw, that’s not bad, I think is sweet and amazing! But it creates even a toxic culture of “women are always the victims, they’re always innocent and pure, whatever they say must be the truth” and this weird culture of “yeah women do not need to show proofs and you need to believe them 100%”. I believe this is pretty harmful, especially as a victim of a woman abuser that even lied to be a victim (I’m not saying this is case, but just this weird culture can protect women abusers and more).

I think this is even a problem with Tina and Sylvee. They’re trying to save their faces showing that “they care about the female ccs” while their actions and past actions are just hypocritical or very fake. Which again is more harmful for us.

I genuinely felt they were a good representation for us women, but now I feel completely disgusted by their actions and their immaturity.

wait i definitely answered these out of order anon I'm sorry 😭😭😭

You're completely valid and your input is appreciated <3

#ask #anon #anti-drummyache tag

[scarrletmoon]

it's izzy hands it's kylo ren it's billy from stranger things it's snape it's draco it's loki circa 2012-2014 it's a REPEATED PATTERN throughout all of fandom of an antagonistic white guy getting a devoted fanbase that is both disproportionate to his importance in the story and also misunderstands the white guy's role as an antagonist. they think their mean little guy is a misunderstood victim and they base their entire fandom experience around him. and then in season 2 ofmd went and redeemed izzy before killing him off to further ed's arc, something that is a solid choice from a technical writing standpoint but from a fandom perspective it built the izzy fans up into thinking they were right about how izzy has never been homophobic, izzy is a poor downtrodden abuse victim, and from day one izzy has been a protector and the only competent guy around and a loyal and dutiful first mate. and possibly the most significant part is that so many izzy fans have accidentally and unknowingly tricked themselves into thinking that izzy is a main character bc their fandom engagement revolves so heavily around izzy that they forgot the actual show itself doesn't, so they were completely blindsided by a death that has been foreshadowed since season one ("im not dying, not for that twat and not for you" and "only retirement we get is death" and the whole "plumb the depths, man" sequence where izzy was talking to stede through a death shroud ffs). and i want so bad to just ignore it but we literally got a queer romcom centered around an interracial couple and an incredibly diverse cast and an indigenous main character and a diverse writer's room and the season ended on a happy note and it's all about queer joy AND YET. soooooooo much of the post-season discussion has to center around the white side character!!! even in death izzy hands takes up a disproportionate amount of the fandom conversation and im exhausted. it's every fandom! every fucking time!! this isnt anything new this is the same time-honored fandom tradition of white man favoritism YET A-FUCKING-GAIN and im SO FUCKING TIRED OF IT!!!!!!!!!

(i get so scared when i turn on anon bc i’ve consistently gotten such shitty, cowardly messages through it but i’m glad this isn’t one of them lmao)

i know i’ve said this 374748 times but the last time i made the kylo ren/snape/white villain connection on twitter (i mean that’s on me, it’s twitter) i had people legit furious with me for calling them nazis which………..i literally never said

and i get the frustration. trust me, I GET IT. the white villain problem smashes right into white fragility and makes it almost impossible to talk about any of it. it means, like you said, that we’re talking about a fucking white side character in cast of amazing, nonwhite talent, because some people can’t handle confronting the fact that whiteness insulates them from the realities of racism, and that their ignorance and hostility makes them active participants in white supremacy

(and it’s really hard to explain this to people who’ve been taught that racism is when slurs and white klan hoods, because then they’ll say and do the most vile shit and CRY or fight you when you gently try to explain the racist shit they just did)

and because fandom is very queer as well as very white, we also have to contend with the kinds of white people who think that queerness somehow negates their whiteness. that they can’t express their privilege in contexts involving POC. that we’re making shit up to be victims and to minimize their pain on purpose. and time and time again, i have had my queerness erased by white people, so they feel comfortable ignoring criticism i only ever shared bc i was hoping for something better

i’ve said it again and again and again and AGAIN that it’s ESPECIALLY depressing seeing white people close ranks in ofmd fandom especially BECAUSE it has such a diverse cast and doesn’t shy away from discussing racism in all the ways it manifests. like, most of the racism in the show isn’t even subtle and y’all STILL elected to ignore it? do y’all not feel ANY shame about that?

and some of them don’t! bc they think we’re infiltrators. bc they’re only a few steps removed from “they will not replace us” as they see more POC try to join fannish spaces. and they’ll pretend they’re not trying to push us out bc they’re marginalized in other ways — deliberately ignoring the fact that they’re also crushing their fellow queer, disabled and marginalized community

so you’re tired? yeah. me the fuck too. we deserve so much better

#scarrlet answers

[dovkss]

hawks confronting reader for trying to hide their stockholm syndrome

word count: 957

warning: 18+; stockholm syndrome, emotional abuse, kidnapping, manhandling, suggestive, bratty! reader, possessiveness language, threatening, yandere themes

a/n: a lil sum to make up for lost timeee! ;(

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. As he had planned, your feelings for him had began to shift.

No longer were you fighting him, spitting at him, yelling at him. No longer were you being disobedient, pushing his face away when he tried to kiss you.

No longer were you being an ungrateful whore.

You couldn't help but feel attached to him. It was hard not to. You haven't had any contact with an actual human besides him for the past few months. And, boy, were they long.

You got used to seeing his face. His gorgeous face. You were now comfortable enough to caress the fluffy red feathers he would leave in your space on purpose.

After being locked up in the basement during the day, you began to actually look forward to when he came back to you from patrolling or whatever hero work he had to do for the day.

When that door opened and he stepped through it, you found yourself smiling or letting out a sigh of relief.

You were aware of what was happening to you. You had read about it online some years ago. Stockholm Syndrome was what it was called... you think. People who are victims of abuse will start to empathize with their abusers to cope with the trauma they faced.

Well, he never hit you. Nor did he force you to do anything you didn't want to.

That's not abuse, is it? Surely not, you were perfectly fine and able to take care of yourself.

He kidnapped you, yeah. But... he was nice to you. He fed you, washed you, kept you warm, and bought you your favorite things!

That's not abuse.

Takami also took note of your change of heart. You never knew when your gaze on him lingered a little longer than normal. Your smile now wasn't sarcastic or half-assed.

At first he thought you were up to something. Maybe you were creating a ploy to blindside him in an attempt to escape.

Like he’d let that happen. Of course not.

But knew he had you wrapped around his finger when you let his lips come in context with your neck without putting up a fight. You were doing so well for him.

Only problem was you not admitting it. That annoyed the hell out of him.

You couldn’t let him know that you were coming around, then he would be getting his way. But if he was keeping you safe, what would be the harm in that?

No harm at all. Just a hurt ego. If he knew he was getting his way, you’d never be able to live it down. That cocky bastard.

"You cozy?" He asked you, his tone light. You nodded as you sat on the opposite end of the warm couch. It was movie night tonight, it was his turn to pick the movie.

You both sat in silence for the first half hour of the movie. You could see in the corner of your eye him looking at you. You bit your lip nervously, only trying to focus on the movie.

"Ya wanna sit next to me?" His next question was simple enough. You looked over at him. You knew you'd never forgive yourself for this. You scooted over a bit, your shoulder almost touching his.

He reached over and pulled your head into his neck and grabbed your legs to dangle over his. You huffed but said nothing.

"You startin' to like me yet?" He rested his head on top of yours. You rolled your eyes, not saying anything in response.

"Not even a little?" He chuckled. "This 'playing hard to get' act is getting old, Babe."

"It's not an act. You're just playing 'hard to get rid of'."

In a flash, you felt his demeanor change. Suddenly, he's on you before you even know it. He slams you back into the cushion, bringing his face to your cheeks, squishing them together. “I hope you know that you're never, ever getting rid of me. Nobody is fucking coming for you either, so I suggest you come to terms with that now."

You wriggle under his firm grip, trying to pry him off of you. You found it to be useless as he brought your face closer to his, forcing you to make eye contact with his yellow ones.

You couldn't lie to yourself. Being this close to him made you feel some things. You panicked.

"M' sorry, please, let me go..." you begged, closing your eyes. You hoped he listened, as your face was growing hot and beginning to cramp. You braced yourself for the nail marks that you would feel embedded in your skin.

He grinned. "Give me a kiss."

You leaned forward slightly, pecking his lips. He scoffed and shook you a bit, making you wince. "A real one, c'mon now."

You obeyed and attached your lips to his. He wasted no time slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn't just kissing you, he was letting you know that he was in charge.

For as long as you're here.

He pulled away with a chuckle before pushing your head down away from him further into the couch, then letting go. He returned to his spot while you lay there, trying to catch your breath.

You hadn't even noticed your thighs being clenched together. Your eyes watered slightly at the idea.

You were losing it. You were losing yourself, slowing turning into his. Your life now in his hands. Your freedom being stripped away from you.

“When I get outta here, m’ gonna kill you.” Your words were timid and empty.

The only thing left he had to change about you was that bratty mouth.

#dark content #yandere boku no hero academia #tw yandere #bnha hawks #yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo #yandere keigo x reader #bnha x reader #yandere #mha keigo takami #mha keigo x reader #yandere blog #dark writing #yandere x reader #yandere x you

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

The Disquietude of Purgatory║ ⓛⓘⓜⓘⓣⓔⓓ ⓢⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

| The Disquietude of Purgatory | part of the Whistle in the Dark collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x married!fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  9.2k | CONTENT: darker themes and situations than previous installments, discussions/depictions of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse,  infidelity (husband cheating on wife), no cucking in this installment, Horny Demon Hours shit

| SYNOPSIS: After the upheaval of Matthew blindsiding you with separation and the destruction of your reputation, you try to pick up the pieces and move forward. Joel is firmly by your side. You want to believe maybe - finally - Matthew’s destructive, vindictive nature won’t claim you as the victim.

