#anyway support abuse survivors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

25% of US internet users with an annual income of $80-100K use Tumblr.

#anyway support abuse survivors

axolotlclown · 3 months

Text

We need to remember that Shubble stated that Wilbur would manipulate and gaslight friends and family. With this, we must be patient with streamers that were close to Wilbur. This was likely surprising and shocking for them. They may need time to come to terms with what has happened.

I have been vocal about how important it is for men to be critical about abusive behaviors. However, Wilbur had many close friends—some would even consider him family—and now they may feel they hardly knew him at all.

There is a deep stress felt by viewers. It is difficult to think we have given any amount of time or money to an abuser. Could you imagine a close friend right now? The pain and betrayal must sear. They need time to understand what has happened and come to terms with it. Many of them may not be live in the coming days (weeks even).

That being said, as time passes, criticism may be necessary. Complacency is not an option. Men that are willing to ignore abuse to protect an abuser are just as pathetic as the abusers themselves.

Let's give this situation time to breathe. I ask that we give patience and courtesy to those close to Wilbur at this time. But please do not forget that this happened. There may be a few streamers hoping to lay low and then drop a collab in a few months. Do not let them. This is too important.

#for now #the best thing we can do is spread awareness about abuse and offer support to domestic violence victims #i also want to add #that any previous art made about him was made with pure intentions #obviously its up to each individual to decide where the line is #but maybe lets not support him monetarily moving forward #that seems to be the move #anyway #please be kind to each other and give each other space #especially domestic violence survivors that may be here with us #and those who may have realized they were/are abused from shubbles story #i want to offer her and everyone around as much support as i can #if any domestic violence survivers have any stories they want to share #my dms and askbox are open #if anyone suspects that someone in their life may be abusing someone #this offer is open to you too #we need to talk about this #thoughts of dante #wilbur soot #shubble #im tagging this under shubble even though the post isnt really about her but i want the tags of this post to reach #whoever needs to read them

875 notes · View notes

etz-ashashiyot · 2 months

Text

I know I'm gonna regret posting this, but I just can't not say something: I'm so sick of people who are actively contributing to the ongoing oppression of and violence against Palestinians calling themselves "pro-Palestinian."

In the same way that so many people in the anti-abortion movement are actually pro forced birth rather than pro-child, there are a lot of you who aren't pro-Palestinian, you're just violently antisemitic or in it for yourselves.

If you aren't:

Also angry with the other countries that abuse their Palestinian populations, refuse them citizenship, keep them in displaced person camps under horrific conditions, and/or close their borders entirely to them;

In support of genuine grassroots movements that aim to create some kind of stability, peace, and safety through diplomatic relationships and community building, because that's ""normalization"";

Willing to condemn antisemitism in the diaspora, which helps fuels right-wing rhetoric in Israel;

Willing to shut down lies, propaganda, and disinformation even if it "supports" Palestinians in theory, because lying repeatedly associates the Palestinian movement with lying and makes it harder for survivors to tell their actual stories and be believed outside of the far left movements (and also the truth is bad enough - there's no need to lie);

Willing to focus on practical problem solving over political posturing, especially when it will save Palestinian lives;

Willing to condemn Hamas, which started this most recent disaster, steals aid meant for civilians, uses civilians as human shields, and has been torturing dissenters for years;

Willing to work with Israeli leftists who hate their current government and want peace and full equality for Arab Israelis and their Palestinian neighbors, and also have the best shot at making that change happen; and/or,

Willing to learn about Palestinians as living human beings and value their lives over using them as a political cudgel, whatever that looks like on the ground;

.............then maybe you're more interested in looking radical and jerking off to some fantastical version of The Revolution, and/or hurting Jews than you are in promoting peace, safety, dignity, and self-determination for Palestinians.

Like seriously with "friends" like these, do they even need enemies??

Anyway you should call out the Israeli government for its very real abuses of Palestinians and nothing in this post should be construed otherwise. But if you genuinely care and aren't just in it for internet cool points or leftist cred or feeding your Jew-hate boner or whatever, you gotta prioritize solutions that have a realistic shot at short-term relief and long-term possibility over whatever fits some idealistic goal that will only ever end with more dead Palestinians.