You know your silence is bothering Joel, but you can’t seem to snap yourself out of your doldrums long enough to say anything. You aren’t even sure how to put things into words at the moment. It was a hazy walk to Joel and Ellie’s. When you step inside, it’s clear Ellie has been expecting Joel to return home with you in tow. She greets you with a tentative nod, and you return it, grateful she doesn’t seem to require any further social niceties. 

You slump forward to take your shoes off and manage to remove them with a little help from Joel. Your movements feel strange,  like the blood rushing around your veins was nothing more than millions of little ants scurrying and scratching along your vessels. It was almost a deep itch of discomfort just to be existing. You absentmindedly reach out for Joel, who readily pulls you into him without even glancing down.

His eyes are locked with Ellie’s. He murmurs something to her. Or maybe it’s at regular volume and you’re just stuck in your nebulous cloud of upheaval. You’re faintly aware of their muted conversation but come to when Joel begins telling her that the two of you needed some privacy for the night. The guilt of Joel asking Ellie to avoid areas of her own house just because your life was falling apart?  THAT was enough to snap you out of it.

“No,” you rasp weakly.

Joel’s head nearly spins off its axis as it snaps your direction. It was the first word you’d spoken in hours. After the 15 or so minutes of fruitless effort trying to get you to talk to him — to say anything — after he’d found you in the stables, he’d resigned to just pulling you close and holding onto you for dear life.

Never much of a talker for anyone except a handful of people, Joel found it in himself to fill the silence with words of encouragement and comfort. Each word spoken as if they were the string that kept you tied to reality when everything around you had come crashing down.

“No?” Joel repeats, clutching you closer to his side and tilting your chin to look at him.

You give a feeble shake of your head back and forth. “Don’t make her leave. It’s not right.”

“I mean.. I’m good,” Ellie offers up awkwardly. “This kinda seems like a disaster, to be honest.”

“Ellie!” he snaps.

“What?! Oh, I’m supposed to say this all seems totally normal and great?” she lobs back. “Come the fuck on!”

“This ain’t somethin’ someone your age would underst—”

“Uh, it’s really not that hard to understand, Joel. I know a shitshow when I see one,” she snorts. There’s no real bite in her words. Her complete lack of adherence to the basics of social formalities was as jarring as it was amusing. “ I dunno why you’re trying to act like it’s not at least a little bit weird. Even she’s gotta feel like she’s the star of the circus right now.”

Joel makes a strange noise that sounds a lot like he’s choking back a thundering reprimand.

They both draw in a breath, sucking in as much air as they possibly can in order to unleash tirades on one another. Their argument is cut short  when you break into a shrill laugh. They both eye you curiously – Ellie more with a concerned squirm – as your laughter grows into a frenzied belly laugh.

“Uuuuhhhhh,” Ellie says under her breath. Her eyes flicker to Joel for an answer. Joel doesn’t have one.

They both stand there as the unwilling and uncomfortable audience to your jubilant breakdown. Tears collect at the corners of your eyes and begin falling down the curves of your cheeks.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you laugh in between breaths. “I just— this is a fucking mess.”

The shear stress of the day has finally worn away all traces of mental clarity, it seems. Ellie’s eyebrows are almost at her hairline as she shoots you an uncertain smile. “I mean, yeah. I, uh, I wasn’t trying to be rude, I swear. It’s just… I don’t mind giving you two some space. ‘Cuz, I mean– like, seriously.”

Joel briefly glowers at Ellie but shifts his attention back to you. “She stays out in the back addition anyway. You ain’t makin’ her leave her own house. She’s just fine. Aren’t ya, Ellie?” His question to her is pointed, but she just shrugs and grins.

“Yeah, old man. I’m fine.”

Joel’s eyes fall closed for a moment as though he’s working up the patience to engage with her further.

“I’ll be out back if you need anything,” she says, slapping him much too hard on the arm that’s not around you. She glances at you thoughtfully. “And, uh, sorry about.. all your… life stuff?” She purses her lips into a pensive frown, evidently unsure of how to word her condolences to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe out in a small laugh.

Ellie gives Joel a nod and heads out back to her adjacent housing.

“We’re workin’ on manners and, apparently, basic fuckin’ social interaction,” Joel grumbles. You note the pink in his cheeks, almost as if he’s genuinely mortified at Ellie’s lack of social decorum.

“Joel, she’s just a kid,” you remind him softly. Your voice crackles from the disuse and all the crying. “I’m sure she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react. I mean, I don’t even know what to do with myself right now.”

He looks down at you, and his irritated demeanor slips away into a gentle gaze as he takes you in. “Too understandin’ for your own good sometimes.”

You shuffle back and forth for a moment, feeling aware of your body again after your bout of detachment. Joel’s hold tightens on you ever so slightly.

“You here with me now?” he asks gently.

You offer a watery smile and nod. You wrap an arm around his middle and circle the other behind his back to meet it. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where I’m supposed to begin with all this mess,” you sigh. Your bones feel weary. Your heart feels like lead is pumping through it, collecting in your chambers and weighing you down with each pulse of blood.

“I think you should probably eat somethin’, to start,” he suggests.

Your stomach turns at the thought of food. “I-I don’t know if it’ll settle if I eat something right now,” you admit.

Joel runs his large palm against the fall of your hair. “Alright,” he concedes. “Then let's get you upstairs and washed up a bit. See if that’ll get ya feelin’ more like gettin’ somethin’ on your stomach.”

You let Joel lead you upstairs. The numb feeling was still shifting in and out of you. When you realize you’ve stopped walking and have made it to his bedroom, your eyes come back into focus. Joel appraises you with an unspoken question. You nod silently, understanding what it is he’s uncertain how or if he should ask.

“I can? You’ll let me?” he wonders aloud.

“Yes,” you reply in a soft lull.

He doesn’t want you to think about whether or not you deserve it. He doesn’t want you to think about what you have to offer in return or if you'll be able to make it up to him. He doesn’t want you to wonder if he feels obligated to do all of this for you.

Joel wants to take care of you. He wants you to let him.

And you do.

It’s frightening to give yourself over to someone wholly, for them to cradle your sanity in the palm of their hands. He could crush you in an instant, if he wanted to. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but so is love. So, you let him. Because you love him. You love Joel, and a small part of you knows he loves you back in the same exact way.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair as he pulls you into a warm embrace. He draws back to look at your face as he cradles it between his calloused, gentle hands. “I’ve got you, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

You nod and sigh softly when he brings his lips to yours. You sit calmly and quietly as he starts up the shower and undresses you both. You lean into the safe feeling of him washing away the day from you. Just like the water runs over you and spins down the drain, Joel enshrouds you in himself – in his safety – and cleanses the pain and the hardships of whatever else is out there, all to be washed away from you and forgotten.

You were going to be okay. Joel was going to make sure you were okay. Joel loves you. You know he does.

The soft drag of his t-shirt against your body provides a comfort that is only second to being blanketed in his scent. He pulls a pair of pajama bottoms onto himself and rummages around for what you can only assume is something to adorn your lower half. You slowly approach him from behind and place a soft hand across the warmth of his bare back. He pauses to look at you. You know what he finds when he searches your face. The want is all to clear.

“Lay down with me,” you say into the quiet of the dimly lit bedroom.

He nods slowly and pulls you towards the bed. You sidle into the center of the bed together, eyes wandering over the other’s face. Your breaths are slow and soft.

“Tell me what you need, honey,” he implores in a low hum.

Your fingertips trace the lines of his face. You let them graze slowly across his lips and watch as they part obediently at your touch.

“I just want to feel loved,” your muted confession spills out.

Joel’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he settles on silence. He looks as though he wants to say something but thinks better of it at the last moment. He wordlessly reaches an arm around you, cupping your backside, and bringing you flush against him.

“I said it before, and m’gonna say it again. I will do whatever it takes to make you understand the way you can make someone feel about you. To make you understand what I feel for you, my sweet girl,” he breathes into the shell of your ear.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps. The gentle press of his lips along the column of your throat makes your mind feel hazy again. “I want you to show me. Please.” Your words tremble out.

A soft grunt is his only reply before he’s making a steady pass of kisses towards your collarbone.

Your ragged breaths pick up tempo the lower Joel’s mouth works over your body. A soft sigh escapes when he mouths against your breasts. You move to pull his t-shirt off your body, but he stops you.

“Wanna fuck you in it,” he rasps, grabbing at the bits of skin you exposed when you pulled the shirt upward. “Want you to wear me. Wanna be in you. Want you tuh’feel all of me,” he adds in a low, muddled hum.

He kneads at the soft underside of your bare breasts, cresting the pad of his thumbs against your peaked nipples. Your body arches to chase his touch. He switches out his thumb for his mouth as he lazily slips his tongue over them. Your hands fly to the back of his head and the nape of his neck where you bury your fingers into the damp curls of his hair.

He works his way down your tummy. The flex of his hands grips into bits of pliant flesh, eager to be devoured. His kisses across the contours of your shaking thighs send a tingling thrill up your spine. You bite down on your lip to keep the wanton, loud sounds from spewing out uncontrollably.

“S’alright,” he groans against your folds. “I wanna hear what I do to you. Lemme hear it.”

You immediately release the shaky whimper you were holding back.

“God, yeah. Perfect for me, angel. Just like that.” 

He flits his tongue along your seam and rolls its against your clit. Your entire body tenses at the sensation, desperate and oversensitive for his touch and attention. He chuckles to himself when your legs automatically start to clamp together at all the sensory input he’s flooding you with. He pries you back open, intent on keeping his promise of showing you what you do to him. He rolls his tongue in curling waves against you, undulating in a merciless circuit against your clit. Your calves begin to shake from how tight you’re clenching them as your orgasm starts to crest.