#this post is probably gonna get me drawn and quartered by both ''sides''#but idfc #I'm right #I should've added:#instead of fixating on Jews‚ a tiny minority in the world‚ why don't you focus on Christian 'Zionists' who outnumber us significantly?

849 notes · View notes

iloveyouemanuelmarco · 3 months

Text

I don't understand how Vivziepop still has a fanbase anymore that unironically still supports her after all the scenarios of controversy where she brushes it off as petty internet drama from "petty envious antis" atleast before she runs off into her crowd of chronically online and discourse obsessed problematic adults on any social media platform(Mostly Twitter to be specific but still)who are just a group of yes-men for her to use to attack not even only children on the interwebs who just happen to be uncomfortable with the fandom she's cultivated over her career of a wannabe artist and animator, but other adults too who by the way are somewhat consisting of survivors of abuse, rape, are LGBTQIA+, BIPOC, neurodivergent/disabled and possibly more. It honestly makes me sad as it does angry because the concept of the show isn't that crazily impossible in my opinion atleast and it could of had so much potential to do way better if not only the obvious subject matters were treated with much more care in an attempt to rework the scripts but also if Viv didn't do half of the stuff she did just a bad person in general. Like...is that really the best you can do for your fanbase???You cannot be not-joking atleast a little bit when you're telling me that apparently not only are children not being stopped from engaging with an 18+ rated show(even though the amount of vulgar language is done so poorly that it could pass of as your average failed Newgrounds animation), but that they're literally being encouraged to interact with the fandom???Are you out of your mind???Don't even get me started on the other stuff that you all probably already know about such as the blatant mockery of S.A., abusive relationship dynamics, hypersexuality in victims of said scenarios that happen irl, having other such "jokes" including some sort of rapey scene at all and having someone who actively and openly supports "non-con" fiction???!!!! What is wrong with you people??And apparently I have to share the home of the beautiful planet Earth with these idiots choosing to have the cognitive dissonance and brain function of an almost-empty and dusty old peanut...Along with the fact that the woman herself treats her animators at Spindlehorse Productions(her studio I suppose)like utter dog-dung, she has proven to drag anyone who defies her problematic and dare I say dangerous behavior through the mud and gets away with it all because of her stans/fans making her the "face of independent animation/indie animators". I honestly feel so awful for those who may have genuinely looked up to her at one point, atleast not knowing how much of a horrible person she was behind the scenes of the computer screen but its whatever anyways I guess. If any aspiring makers of cartoons or comics(LGBTQIA+/BIPOC/Disabled preferred) would like to promote the stuff they male down below in my comments section than feel free☆. It's the least anyone can do under the storm that's being made and has happened for such a long time ughh. The project should have been attempted a little more to be prevented from the confines of those echo-chambery and gross parts of fandom-centric social media communities and It's so discouraging how long this has been going on too, but hey. She's the lady that unironically made a literal pedo character that she attempted to present as a villain while just having the original character end up as a sort of "cool af bad-girl aesthetic uwu" character. Oh my fucking God please stop at once I swear to the highest Heavens and the deepest, most darkest depths of Hell(Ironic).

197 notes · View notes

bougiebutchbinch · 6 months

Text

I do appreciate 'softer' interpretations of canon where everything is happy and nothing hurts. I think these headcanons and rewrites of characters have a huge and important place within fandom. This is not to say anything against people who prefer this sort of content.

But.

When I love a fucked-up character, I love the whole character, warts and all.

So.... a massive grateful shout out to the writers and creators who acknowledge that Ed was abused by his father, but don't shy away from the fact that Ed struggles to care for his crew. Thanks to the writers who acknowledge that he made terrible abusive choices towards his crew that there would realistically be consequences of, but this doesn't mean he's beyond changing - he can still choose to do better and can confront his own actions & his fear of becoming his father. He is worthy of love and support throughout this journey (though this absolutely shouldn't be expected to come from his victims).