“Yeah, right there. You give it to me, baby. You hear me? Go on ‘n give it to me,” he goads just before forming a wet vacuum of his lips around your clit. The first ardent suckling that draws your sensitive nub further back into his mouth sets off your climax in a dizzying burst. Your legs seize up, and the harsh clench of every muscle in your body jolts you forward. Joel grabs your hands in his and lets you squeeze them as he keeps suckling and slurping. 

Your teeth grind together, but a strangled moan still edges through. Your walls are still spasming when he releases one of your hands and inserts two fingers, immediately plunging them in and upward in a quick looping motion. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You writhe at his incessant ministrations. You can already feel another orgasm building on the tailend of the last. A third finger and harder drives send you over the edge. Your mouth opens in a silent cry. Joel is panting as he shoves his pajama bottoms off his legs and onto the floor.

“Fuck–fuck,” he hisses to himself, grabbing at his already hard cock. He strokes himself a few times and groans. The red, swollen tip is drooling precome, and you absentmindedly lick your lips when a bead of it starts to dribble down his length.

Your breaths quicken at the thought of how it stings and bites when every bit of it sinks into you. Those first few punches of it against the mouth of your womb. The demand it places on your walls to accommodate him, spasming with the effort of stretching enough for him as he cleaves you in two.

“Put it– please, I want it so ba—”

Joel flips you onto your tummy and sheaths himself into you with one swift plunge. He lets out a pained moan when he bottoms out. You feel the air punch out of your lungs with every sequential thrust.

“Goddamn! Wan’you—fuck—wan’you so fuckin’ bad,” he moans. When you lift your hips so he can go deeper, you swear for a moment you hear him whimper. “That’s it, honey. Yeah, want more, huh? M’gonna give you more, baby. Gonna give you more.”

You reach an arm behind you, and Joel understands without you having to say it out loud. He presses his chest into your back and continues slamming into you. Your arousal only heightens listening to the filthy wet squelching sounds of him ramming into the deepest parts of you. He tucks his hands under your hips to hold them up when they start to drop. You make one continuous trembling moan, only broken up by the breath being fucked out of you every time Joel bottoms out.

When he angles himself slightly upward and starts nudging the ridged, spongy part deep inside you, your balance fails you completely, and you collapse into a trembling mess beneath him as you come. One of Joel’s hands slips between your folds to rub your clit while you ride out your high while the other snakes its way around your neck to pull your head up enough that your crown lay against his shoulder .

“Jus’like thah,” Joel pants into your ear. “Jus’ fuckin’ like that, baby. So-hnnggggg–SO FUCKIN’ good for me. Takin’ me so good. Takin’ me so fuckin’ — hnnnnffffuuu-FUCK– so fuckin’ good.”

He places sloppy kisses along your hairline and neck as his thrust slow. You lay splayed out on the mattress beneath him, shivering and trembling at multiple orgasms in such quick succession. “You’re gonna give me another one,” he huffs, trying to catch his breath.

You whine in lieu of a verbal response, already too fucked out to think straight enough to form anything rational or intelligible.

“So fuckin’ dumb on this cock,” Joel groans in your ear as he flips you back over, limp and already completely spent. “Got you so fucked out, baby. Told you I was gonna give it to you. Tell you how I feel. Show you what you do to me.”

You slur something incoherent back at him, which only makes him grin wildly. His eyes are bright and explosive with something possessive and resolute. 

“C’mere.” He drags your body closer to the side of the bed until your legs dangle off the edge. He plants his knee beside your thigh for leverage and presses himself inside you once more. His brow scrunches and matches the pleasured frown he already has at the feel of you encasing him from all sides like the grip of a slick, wet fist. 

He captures a soft rhythm with his hips and eases slowly in and out of you. And just like the delicate petals of a flower unfurling until they inevitably separate from the stem, you feel your pleasure gently drifting down down down as you sink into an alcove of content. Your breath catches when he tilts your hips upward just so. He holds your gaze with a burning refrain, the look of a man who wants nothing more than to worship at the altar of your love. You cloister yourselves in the temple of one another.

You feel compelled to speak on the things he makes you feel. The overwhelming joy of his body melding with yours. The safety he wraps you in. The affection he holds for you. “Joel, I– This– Joel, I’m—” Your words fail you. You whimper at the almost overstimulation of his cock dragging back and forth inside your swollen, needy hole.

“Ssshh. I know, baby. I know,” he says softly.

You whine and grind your hips to meet his slow thrusts. You can feel your previous arousal dripping out of you when he pulls back far enough, just before he drives a grueling snap of his cock right back into the furthest reaches of your messy cunt. Broken, breathy moans press from your lungs.

“Ahhhh–I know, honey, I know. I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your lips before sliding his tongue against your mouth until you open for him. He takes his time deepening the kiss, building it into a slow and deliberate thing while he makes you come completely undone.

He hooks his hand under your knee and folds it against your chest, pressing deeper into you with each stroke. A choked gasp gets stuck in your throat when he starts thrusting his thick tip in earnest right against your cervix. Your whole lower half starks to shake again when you feel another wave building in your lower belly. “Give it’tuh me,” he grits out. He pushes the limits of your sanity and clarity when he starts a tight roll of his hips, hitting your cervix in quick succession. “C’mon. Gimme another.”

You brace your bent leg against his chest where he’s pressing you down into the mattress. Your vision goes flat when your climax rips through you. You shriek out in a sob at the force of it. You feel wet streams gather and  fall from your lashline. You grab haphazardly onto Joel’s biceps, clinging onto something - anything - as your blistering pleasure wipes your mind of all else.

“YYEaaahhhh,” he groans. You can barely see from the cloud of your tears and the whiteout vision.

“Fuckin’ god, so tight on me, fuck –told’ya I was gonna make you fuckin’ — AGH goddamn—” Joel sounds absolutely wrecked trying to stave off his own orgasm “—fuckin’ cry on this cock again.”

Your vocal chords crackle something akin to a reply. Joel’s hoarse moans and pants are the only thing you can hear aside from the sucking wet squeeze of your walls around him, growing noisier and filthier with the hastening of him pistoning into you. 

“Gonna give it to you now, baby,” he pants. “Gonna fuckin’ show you now.”

Your mind barely registers what he’s saying. If everything leading up to this wasn’t already showing you how badly he wanted you and how much you meant to him, you weren’t sure of what else or how much else you could take. You didn’t have long to wonder what else could be coming your way.

Joel braces his arms on either side of your head, looking into your eyes with a feral sort of want, before slamming into you so hard you start scooting backwards each time his hips collide into the cradle of your thighs.

“JOEL!” you let out in a pitched scream. Your walls start spasming with no preamble as he draws yet another orgasm from you. You can feel the snot gathering in your nostrils and dripping to the top of your

lips as you continue to truly cry and sob out in pleasure. You sniff with each pitiful drag of breath you manage to pull in. You feel as though every orifice of your body is seizing, clenching, or dripping.

Joel’s teeth are bared into a gritted snarl, and his chest heaves with the effort of utterly dismantling every part of you. His groans sound only with the air clawing to and from his lungs. He grabs onto you to keep you in place, counteracting your movement across the bed from his merciless drives.

“FUCKIN’ SAY IT,” he growls. He bites his bottom lip so hard the margins of his teeth tinge with blood.

When all  you can manage is whimpers and incoherent mumbling, Joel is gracious and compassionate for the state and limitations of your cock addled brain and decides to help you out. “WHO’S GONNA WRECK THIS PUSSY, HUH? WHO’S GONNA SOAK IT??? HUH???? FUCKIN’ TELL ME.”

“Y-Yyouuuuuuuu,” you wail. “You’re g-gonna—” you hiccup at the overstimulation now “—wreck me, my-my pussy. Ohmygod– gonna s-soak it. PLEASE!”

A low, guttural grunt is the only warning you get before you feel the hot liquid siphon of his come spilling out and funneling straight to your womb. He doesn’t stop pushing it as far into you as he can with harsh snaps of his hips until every last drop has been spent and coats your insides.

Joel collapses onto you in a heap, sounding somewhere between pained panting and blissed out, throaty hums. You welcome the weight of him pressing into the expanse you, holding you where he surrounds you in affection and comfort - the little nook of safekeeping he crafted for you to occupy.

He pushes off you enough that you can take a full breath but still has his arm and leg slung over top of you. You can feel his spend drooling out of your used, drenched hole. Without looking at where his hand now sits between your folds, he curls the dribbles into the scoop of his fingertips and smears it upwards to where it leaks out of you. Your breath catches at the overstimulation of him pushing it back inside your opening. He pushes two fingers inside just to hear the sound of his cum squelching into you again. 

You sigh a whine at the feeling of him claiming you once more, after filling you to the brim with his cock, spilling out into you until every crevice of your sex was marked by him, making your hole drink him back in when it can no longer hold the remnants of his pleasure.

His breath is hot on your ear. “You gonna keep me inside you a lil longer, sweet girl?” He circles his fingers against your entrance where his spend smears and weeps out.

You turn to face him and swallow hard. Your hands curl around the back of his neck as you give an affirmative bob of your head.

“S’good. S’real good, baby,” he sighs contentedly. “You understandin’ now? Hm? Understandin’ how I feel ‘bout you? How loved you really are?—” he pauses to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear “—What I’d do for you? Jus’tuh call you mine? To have you wrapped up in this bed w’me every night?”

You slowly nod. Joel loved you in the very same way you loved him: fierce and unconditional. As you quietly hold each other, you think to yourself that Matthew’s destructive, vindictive nature just might work in your favor for once.

You had envisioned  leaving your desolate, unfulfilling life with Matthew behind you more times than you could count, but none of them were ever like this in your imaginings. The cold, cruel disgrace he’d rendered, layered with an intricate nuance that touched on each and every insecurity you had. It was a reminder of the painful mistake of the wrong person knowing everything about you. Even more so painful when, perhaps, they had seemed like the right person once upon a time.

But there was no going back now. There was nothing you could change about having let Matthew in, having cultivated your own ruination. There was only a path forward, and you took one blind step after another, in search and in hope of finding sanity and peace.

The muted comments you were so used to following you around now felt like claps of thunder with each hushed whisper of gossip the town breathed of you. The sets of eyes following you felt like they had grown tenfold in such a short amount of time. It would’ve bothered you less if you could know for certain it wasn’t the same cloud of shame following Ellie and Joel around. You don’t think you could bear to be the cause of their unhappiness. You would sooner let Matthew destroy everything you have and everything you are before you’d willingly grant him the satisfaction of hurting them.

As expected, Joel insisted you keep a low profile at the house and let him or Ellie run errands. He could see the way the town’s abrupt shift in their perceptions of you and your marriage had gnawed into your chest, snapping the delicate bone that housed the pith of your resilient spirit. He wouldn’t let Matthew’s grip clutch around you like that. He refused.

“I don’t give a shit what anybody has to say, and nobody is botherin’ Ellie,” he insists.

“Joel, it’s not right for me to hide away and let you two bear the brunt of whatever bullshit Matthew is spewing,” you counter.

“Let me be clear. I don’t give a single flyin’ fuck what that asshole’s got stirred up. I care about you bein’ out in it and takin’ it on. I know you do. I know it bothers you.”

You wish you could argue, but it’s true. The way Matthew has twisted the truth of your relationship and dynamic has been brutal to endure, even with Joel firmly at your side. The fact that you immediately moved in with another man set more tongues wagging, only adding onto the idea that neither you nor Matthew were completely faithful partners throughout your marriage and that maybe his never ending string of infidelities weren’t all so illicit afterall. If both parties were in the wrong, neither party could be in the right.

“Tommy gave you the week off for a reason, alright? So use it to get settled in, and let me ‘n Ellie worry about the rest of it for right now,” he reasons.

You hold his gaze, your resolve wilting away with each passing second.

“You get started on some’uh your stuff, and I’ll head over to get the rest of it.”

You sigh and nod, surrendering to let Joel once again step up and take care of you. He wanted to. You kept telling yourself so. He wanted this. He wanted you. It didn’t matter what else came with it. He wanted you. He loved you.

“C’mere,” he mutters, pulling you gently into a hug. He leans back and kisses you. “It’ll be alright. I promise. You just let me worry about it.”

“It’s not your burden,” you mutter.

“Doesn’t matter whose cross it is to bear when I’d take it on regardless. I’m not doin’ this because I have to. I’m doin’ this because I want to,” he presses.

You wring your hands together, trying to think of something to say that would convince him that you aren’t worth all this trouble. As if he could read each thought like it was written across your face in bold, red letters, he cocked his head to the side and grinned.

“You know what I get to thinkin’ when I can tell you got nonsense knockin’ around up there in that brain of yours.”

You feel the pull of a grin edge onto the corners of your mouth. Joel raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. He wants you to say it.

“You’ll have to fuck it out of me,” you whisper in a giggle.

“Smart and beautiful,” he quips with a smug grin as he pulls you close.

You feel the heat of shyness and want creep across your chest and cheeks. You dip your head to hide yourself away a little bit.

He nips at your earlobe. “And you got it just right, honey. Start talkin’ nonsense, and I’m gonna hafta fuck it outta you,” he murmurs in a gravelly voice.

Joel had made trips to John’s over the past several days to gather up all your belongings that Matthew had haphazardly packed up into worn out boxes. Joel had been diligent in his effort to not speak on Matthew’s predatory relationship with John’s daughter Natalie. You had sworn that you wouldn’t divulge any of the details, and for some reason you intended to still keep the promise despite everything Matthew was doing.

This was the last trip that Joel would have to make. He wouldn’t have another opportunity like this to speak on something he felt needed to be disclosed. He had never made any sort of promise to Matthew, so there was no agreement to renege. John fiddles with something in the corner of the room as Joel sets aside his last trip worth of things.

“You know, John,” he hesitates for only a split second before diving right into it. “I got somethin’ to say, and you can do with it what ya will. I just know if the situation was flipped, I’d sure as hell hope somebody’d come tell me.”

John sets his work down and quirks an eyebrow curiously at Joel. Never one to strike up conversation unless absolutely necessary, Joel’s sudden announcement that he had something to share came as more than a surprise. It also lent itself to the inherent weight of whatever was to come: someone so quiet and reserved now has something so compelling that they have to get it off their chest? It must be something important.

“I’m not gonna sit here and say I saw anythin’ with my own two eyes, because I didn’t, but I don’t think that’s a good enough reason anymore to not speak on it.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides. It’s not from nerves. He’s getting angry just thinking about everything Matthew has done.

“Alright. Say what’s on your mind then, Miller.” John jerks his head upwards, signaling Joel to continue.

Joel nods thoughtfully for a moment, wanting to choose his words carefully. If he speaks with all the passion and anger he holds for Matthew’s actions, he will risk coming across as only vindictive and reactionary to the recent events. 

“It ain’t exactly a secret that piece’uh shit next door has been with just about every woman in Jackson if they were stupid enough to have him, but I come to learn recently that it might not just be women he’s interested in. Might be the kinda fucked up man to think somethin’ on the younger side was some sorta sick prize to win. Braggin’ rights and all that sorta thing.”

John’s head cocks to the side. His eyes glance towards the stairwell, presumably leading up to his and his daughter Natalie’s bedrooms. When his eyes snap back to Joel’s, there’s a cinder that’s been flooded with oxygen.

“So, if somebody’d done somethin’ to Ellie for example,” Joel continues, emphasizing his commonalities with John, “but I didn’t know somethin’ had happened…..”

John’s brow furrows as his gaze sinks to the ground. He looks deep in thought, disbelief, and realization.

“Maybe I’d wonder why she’d been actin’ off lately. Maybe I’d’ve noticed her lookin’ sorta sad. I wouldn’t’uh said anythin’ to her probably, ‘cause teenage girls just kinda do that stuff, right?” Joel huffs in a humorless laugh.

John’s eyes rise again and have a notable gloss veiling them. He begins to blink rapidly. Joel suppresses the emotion tightening in his chest. The thought of anyone harming Ellie was enough to make him feel helpless and furious. The man across from him unfortunately didn’t have to imagine how he might feel if someone had harmed his baby girl.

Joel’s jaw sets to the side and back. “And I know that - dad to dad - you’d wanna tell me if you even had a shadow of a doubt that somebody had preyed on Ellie.”

John’s face was contorted in rage and comprehension. Joel had to avert his gaze for a moment when the anguished look of failure began to escape through the cracks. He knew all too well the weight of failing someone you were meant to protect at any and all cost.

“So if any’uh that is strikin’ a chord with you… I’m-I’m sorry,” Joel offers gently.

John’s hands are firmly on his hips, mirroring Joel’s stance. He shakes his head at the ground with a sour look.

“Get the boxes and head out, Miller,” he answers in a detached voice. “Natalie’s due home in a half hour, and I’m gonna need some privacy with her.”

Joel grunts in affirmation and packs up the last of your things. 

He walked home without a firm understanding of the chain of events he’d just set off. It wouldn’t have come as any surprise to him to know that when Natalie did get home, she was met at the door by her openly distraught father. That when she was asked by her dad if anyone had done anything to her, she shrunk into herself and couldn’t hold eye contact. That when pressed for an answer, she would’ve admitted that she thought Matthew cared about her. That he promised he was in love. That he promised he couldn’t wait until she was old enough that they could “finally be together” out in the open. 

Omitting the more shameful details. That it had hurt so badly when they were finally intimate. So painful that her body hurt for the next week. When she’d told him, worried that something wasn’t right, he’d seemed pleased with himself. Assuring her that it was normal for your first time to be like that. Explaining that she needed to relax the next time but shouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t feel as good for her, too.

Yes, maybe Joel should’ve anticipated some of the aftershocks. He should’ve anticipated what a man similar to him would’ve done at the sight of his baby girl so utterly destroyed and broken - her innocence and trust stolen from her and never to be rightfully restored. That there would be nothing in the entire world that would stop him from finding the person that did it and exacting the cruelest revenge conceivable.

Joel should’ve known that a man like John - a man who much like himself was a protector above all else - wouldn’t let Matthew walk away unscathed.

“Joel, it’s fine,” you insist for the hundredth time. “Ellie doesn’t need to stay cooped up in the house to babysit me. Just let her go.”

Joel grumbles under his breath but generally seems to concede that he might just be going a little overboard. “She can do a sleepover another night. It don’t hafta be the one night I’m takin’ a shift.”

You bury the inclination to roll your eyes. “Half shift,” you pointedly correct him.

“Whatever. Still means I’ll be gone longer’n I should be.”

In some ways he was correct. He shouldn’t have to be leaving the house at all right now, but he’d insisted on taking up some random shifts and half shifts over the next week to help offset the days Tommy had given you to get settled into Joel’s house. There was enough coverage, but Joel seemed on edge about making sure nobody had any room to gripe about the patrol schedule getting off kilter while you’d been given the week off so you could attend to your personal matters.

He’d been even more protective and on edge ever since he went to pick up the last of your boxes from John. You wonder if John had said something to upset him, but Joel didn’t mention anything so you didn’t ask. 

You wonder if it was too much to ask Joel to retrieve your things and hold his tongue about Natalie. You hadn’t discussed it, but deep down you know it’s only right to tell John. You decide once you get settled in, you’ll have to talk with Joel about the best way to go about that. Maybe John wouldn’t believe you. Maybe no one would believe you. But at least for your own peace of mind you could know that you tried.

“Joel, it’s fine. I can head over to Tommy and Maria’s if I need anything, okay? Don’t take Ellie’s slumber party away from her on account of me, especially when it’s not even necessary.”

When Joel doesn’t respond, you sigh and set down the jumbled mess of your belongings you’d been sorting through for the past 45 minutes. “Joel,” you implore, cradling his face between the soft cup of your hands. “Baby. Please.”