Thanks to the writers who acknowledge that Stede survived his father's abuse and some truly atrocious childhood bullying - but also remember that he is a cis white ablebodied man born to extreme privilege, who needs to be reminded on occasion that piracy is not a game and that his crew are the lives he is gambling with when his plans veer even more dangerous than normal. That he started off as a class tourist, and is still very much learning what life is like outside of his circle of the landed gentry, even if he's throwing himself into piracy with adorable enthusiasm.

And thanks to the writers who portray Izzy as a victim of Ed's abuse, as he is in canon, and who also continue to depict him in all his twisted, messy, bitter glory: a man inured to violence, who warped himself to fit a crueller world of piracy than the one we see in the show, who enabled many of Ed's darker choices in S1 and pre-canon (although... he didn't make him do shit. 'I fed your darkness' =/= 'I made you abuse your crew, myself included', holy crap). Who is still learning to accept the kindness of others without biting every outstretched hand. Who was an imperfect man and is an imperfect survivor, but is a survivor nevertheless.

In short: Gimme all your flawed 'unloveable' characters, and watch me love them anyway.

#the izcourse #izzy hands #blackbonnet #steddyhands #ofmd #our flag means death #ed teach #ofmd stede #the edcourse #stede bonnet #ofmd izzy #ofmd edward teach #gentlebeard #my thots #fandom meta #ofmd meta

287 notes · View notes

spacedustmantis · 1 year

Text

list of shipnames in jrwi and who they are referring to

this is (and probably forever will be) a work in progress. i plan on expanding this list with any and all shipnames i come across, so if you want to see the up-to-date list, make sure to open the original post. also feel free to send me shipnames that are missing from this list to my inbox or over dms.

note: not all of these are extremely common or in circulation quite yet, but you might encounter them every now and then anyways.

note x2: for some of these ships there are multiple names in use, i tried to sort them by how common they are (most common to least common)

‼️ important disclaimer! this is an archival work, meant to list as many ship names as possible for a variety of uses. this means this list does include ships that might be triggering for some. regardless of my feelings about it, abusive, unrealistic, or violent ships as well as underage and incest are pretty much always a facet of fandom, and as such they are represented here, partially to give people the necessary information to be able to circumvent being confronted with said content (e.g. via muting tags) should they want/need to. ‼️

riptide:

pc/pc

fish and chips (fnc): chip/gillion

navyseal: jay/gillion

mockingjay/phoenix: chip/jay

poly pirates: chip/jay/gillon

pc/npc

catnip: chip/la alma

sailorsong/scarlet captains: chip/jazz

fools gold/bargaining chip: chip/niklaus

drunken sailors: chip/caspian

chiptune/chipped crown: chip/queen

stoneflame: chip/igneous

midnight memories: chip/drey

homeowners association: chip/ensa

tboy polycule: chip/jazz/igneous

birdbolt/clockwork rivals/women in STEM: jay/ensa

pistolwhip: jay/lizzie

sharpshooter: jay/kira

bloodshot: jay/anastasia

sheshells: jay/edyn

artemisanchor: jay/aslana

bloodbath: jay/anastasia/aslana

jay's harem/let's go lesbians: jay/her many girlfriends (ever changing, always evolving)