He huffs and smirks at the petname rolling off your tongue like honey. “You know exactly what the fuck you’re doin’ usin’ that goddamn name on me,” he chuckles.

He grabs you up into a tight hug and nuzzles along your neck. Your low, playful giggle fills the air like a million little bells ringing off. Joel takes a deep breath and lets out a long exhale. He looks down at you with concern.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he presses.

“Yes. Positive,” you reply with a quick kiss. “Now go on before you’re late.”

A few - several - kisses later, and Joel finally departs. You kick yourself for forgetting to ask him if Ellie would be coming back by after school to get clothes for her sleepover or if she’d already packed them this morning. You decide you’ll make enough dinner for you both just in case she does have to make a stop by the house first. You hum to yourself quietly, trying to pass the time as you sort through your belongings.

You smile softly as you gently place a trinket of yours right next to something of Joel’s on the nightstand. He’d insisted you co-opt his bedroom and make it into your shared bedroom. When you tried to reason with him that he didn’t have to give up his own room, he just ignored you and hauled your boxes wordlessly into his bedroom.

As you look at your things together on the nightstand, you have to admit to yourself that it just seems right. Like they were meant to go together. Like you and Joel were meant to go together. A soft thud downstairs draws your attention to the stairwell just out of sight. You aren’t entirely sure how much time has passed since Joel left. It doesn’t feel like it’s been very long. 

You call out his name. No response. 

Once more, louder. 

Had he forgotten something and come back?

No response. 

You set the other trinket in your hand down and head for the door, hoping you’ll be able to better hear the happenings of the floor below you. A heavy creak of the floorboards freezes you on the spot. It’s just outside the bedroom door. A wave of heat and sick washes over you in the deceptively calm quiet that settles into the house and makes the air feel too heavy to breathe in.

A tall figure fills the doorframe. You jump back and gasp at the sight before you. A pulpy, bloodied mess of  a man. The swollen bits of flesh that had been pulverized make it hard to discern the distinct features of the face before you.

“Matthew?” you breathe.

When he calmly steps through the threshold of the frame, you can finally decipher enough of his countenance through the black and blue and the swelling. Despite everything he’s done to you, your instincts propel you forward to tend to him. Something that could bring harm to him in this way was enough to make dread grip in your stomach. If Matthew wasn’t safe from whoever had done this, were you safe? Was it going to come for you, too? All in an instant you’re transported back to those days of surviving in the wilderness together, fighting for your lives every day until you made it to Jackson.

You stumble forward. “Wh-What happened?” you ask shakily. You feel afraid in this moment –  not of him, but for him. You tentatively extend a trembling hand to his pummeled face. You shudder at the thought of what the confrontation must have been like to have left him in such a state.

A pinching grasp around your wrist stops you mid-air. You hiss at the pain.

“You’re going to insult my intelligence? Really? Just pretend you know nothing about any of this? Like I’m that fucking stupid?” His voice is dangerous, low. Barely restrained fury dances at the edge of it. The words are slightly garbled from the stiffness of his jaw movements. It must hurt him to even utilize enough muscles to speak given the condition he’s in.

Your fear now shifts to its rightful place – to yourself. You’re in immense danger, and you’d only just registered it. Your eyes widen as you try to break free from Matthew’s hold. He tightens it. You wince. He tightens it even more, watching you with a calm veneer of detachment as you squirm at the pulsing, sharp hurt starting to spread up your arm. He grabs your other wrist and yanks you forward.

“If you’re honest with me, it will make this go a hell of a lot easier for you,” he warns.

You try to swallow past the dry patch in your throat. “M–Matthew,” you start with as level a voice as you can manage, “I’m being honest.”

His battered face contorts into a twisted grin. He’d wanted you to answer that way.

He shifts the clutch of your wrists into one of his hands and grabs your jaw with the other. His fingers are pressing mercilessly into the flesh, crushing into your jaw so hard it feels as though your tongue is being clamped in place. 

“You should know better than to lie to me,” he utters, venom laced in each syllable. “Admit it. Admit that you went back on your word and told John about me and Natalie.”

It’s a threatening provocation, a challenge that you’re not even certain has a correct answer as far as Matthew is concerned. You shake your head frantically, but the movement is limited by his vice grip on your jaw.

“Liar,” Matthew whispers inches from your face. 

He slams you into the ground and pins you underfoot as you try to scurry away. He smacks a cupped hand against your ear, and you scream out in pain. A deafening whistle sound rings through the muffled white noise in the ear he’d struck. He’s suddenly down on the floor with you, grabbing you up by the collar of your shirt and yanking your face around with his vice grip again.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” he asks into the only ear you can properly hear out of now.

His breathing is labored. His teeth are bared. You’d feel like a prey caught by its hunter, but the glint in his eye tells you that the chase has only just begun. He draws his hand back and slaps your face. You knew it was coming, and you still find shock at the pain. You instinctively cower and raise your hands to hover above you in a sign of surrender. The skin of your cheek explodes in heat and pinpricks. Your jaw feels unhinged. You’re reminded of your father. You yelp when Matthew snatches up a fistful of your hair and drags you closer to him.

“Look what he did to me,” he commands. He jerks you forward to closer inspect John’s work. “I bet you love seeing me hurt.”

You shake your head again emphatically. It’s no use. Another blow lands on the same side of your face he’d already hit. You cry out, rambling apologies for things you haven’t done, begging for understanding of things you didn’t say.

“That’s okay,” he insists in a feigned cool tone. “I like to see you hurt, too.”

He grabs you up with a hold on either side of your upper arms and shoves you roughly into the bedframe’s pointed corner. It’s a harsh angle that stabs into your back between your shoulder blades where he’s slowly pressing you harder and harder into the point. Your breath catches in your throat when he stops for a moment, and you realize it was only to make the next slam into the hard corner all the more unexpected and painful.

“MATTHEW!” you shriek. It’s a hectic plea for him to stop, even though you know he won’t.

“You knew what you were doing. You knew what telling him meant for me, and that still didn’t stop you. So why should I give you the mercy you won’t even show me?”

Another hard blow, to your chest this time. You cough and sputter.

“You know he’s planning to go the the Council today? To tell them everything and demand my expulsion from Jackson?”

His large hand wraps around your neck as his knee pins you against the bedframe and the ground. He slowly begins to squeeze.

“You know what that will mean for me.”

And you do. There were a lot of things that were frowned upon here – stirring up rowdy bar fights, not pulling your weight, going against town ordinances of basic safety practices – but there were a handful of things that weren’t tolerated whatsoever. Murder was an obvious charge. Stealing from the community was another surefire way to guarantee you’d be asked to leave before being forced to do so. Another grievance squarely on that list of absolute nonstarters was the grooming and exploitation of children. It didn’t matter how old Natalie looked or acted; she was still a child. She would be considered such for many more years to come.

Matthew’s fingers tighten around your windpipe. You grab at his forearm but know it will only serve to spur him on. He lets up just enough for you to take a breath before he’s straddling you with his entire body weight. Your eyes are wild and pleading. Matthew’s meet yours, but there is nothing but a black, unfeeling void staring back.

“You know what will happen to me.”

He would have a hard time pleading his case to be allowed to stay in Jackson once John made it abundantly clear that he was a snake in the grass who was capable of some truly deplorable things. There were enough disgruntled husbands of wives that Matthew had entertained who would undoubtedly love to see him get cut loose from the settlement. You aren’t sure the fact of his forthcoming child is enough to save him from expulsion.

“Matthew, please,” you choke out.

“Your father and brother had the right idea,” he snarls.

You freeze in place at the mention of them. The mere memory of them is enough to frighten you into stillness.

“I never understood why they’d beat someone like you, someone so desperate to listen and follow instructions – just to be loved,” he muses callously. You wince at the harsh truth of his words. “I never understood why they’d beat such a pathetic thing. Somebody so aware of their own uselessness.”

Tears pinch behind your eyes.

“Because that’s what you were. What you are. But you can’t help what you’ve always been, now can you?”

A swift slap makes the tears seep to the front of your eyes. His breathing is becoming more erratic. Every strike he lands only seems to fuel his hunger for your suffering.

“I used to feel sorry for you. Desperate for love while being such an unlovable thing. Hardly seemed fair.”

The wet streams trickle down your temple. You sniffle.

“And it didn’t take me long to realize how useful you would be for me. Someone to appreciate and savor any little scrap I offered. Someone so starved for affection that they’re willing to accept anything. Never brave enough to ask for more. Never stupid enough to believe they deserved more.”

“Please stop,” you gurgle.

“I should’ve let them kill you that day,” he grits out. “I shouldn’t have saved your life. It was never worth anything to begin with, and now looks where it’s gotten me.”

You quietly cry. You know there’s never been an adequate way to pay him back for saving your life.

“You couldn’t even make yourself worthwhile being the bare minimum for me,” he breathes out in a harsh laugh. His brow quirks together, an inability to understand how you could manage to fuck up something so simple.

“And now what? I’m supposed to just wait for them to hand me down my sentence? Wait for them to tell me I have to leave?” he laughs humorlessly. “After all the shit I went through to get here. I don’t even know if I’d survive out there anymore. So do I die out there or do I decide my own fate?”

He watches your face with rapt attention, looking for any glimmer of understanding of his meaning. You shake your head, lost in the whirlwind of his madness.

“You have the nerve to take my entire life away from me when you can’t even repay the debt of me saving yours,” he hisses.

“I know I can’t—”

A sharp pop to your mouth stuns you into silence.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Matthew is trembling with a renewed rage, a sick hunger about him to delve into your ribcage and tear you apart from the inside out.

“You think that little stunt with Miller was the end of it? Hm? You think I couldn’t see how much you loved watching him shove that sock covered in his fucking COME – INTO – MY – THROAT?!” he accentuates the last few words with jabs of his fist to your upper chest where it meets your shoulder. Not enough to knock the wind out of you, but hard enough to remind you that you’re only breathing because he still wants you to.

You stutter through a gasp and a cough and a choke.

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You want to believe you’re better than me, but you’re not,” he taunts. “And now you’ll end up just like your mother. Dead at the hands of a husband who you could never begin to deserve.”

You still as though ice water has replaced the hot, sticky blood in your veins. Matthew grins wildly at your reaction.

“That’s right. You owe me your life, and it’s high time you paid that debt.”

You start crying again, shaking your head furiously. “No no, Matthew, please! It doesn't have to be this way,” you plead.

“Oh, but it does, my little wife,” he coos in a sickening coddle. “And that piece of shit you let into our house? Who you thought you could just run into his arms and escape our life together? I’m going to wait for him to come back home before I do it.”

“MATTHEW, PLEASE–” you sob.

“Watched him leave the house this morning,” he whispers. “Watched him walk away without any idea of what he’s gonna come home to. And I can’t wait for him to see what his choices have earned him. Can’t wait to see his face when he watches the life leave your eyes.”

He smiles fondly at you. Your throat and chest burn as you cry and beg for him to not involve anyone else. You begin to present any and every reason you can think of for him to spare your life. When you bring up his unborn child, his sneer makes your heart stutter.

“You think I care about that? Some bastard child?” he mocks.

He looks at you with disdain, a disappointment that you still don’t really know him at all.

“You wanna know why I got her pregnant?” he asks softly.

He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “You screaming for Miller to put a baby in you? Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To be with him? To have a family with him?”

You don’t dare to make a sound or an expression. This was a dangerous game, and there was already no way for you to win. There were only ways to make it worse for yourself.

“But you’ll never get it. You’ll never have what I’m capable of having. You will never know what it is to have him fuck you until it takes.”

You swallow harshly but remain silent.

“YOU won’t ever have anything unless I’M the one giving it to you, do you understand?” he bites. You watch the pulse of the veins on his temples throb the angrier he becomes.

“You don’t get to play house after you rip my entire life away from me,” he hisses so low you barely hear him with your one good ear.

“Matthew, I’m sorry,” you whimper. He shakes his head thoughtfully. “You’re not. Not yet.”

It’s a constant rain of blows down on you, and you don’t fight it. There’s no use. He’s already decided what’s going to happen, and you can’t stop it.

The last coherent thought that goes through your mind before you lose consciousness is that you realize you never got to tell Joel you love him.

Hey, gang,

Real quick: please be mindful of your responses to this portion of the story.

I’m not going to police anyone’s reaction, but I would like to ask that you take into consideration your words before you post them.

I know it may be upsetting that she didn’t fight back or try harder to escape or what have you, but the truth of it is that not everyone responds to stressful situations like that, especially if your mind has been programmed to respond certain ways to abuse. It is almost a learned, instinctive response sometimes due to years of abuse and mistreatment.

Not everyone is brave. Not everyone fights back. Sometimes people just freeze up. Sometimes people are immobilized by their fear. It doesn’t make them less worthy of your understanding. This is a work of fiction, yes, but many of the elements of the story are all too real.

Thank you for reading, and feel free to rant about whatever sorts of ills you wish for Matthew to suffer.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: whistle in the dark #joel miller #cuckolding is romantic #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #tlou

[licncourt]

I totally understand your opinion about amc Lestat but don't you think this could just be Louis' perspective on him? Or Claudia herself? They portrayed Lestat as a demon in first book, I want to give a chance to the 2 second , the show plays a lot with things from point of view and memory, I think people are giving up too soon...

I've talked about this before, but it was over a year ago now so I'll explain again.

While I understand where you're coming from, I honestly don't think it would matter to me. Even if what happened in ep 5 was 100% something Louis or Claudia dreamed up, I would still have major issues because:

Even though ep 1 had a content warning for Paul's suicide, there was absolutely nothing before ep 5, something that the viewers had established trust with the creators to do. I think there's one now on AMC+, but that was added weeks later after backlash. The showrunners doubling down and the episode director almost mocking fans who were upset was incredibly tasteless as well.

The story as pitched by the showrunners feels very much like bait and switch false advertising. It was pitched to the viewers as a gothic love story that was "the most faithful adaptation of IWTV ever". Not to mention the insane tonal shift into something that moved from fantasy violence against NPCs to brutal domestic violence and the vampire version of sexual assault. Anyone coming from the books had no reason to anticipate this dynamic between Loustat, nor would anyone who checked out the source material prior to see if they would be okay with it

If they go the "Louis/Claudia imagined this/made it up/misremembered the events" route, I think that's a questionable at best and offensive at worst narrative to put forth about domestic violence victims since the showrunners seem to not see anything wrong with it. Portraying it is one thing, not seeing how presenting domestic abuse as "the fallibility of memory" is pretty messed up is another

Especially considering Rolin Jones' comments after one of the episodes that he wanted to "play with race" as a white man, I find the ep 5 events combined with the dynamic in ep 6 gross as hell. It's explicitly referred to as being like a master/slave relationship, that's insane considering the stated goal of the show was to make the story modern and racially aware. Obviously AMC wants Loustat to be romantic endgame, but they're starting off with a white man basically owning his black partner and child like animals

My problems with the episode also extend to Claudia's sexual assault. Again, not something that was in the book at all but rather added by a white male creator because I guess that's the only way women are allowed to face adversity in media. Claudia is already an incredibly tragic character, that was absurd to add for what, drama? Having Daniel make cruel comments about it to Louis and having Lestat (a canon sexual assault victim) mock her for it is the cherry on top.

Overall it was just a really shitty thing for the creators to do no matter what the ultimate outcome. Several of my good friends who are book fans were extremely triggered by the scene and totally blindsided by something that felt completely gratuitous and honestly like shock bait to be edgy and generate social media buzz. Again, unbelievably tasteless.

I don't have any faith in the good intentions of the creators anymore, and that sucks because there were a lot of good things about the show before that.

#obligatory reminder that enjoying the show is fine! these are just my reasons for disliking how it went #i also don't really want to argue about it or discuss it a ton bc that's not what my blog is about! #answered #amc hot takes

[snootlestheangel]

MW3 Spoilers Below

**This is a rant about a song but it'll include MW3 Spoilers just a warning**

Moth by HELLYEAH

Surely someone's already pointed this out but this might be the most Ghost coded song out there, especially when you include the relationship he has with Soap. Even the canon one, where you can tell they're definitely friends and teammates

"I've been cast out, sequestered Pushed the fuck around Blindsided, beaten, locked up and bound Always thought I was human, but maybe I was wrong I've been treated like an animal, since the day I was born"

Like, okay, child abuse victim and tortured by the cartel. "Always thought I was human but maybe I was wrong" yeah okay "Ghost"

"The wounds that I wear are like the crown upon a king So heavy they lie, with all the pain that they bring My life's full of longing, but for what I'll never know I've been drawn into the fire as you reap what I sow"

I don't even think I have to say anything here. It's literally just Simon Riley, victim of everything, having to keep fighting cause it's all he has left. Become the Grim Reaper so you don't get reaped yourself.

"Like a moth to a flame, my wings burn away When things are too beautiful, I smash them to pieces The more that you love me, insecurity releases I'll be the one that's to blame, so I'll sell my soul to a blaze Like a moth to a flame, like a moth to a flame"

"The more that you love me, insecurity releases" So SoapGhost coded I'm sorry

"The ruler of the kingdom that ends up the pawn So tired of thinking of where it all went wrong Friendships, they come and go and sometimes they end Wouldn't dream in a million years that this would be one of them"

"Friendships they come and go and sometimes they end, wouldn't dream in a million years that this would be one of them" LITERALLY SOAP'S DEATH IN MW3! Like, they're clearly friends, they've got something there, and so Ghost, who has lost everyone until now, finally has a friendship that's worth hanging onto, a friend he's confident nothing will happen to. And then BAM! He's suddenly kneeling next to said friend's lifeless body wondering where it all went wrong.

"Faith in the life, belief 'til the end Failure's not an option, but the options exist I gave up my everything, I give 'til I bleed Take it all, take everything, just take it from me"

Guys is this is so them!!! Even as a friendship perspective and not romantic partners!!

"You're pushing me, I'm pushing back Falling down, my heart attacks Compassion is lost No more hope, no more trust I tore it down and burnt it up All faith is gone"

Ghost, who feels there's nothing left in life after losing his best friend, his ride-or-die Soap, his Johnny, just wanting to burn the world down cause he's lost all faith in good things ever happening to him again

"I'm not a hero or a villain, not a god, I'm just a man Staring through the hourglass at the footprints in the sand I'm stripping off my armor, my battles here are done Wave my white flag to surrender And fly into the sun"

Despite earning the name "Ghost", he's reminded he's still just a human being. He's finally reached his limit after losing Johnny, so here he is, standing in the aftermath of the world he's burned and ready to burn with it.