swordfish: gillion/caspian

dealbreaker: gillion/niklaus

sea shanty: gillion/queen

goldfish/dragonfish: gillion/clorten

sunken anchor: gillion/marshal john

destined sails: gillion/caspian/marshal john

fish and chips and more fish: chip/gillion/caspian

manlet, manwhore, manslayer: chip/gillion/niklaus

sea sharp: chip/gillion/queen

deal with the devil (dwtd): chip/jay/gillion/niklaus

bardic inspiration: chip/jay/gillion/queen

full ensemble: chip/jay/gillion/queen/jazz

npc/npc

drearl: drey/earl

watergun: drey/finn

old man yaoi/drearlinn: drey/finn/earl

cattlepunk: drey/ichabod

roseshot: drey/captain rose

metal detector/gunmetal/robopanda: alphonze/gryffon

popshot: gryffon/queen

precious metals: gryffon/igneous

seawitch: niklaus/edyn

frigatebird/warbird/waning crescent: lizzie/ava

fighting chance/boxer briefs: la alma/clorten

naval orange: marshal john/amanda rinn

message in a bottle: marshal john/edyn

rose tides: lizzie/edyn

rosewater: lizzie/caspian

lunar eclipse/sea serpents: ava/lizzie/edyn

smoothjazz/singing the blues: jazz/caspian

jam session: jazz/queen

saltwater pearl: caspian/edyn

soundwaves/sea shanty: caspian/queen

hammer to fall/songsmith: queen/alasse

lamprey: anastasia/aslana

starcrossed survivors/starstruck: zamia/star

apotheosis:

pc/pc

angelstone/stonesong: peter/rumi

deicide: rumi/thanatos

tech support: peter/thanatos

eldritchstrings: rumi/exandroth

pc/npc

divineshifter/shape4shifter: rumi/rhymir

prime defenders:

pc/pc

ghostknife: william/vyncent

ghostkicks/blue raspberry: william/dakota

dancebattle/spacejam: vyncent/dakota

revenant/wispy winters/evildead: william/ashe

tomeblade/gamecube/demondagger: vyncent/ashe

demonkicks: dakota/ashe

polypd: william/vyncent/dakota/ashe

pc/npc

decharge/soulfire: william/doug

sunghost/sunshade: william/summer

parasol: william/vyncent/summer

spare the dying/exquisite corpses: william/cantrip

ghostlysigns: william/jimmy

npc/npc

tidalwave: tide/mark winters

suntrip: summer/cantrip

doodlejump/pencilfrog: le frog/pencilman

cops and froggers: le frog/officer frank

zebrafish: tide/harlem

car manual: wordsmith/pretender

shooting star: mrs g/lightspeed

shadowfold: harlem/jason

blood in the bayou:

pc/pc

keeperschampion: rand/rolan

rollingstones: kian/rolan

smokeshow: kian/rand

nightmare blunt rotation (nbr): kian/rand/rolan

pc/npc

heartstrings: kian/becky

meddling kids: kian/rand/rolan/becky

bleacher ghosts: kian/becky/jesse

milf season: kian/donna

private performance: kian/donna/john

the suckening:

pc/pc

guarddog: emizel/shilo

alleycat: emizel/arthur

royal pain: shilo/arthur

boynabbing: emizel/shilo/arthur

pc/npc

fizzfangs/monster energy: emizel/soda

backalley kiss: emizel/gabriel

armored pheasant: shilo/grefgor

vampistol/shadowhorse: arthur/deacon

burnt stake: arthur/magnus

wailing crown: emizel/shilo/vex/viv

npc/npc

weylincest: viv/vex

wailing flesh: viv/vex/the unseen one

old campaigns and one-shots under the cut

mythborne

supernova: connor/aster

achilles heel: connor/ryan

sunspot: aster/ryan

spotlight: connor/aster/ryan

playwrat: connor/aster/ryan/romeo

final episode one shot

bluecherrylite: cherry/jebediah/aren

jebebriadic/ringbearers: jebediah/brian

twitch chat one shot

hoofin' it: icarus/gravel

convergence:

krangle: kasper/strangle

the fated:

br'aaxi: br'aad/taxi

scythebelts: sylnan/velrisa

kathnan: sylnan/katherine

sylgarth: sylnan/ugarth

velriana: velrisa/oriana

#jrwi #jrwi riptide #jrwi apotheosis #jrwi bitb #jrwi prime defenders #jrwi pd #jrwi blood in the bayou #buggy thoughts #silver screen #long post #cw incest

583 notes · View notes

dxxtruction · 7 days

Text

"Louis acting like a pimp to Armand" And what is a pimp exactly? Quickly. And, oh so sexual trauma survivors can't engage in kink now without it being all about that? Pet names? They can't be submissive anymore? Consensually? Sexually healthy? Be serious. I'd hardly say there's much power difference between them during all this anyway, except that Louis is freer than Armand and it's been putting a strain on their relationship. Louis wants more from Armand, and less of this 'being his past' for them both, and so helping Armand with this could fix that. It's healthy to want to help your partners get out of a rough patch?