It's just such a Simon "Ghost" Riley song and I desperately needed to share

#mw3 spoilers #ghost coded song #moth by hellyeah is Simon “Ghost” Riley #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap

[the-owl-tree]

I know it’s unpopular and ig would be seen as chronically online but. a little annoyed at the “UGH 🙄 and here come THOSE people” @ comments those being horrified abt Frostpaw being spayed and connecting it to real life events like bipoc being sterilized against their will. I personally am not one of those people, nor do I think it’s anywhere near that serious or on that level bc I thought it was an interesting turn in the books, but as a black afab myself who would most definitely face forced sterilization if I were not a more privileged individual, (because you know the health system itself loves to play around with our bodies like science experiments as though we cannot physically feel pain) I’m gonna need the yt warrior cats fans to cut it out w the snide superiority complex on “lesser takes” and understand there’s people who are gonna reasonably draw comparisons to these events and see how incredibly horrifying it is what the anthropomorphic cat just went through. not to hit a fucking beehive but why is it acceptable to understand the harmful impacts of misogyny in the series affect people in the real world but misoginoir is taking a step too far?

discourse on bumble being a domestic abuse victim has people understanding and drawing comparisons between that and real life events but we draw the line when woc are brought up. okay. why?

this isn’t at you btw because you generally have nuanced takes and take the time to consider what people are actually saying but like. what’s going on here I’m genuinely blindsided by people rolling their eyes. it is an issue. it’s a huge issue and it’s still happening in places! can’t speak for other countries but it’s still legal on a federal level in the U.S where I live and in my state. my problem isn’t the people drawing comparisons with Frostpaw. my problem is the reaction to that. I don’t understand why one systematic issue can be discussed and the other not without scrutiny and handled as though it’s not as serious topic.

also to note: I am aware that Frostpaw being spayed was not based on any perceived race or ethnicity. I am aware that this was simply for shock value (as of the moment, anyway ((which is what makes it worse imo but that’s another convo))) and I am aware that I cannot speak on behalf of anyone facing this issue but myself and cannot reasonably say that anyone drawing these conclusions will always 100% take the matter as seriously as needed. however I can say that it is a bit difficult for me to accept that in a world where each character has human intelligence, thoughts wishes and feelings, that the concept of forced sterilization, abhorrent and frightening outside of normal cat understanding, frankly should be handled with the utmost care able to be expended. I know it will not be. I am aware. the authors have a history of using their personal bias to push racist narratives before. I understand that people are saying handle the subject with tact and maturity. I just do not believe it is the right or position of a mostly white fanbase to police the discussion of what happens to women of color because we are often spoken over as is. I hope that I have made my point clear? I’m not the best at explaining myself over subjects I’m passionate about, so I may have tripped over my words a bit. I do apologize if it came off as talking in circles

I'll admit, when I first read the spoilers and learned what happened, I drew some connections but I also agree that it's not nearly on that level. But I think it would be wildly inappropriate if I tried to talk on that as a white person.

I don't have much to add, but I think you've raised some pretty understandable concerns and you're very clear in your points, I didn't have any trouble following you! I genuinely have a lot of concerns about the plotline and I think you're right that it's important to be open about these discussions.

#ask to tag #i do apologize i don't have anything really substantial to add #but i don't know enough or am in a position to really be spearheading these conversations #i have my own concerns about the misogyny that i expect to follow #but i think it's very fair for people to see a plot like this and draw connections to other experiences

[pinketine]

I think it'd be unfair to my younger self who'd loved Wilbur since Soothouse and my self of last week who loved RTSoot if I didn't make a final post saying my piece and giving myself closure.

As I've said earlier, I won't be supporting Wilbur anymore, as the memories will be too bitter, and his apology when compared to Shelby's story comes off as completely insincere. I'm aware of the difference between c and cc, but the lines are way too blurred in this case for me to feel comfortable.

Furthermore, I'm not mad at myself or anyone else for loving his content or missing any red flags. A lot of us were young, and found deep connection with his candidness about the uglier sides of mental health. He was also charismatic, and made good, enjoyable content. It's not a sin to say a bad person is talented, or made good things. It's more productive than anything else, because labelling all bad people in a certain way just makes you more likely to be blindsided. Don't feel guilty, you didn't know.

In addition, I thoroughly despise any arm chair diagnosing/demonisation of Wilbur's mental health. It's ableist to try and say he has a cluster b personality disorder, full stop. No mental condition makes someone an abuser. Also, Wilbur isn't a bad person because his mental health led to him not taking care of himself, he's a bad person because he's an abuser. While poor mental health can make someone lash out, it's disingenuous to remove Wilbur's agency in violating Shelby's boundaries and the like by blaming it all on his poor mental health.

I also think you guys need a bit more nuance when regarding how others didn't speak up about Wilbur's abuse until Shelby did. On one hand, some people probably were complicit in it up until it was safe to start virtue-signalling. On the other, some others might've been gaslit or manipulated or were simply too scared to speak out against one of the biggest, most beloved names in the sphere. Some people may have not even known about it. And even the people who haven't said anything, that doesn't mean complacency, or that they support him. They might still be reeling, or in denial, or gathering their thoughts.

At the end of the day, I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but we don't know these streamers. This is to say both that you shouldn't assume that they could never be horrible, and that you shouldn't assume everyone in the mcyt sphere is horrible. It's a large community, and every community has people, some more vile than others. That's just the nature of humanity.

Of course, the most important part is supporting victims, especially Shelby. She has been incredibly brave, and revealing something so awful to help protect and warn others is so very kind as well. This is about her, first and foremost.

Everyone make sure to take care of yourselves, this has definitely been hard for a lot of people. 💗

#sorry if i misphrased anything #i tried to be as succint as i could #wilbur situation #tw abuse #505 radio

[competitivedust]

Hello ✌✌

I know I'm kind of a bit late, I just found out anti tags are actually a thing. I just wanted to say that I love Fitz but at the same time I don't (for obvious reasons) and I wish his stans would actually stop using him being sick as an excuse. Like sure that was bad and he really needs professional help but given their situation at that moment they couldn't, and I'm pretty sure his stans are forgetting that he said he doesn't regret doing it and to mention, he wasn't having a psychotic break when he said that.

And also I'm sick and tired of people siding with Fitz when he said "do you want me to recall all the times that you did?" Like, the times where Daisy "turned her back against them" was because she was manipulated and swayed and she "left them" because maybe she thought that was safer for them. (Don't forget she was having suicidal thoughts and was having withdrawal from Hive)

Like sir??? Turn her back against them??? What about all the times when you ALMOST GOT DAISY KILLED??? (When Fitz jumped into the monolith for an example)

Also I'm kinda pissed that no one went on to comfort Daisy, hell not even Jemma. She only cares if Fitzsimmons are still together or not

I still love the Bus Kids but I deserve the fitzdaisy closure. They could make a whole episode about fitzsimmons in s6 but couldn't for fitzdaisy.

Sorry if this is long 😬😔

Hey nonnie! See I used to love Fitz too. But it was with the assumption that he isn't perfect and lately his behaviour with the team has been getting problematic and that most fans realise that.

Finding out they don't was an experience.

I actually came across a thread on reddit a while back where they were hailing the "do you want me to recall all the times that you did" as such a gotcha against Daisy. And then listing all the times that "she turned her back on them". Which consisted of her trying to help Miles in season 1 (the guy she obviously knew longer and she didn't owe them anything at that point, moreover she turned against him when she realised what he'd done), her siding with Jiaying (completely ignoring the fact that her mom who she had been looking for forever manipulated and lied to her and that SHIELD themselves blindsided her by sending Gonzalez when they were actually expecting Coulson, and still she saw through it all and chose to fight her mother), that time she was under Hive's sway (I don't think I need to elaborate on this), that time she went rogue in s04 (once again not caring that she was grieving Lincoln's death and was freshly free of mind control, lost and suicidal and needed help, not a yelling).

And not to mention that not once did she do anything remotely similar to ambushing a member of the team, strapping them to a table and cutting into them. False equivalencies much?

For a show that's all about empowered women, they not only let a white man get away with violating an Asian woman, but also let him flip the story, discredit her as a victim. These tactics are what domestic abusers use. They make their victim feel as if what happened to them was their own fault. So guess Fitz is a classic abuser now. Good luck with that Jemma.

But hey the fans have decided that Fitz can do no wrong, and the show creators have a huge part to play in that. So really at this point I am not even sure who pisses me off more, the fandom or Whedon and Maurissa.

But honestly I wish I had interacted with fans like you instead of the raging a-holes who were bitching about Daisy being a hardass to Fitz. So thank you for the ask, and for giving me your very nuanced take on the whole thing.

#agents of shield #daisy johnson #anti fitzsimmons #anti leopold fitz #aos critical #anon ask #probably my first #but I really liked it turns out

[withacapitalp]

i’m gonna be real here, and i mean this in the kindest way - i loved your wayne & steve series so much when i first read it, and i just stumbled on it again and saw it was still updating and thought ‘now why didn’t i subscribe???’ and then went back to reread and catch up, and then i got to the end of the fifth fic and remembered why - it seemed like you were turning it into one of those fics where billy is a rapist, who abused & assaulted steve, & you didn’t tag that you would be using him as a villain, and in your end notes you said that arc would feature heavily in your next fic, but then i go to that fic and i don’t see any relevant tags or warnings and i didn’t want to read and get even more attached and then be caught off guard, again, by such a harsh depiction of one of the characters without any warning.

idk. i get that a lot of people don’t like billy, and that’s fair and it’s up to everybody which characters they do and don’t jive with. it’s not even like i haven’t read and enjoyed fics where billy is set firmly as a villain or presented in a really 2 dimensional way, because i have. but it’s different when you go into a fic, wanting to read about a certain dynamic and certain characters, and are blind-sided with hate towards another character that you like - especially when the author has decided to depict that character sexually assaulting somebody and implies that the character is a repeat sexual predator. that’s really heavy to be sort of thrown into on a fic where you’re not expecting to see that character at all, you know?

like i said, i really enjoy most of your fics and i think you’re a great writer. i guess i’m just disappointed that i’ve now TWICE had the experience of happily reading your fic and then being blindsided by such a dark depiction of a character who wasn’t even tagged. it’s really disconcerting and upsetting. ao3 has a great tagging system and i wish you’d chosen to use it a bit more effectively, i guess.

looking at your sixth fic in that series, it’s not tagged for domestic violence, sexual assault, anything like that, and it also has no tags for billy, a past steve/billy relationship, or even just a general ‘this fic is not billy friendly’ tag. looking at it i’d never think you’d have any of that sort of content in it, especially because you DID tag for /other/ potentially triggering content, but then in the end notes of the fifth fic you said that the sixth fic would deal very much so with that introduced plot line. it just sucks because i’d probably read it if i didn’t feel so much like i was clicking on a youtube jump scare video.