I mean, the whole exchange was very clearly set up as a "I want to help you" after such a great moment of vulnerability Louis feels just how much Armand is desperate for it. Louis called Armand so they could work out a plan together.

And the bit with the umbrella was Louis' way of asking 'are you willing to listen to me?' and Armand said yes by unfolding it. Louis goes on and explains, Armand is allowed to argue against it, but Louis makes his point. And then he gives Armand a way to make his own choice in it too. Armand's already decided 'I want you, more than anything else in the world', but Louis still asks after if he's sure of his choice, and with a name, Arun, that is the one of his fullest agency, running the point home. Honoring the situation Armand calls Louis Maitre - as a way of being like 'I'll do as you've said then'. To make this work he's going to have to give Louis some of the control, yes. But it's the first time such a role is ever established, and it was his choice to do it. So so what if they do it in a very suggestive way? They can't like doing that? I think it's them having fun.

I struggle to find how Louis is being overly domineering here when really he's giving and offering Armand the most agency he's ever had. Same with finding it manipulative. The manipulation was more earlier in the episode I think, when he was stringing him along, giving mixed signals. He's no longer toying with him like that. Louis might be pushing Armand, leading him on to make a decision, but he doesn't mean bad by it.

But back to this pimp thing. I find it frankly offensive that this is where people are going with this. I get it, but to run with it being the case is, on many levels, wrong.

Louis told us episode 1 this was the only sustainable line of work to support his family and keep their standing, at the time. It was never his choice to be doing this either but his blackness allowed no other options. He did what he did so his family could stay in that house and maintain all their same comforts. It gave him privileges most black men didn't have at the time that he wanted to maintain and even have more of. Anyway, it doesn't and had never defined him the way 'being good at running things' had. And in that case he just likes having that kind of control where he can get it, which makes sense.

The world is what placed that kind of role onto him of what he was allowed to be able to run, not himself. And on that he actually treated the sex workers he employed well and respected them enough to give them more opportunity.** He recognizes they don't have much in the way of options either.

Louis employed sex workers, yes, but he didn't subject them to abuse, (like how Armand was)*. He didn't oversee things in a way that would go against their consent (see; episode 1 again)**. Sometimes a job is just a job. And Sex work is work.

Armand's particular past with sexual abuses may strike a particular cord with Louis, given all that, but the very last thing either is thinking is that Louis' pimping Armand out here. This is merely their decision as companions, and had nothing to do with adding another line in a laundry list of selling Armands body out to people at the command of someone else. Armand rescinds some of his control to Louis' wishes, because he wants him, and he trusts him, that's all.

If you aren't allowing Armand that choice, and are doubtful it's fully his, you're putting him right back in the box of being defined by his abuses. Putting him back into that space where he isn't given any agency over what he does. (Which is exactly opposite of what the intent of this scene is for)*.

*: (edit) added for clarity.

**: (strike through) numerous people are saying I'm misremembering these points so disregard it. (Thought he was siding with Bricks, it was the other way around). (Technically those opportunities were for getting around the law). I don't have a perfect memory, it happens. Let's not get mad about it. Doesn't change much of the point which is that Louis, now, Louis then, was always considering more about the running things and for stated purposes. So I guess I'd say he may only have respected the SWers enough sometimes for what allowed him to do that, and there are moments he certainly expressed remorse over the fact, but he has a great deal higher respect for Armand that is genuine. It's incomparable. Please read my added notes in the tags, it should address most other concerns.