Long ask and long reply so I'm going to put my thoughts under a read more but TL:DR This is the kind of constructive criticism that is incredibly valid, and I appreciate your courage and energy that you put into writing all this. Also I'm going to get slightly personal here so if you don't want to read that just continue on

This is like, strangely, the fourth or fifth ask I've gotten about A New Perspective today, which has forced me to look at it again and admit to myself why I stepped away from it.

I use my fics to work through a lot of my own personal things. This fic series and the relationship that Billy and Steve have in it is based entirely on a real life relationship I had with an ex. They have an incredibly complicated sexual relationship that is inherently unhealthy for both of them. Not just Steve. Not just Billy. Steve does not think of himself as a victim, he sees himself as the problem. In reality it's both of them. I think Billy Hargrove is a really interesting character, I don't talk about him a lot here because he's really divisive in the fandom, and I don't need to get involved in Billy drama tbh.

For this fic he isn't the villain to Steve, even if he might seem like a monster, and I hope that gets across when I eventually come back to this series. I took a break from it for a lot of reasons, but part of it is needing to reevaluate what I'm getting out of writing it, and if it's healthy for me. I don't know if this is an exceptionally harsh depiction of Billy, it's not necessarily positive, but it does have a lot of different layers. Finding a nuanced way to portray that relationship (and a way to work through my own thoughts and feelings about mine) isn't easy, but I don't really think I write it in a two-dimensional way. I'm not sure if you were saying I did, but if you were, I'll just have to respectfully disagree and leave it at that.

As for tags, well this one I just have to own up and say I'm sorry. I didn't really know how to tag it, because I still didn't know what to consider for them. I don't really know how to consider my own relationship, which is what this is based on. So tagging it with things like sexual abuse or with things like SA...I don't know I just haven't worked through if it would even be considered that?

Regardless of my personal journey with my writing though, there's outside readers who have their own journeys. It's something that you explained in a really clear way, so I appreciate that you took the time to make me see where I was leaving a gap. I don't want people to think it was intentional? I don't think of my fics as a 'YouTube jumpscares' but more as a complicated web of a lot of things I work through in my own mind.

I put the note on my fifth fic to let people know that there would be a lot of complicated stuff going on, and so they could choose to opt out or not, but I understand that wasn't enough. If anyone got triggered or upset by what I wrote, then I do sincerely apologize for that. We talk a lot about curating your own online experience, but to do that you also have to be properly prepared for the experiences you go into. Where I didn't help contribute to that is on me.

As for people who might be worried about the series mentioning this a lot after this? It won't. I work through things in my own way, and I knew I wanted to make this part of Steve's journey, but it's not his entire journey. After this there's just a lot of fluffy parts like the first few one shots again. This was just something I needed for myself.

It's funny, I owe that series a lot, but I honestly just kind of hate it right now.

I don't really know if 'being blinded by hate' is really fair to say about the relationship I'm trying to portray, because I don't hate Billy and neither does Steve. There's love there, and a wish for something better that they'll never get to have, and I hope that you can stick with it to see how it all plays out. I like to think I'm writing for more than just bashing on a character. As for just dropping it in, well I've known what I want to do this entire time, but I can understand where people would come from thinking it was just dropped in.

I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but don't forget, writers are just humans too. We do things and we make mistakes, and this was just one of mine. I think I have everything properly tagged on the series now? If you feel differently though, you're welcome to DM me. I don't bite. I struggle with ao3 tagging in general, so I'm always grateful when anyone suggests tags I should be adding. Someone told me today I should add a genderfluid Steve tag to my latest fic, and I didn't even realize I forgot to.

Anyways. Long and probably too personal, but I figured I wanted to explain best I could. If you don't care about any of that, well, the tags got added.

#personal #Like really fucking personal #I don't really wanna debate about billy #so please no one try to come talk to me about him #tw: sa mention #tw: abuse #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: domestic violence #but anon thank you for taking the time to write all that #I am....a little overwhelmed currently #Liam speaks up

[fairy25]

odd question maybe but it's genuinely sent in good faith: i notice you posting negatively about your mother and i relate in that i also blame my mother for a lot of stuff. however, in recent years i've learned her shortcomings mostly stem from a lot of trauma caused by men/misogyny. to what extend do you think we should be forgiving towards our mothers, as at least in my case was a victim too, and to what extend, in your opinion, can we really blame them for how they turned out? obviously i do realise abuse is abuse. but i have been struggling with knowing where to put blame when deep down i know my mom never knew any better.

sending love!

I don't have a neat blanket response to this because I don't think there is one. I think every mother-daughter relationship is going to be different and it's really up to you how much you choose to forgive your mother (if at all). You can argue that our mothers never knew any better, but I don't buy into that. I don't believe that you can abuse a child and have no inkling that what you're doing is wrong. Yes, you can be traumatized and scared and indoctrinated but does that mean being abusive to a child is excusable? No, never. I would never treat a child the way my mother treated me, and that is reflective of her own lack of moral character and fortitude. That is not reflective of her trauma, that is part of who she fundamentally is as a person. And I'm not fucking impressed.

The thing is, my mother didn't stop being abusive just because she can no longer abuse me. She still thinks like an abuser. She still wants to dominate, I'm just bigger and stronger and meaner than her now and she'll lose every time. She still makes comments about my looks (either I'm showing her up and making her look bad by looking good or I'm greasy and disgusting looking if I go a few days without washing my hair). She still minimizes the abuse I suffered unless she can frame herself as the victim (only focusing on how traumatized SHE is by my trauma and how SHE is affected by it, never about how I feel or was affected by it). She has allowed every man she's ever been with to abuse me in some way, I think she feels a bit of a comradery about it. I do think there's quite a bit of jealousy my mother feels towards me and she likes playing into that. But then she's stunned when these same men start putting her down and abusing her, and suddenly she's blindsided and never saw this coming and looks to me for support. I offer none. I also loudly defend myself to her now and she hates that (I've screamed "SHUT THE FUCK UP" into her face on multiple occasions). She's all empty threats after all. I mean what's she going to do, she's disabled in her 60s and I'm in my 20s, able-bodied and out for blood.

There's so many more examples I could list out but I guess what I'm getting at is do you think your mom is an abusive person at her core? Is abuse fundamental to who she is? Because for my mother, abuse is all she knows. She lives and breathes it. To this day, I still refuse to let any of my friends meet her. I was terrified as a kid that if my friends met her, she'd turn them against me, make them hate me as much as she did. I spent holidays with my friends or I'd get drunk/high alone. There was no sense of family or love there, ever. I cried and screamed and hated and destroyed myself for so many years wishing and pleading to god that I could have a mother who would believe me, who would defend me, who would save me, who would like me. But eventually I stopped. I got cold. I got tired. I got quiet. I got scary. I no longer seek compassion from her. I don't open up about anything personal. She now has nothing left to threaten me with.

Do I hate my mother? No. Do I love her? No. Do I see her as a victim? Abso-fucking-lutely not, I think she sees herself as enough of a victim for everyone. Do I think her trauma is relevant to our relationship? No, not really. What do I stand to gain from feeling sympathetic towards her? I only open myself up to being hurt. I'm not even angry with her anymore, or disappointed. I don't really "blame" her even, I just feel nothing.

#mothers

[invertedfate]

Huh that one anon bringing up Flowey’s mental age is interesting because I was thinking about it the other day. I think he’s emotionally speaking still a 13 year old, like don’t get me wrong he’s able to mask very well but I think thats literally it. He’s gone through so many resets that he matured his ability to mask his true feelings but because there’s never any consequences for him (bc reset) he’s basically become an entitled brat lol. He is very people smart it seems when it comes to anything that doesn’t involve himself however seems to lack massively on the introspective department causing him to be easily emotionally blindsided. I’d also assume he’s read everything in the underground so he probably has a lot more knowledge compared to a 13 year old. It’s interesting to think about lol.

Yeah, that sums it up rather well! It's why, even if he DID end up resetting for more than 4 - 5 years (the exact amount is still a bit ???, but certainly not centuries), his emotional maturity has stagnated hard. He's refusing to look inside himself and realize that he might be the problem. He's assuming that he knows what Chara needs, putting his own idea of what's right before theirs. It's very, very selfish. He's been Flowey for so long that he's forgotten what it's like to genuinely do something for others without an ulterior motive.

It's certainly sad, since had he revived with a healthy sense of compassion, he likely wouldn't have gone down this path, but it was also his choice TO walk a path where he started treating the world like his play thing and killing and screwing around with people for funsies. He is a victim, but he also had his own autonomy in his choices, which puts him in an interesting place.

A lot of people took what happened in Part 61 VERY harshly and have condemned him outright. Personally, I feel like that's a bit harsh, especially when everything he did was... pretty in line for him, being real. Even in Undertale, he had really cruel, wicked, and backstabbing moments. The difference is that, like how we spent more time with Undyne as an antagonist, we are also spending more time with Asriel as an antagonist, so it puts those negative attributes in greater focus than the relatively short final battle in Undertale.

I think it's a phenomenon very similar to Undyne because I distinctly remember some people trying to say that IF Undyne was abusive to Papyrus and Alphys. o_O While I do think there was absolutely some toxicity in the way she handled the Frisk situation and some of her kneejerk reactions (e.g. interrupting Alphys' call and snapping at Papyrus), I think people also forgot like... how she repeatedly told Alphys it wasn't her fault and likewise with Papyrus. She absolutely endangered Papyrus tons of times, and her actions totally hurt Alphys by proxy, so I GET it.

But I feel like these kinds of simplified takes miss a lot of the nuance, and I hope that as we move into the final arc, people will be patient and wait to see where I'm going with the Asriel plot. There's a lot I hope to explore.

#asks #flowey #asriel