#amc iwtv #iwtv spoilers #iwtv season 2 #Loumand #louis du pointe du lac #armand #interview with the vampire #IWTV #Many people are ranting about this but I'm throwing my hat in too #signed someone who went through csa and is close friends with many swers #long rant #noticing spelling errors in this after posting ffff #added note: I'm not saying armand and louis dynamic is without it's flaws or that louis was somehow without his exploitation and faults #while he was a pimp #as a pimp though he certainly wasn't going about it in the same way as what had happened in the brothel or with marius #I more so say that their very actions are of a healthier dynamic than that this is true even if they themselves are not exactly so #all for nuanced and messed up relationships that run everywhere in this show #But I still don't see it as that specific dynamic I wouldn't call it that there's just an amount of that dominence at play #neither want to be tethered to the roles they've been playing previously and they aren't entirely different for it but #are still arriving to this idea of needing something new to define themselves by and something they both want #they're exploring with this companionship that they're still trying to get a feel for #we as an audience might know they never do fully work their shit out and so are doomed but they don't at that point #last thing I guess is that I am not here to start shit it's fictional and not that serious 4 me 2 care enough 2 go after any1 #not individually no #These are just my thoughts #I heavily caution using this idea of it being like the pimp 'jumped out' or whatever for reasons above #and its racist implications as others have said more bluntly (I've implied it)#where the line on accepting the problematic is problematic yet still capable of being portrayed in fiction lies on this one?#Thats the line your going to have to draw yourself I suppose. And mine is clearly where I've put it I won't engage with this interpretation

91 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend after uncovering his web of lies?

Ok. I’m going to try keep this as short as possible, and there’s some things I’ll keep out because I don’t want to accidentally reveal our identities. I (31, m) just broke up with my partner (35,m) of 3 years. We met on an app during Covid, and lived together for 2 and a half years of that. I truly loved him, he was a challenging person which sometimes led to fiery arguments that I hadn’t experienced in past relationships, but he also pushed me to feel more comfortable with confrontation and conflict which I needed. He was also really ambitious and supported my ambitions; I’ve had 3 promotions since we got together and I wouldn’t have dared to go for them if it hadn’t been for his encouragement. Basically, on the surface it all seemed really great.

That is until I discovered he had lied about his entire past - and some of his present. It all started when I stumbled across pics of “his home” online and discovered they were a museum (he claimed to be from a wealthy background). I asked him and he said it was to protect his family’s identity and swore there were no more lies.

I have never met his family, nor talked to them on the phone - they are in another country and he claimed they were old fashioned and wanted to meet in person, but Covid was in the way at first, and then his mum was unwell. After discovering the pictures were a lie, I started to really think about other stories he’d told me and what evidence I really had for them. The more I thought, the more I realised things didn’t add up.

A few examples: his mum and dad both apparently had high profile jobs but I couldn’t find anything about them online; he claimed to be from money but wouldn’t buy himself a car and borrowed mine; he claimed to have a brother my age but I couldn’t find any social media of his.

There was a lot more, but that was enough to make me question whether there were more lies. I asked him a few weeks later why I couldn’t find anything about his parents online, and asked to be introduced to his brother on social media. I told him that this felt like the most normal thing that would happen in relationships - I was very clear that I didn’t want to test him, I just wanted some contact with someone who knew him before I did. He said it wasn’t possible because he was more distant from his family than he’d led me to believe, due to childhood abuse that his parents had refused to acknowledge. I’m also a survivor of childhood abuse so this touched a nerve and the conversation shifted to me wanting to support him and make him know I believed him.

Anyway. Fast forward another two months and nothing has changed. Tonight, it came to a head in a discussion where he wanted to get rid of my favourite chair in order to make room for a new TV. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with this because I felt insecure in the relationship as nothing had been resolved. I went over my concerns again and suddenly his whole tone shifted. He asked if I was “ready for the truth” and asked me not to share it with anyone.

The truth turned out to be very different from everything he’d said over the past 3 years. Whether it is the truth, I don’t know, but he claimed that his mum was actually a drug addict and he hadn’t known his dad until he was 18, he was removed by child services at 14 and the character he created as his mum to me was based on the woman he lived with during that time. He never studied abroad as he had first claimed, and a whole load of other lies. The worst lie was that his mum had cancer - the reason why we couldn’t visit because she didn’t want him to see her while she was weak (this made sense with the strong character her created for her). It turns out apparently the woman who took him in died from cancer when he was 18 and he based it on that. Now, I don’t even know how much of this is true, but it feels closer to the truth than the original stories. The thing is, he’s cried on me about his mums cancer, and he’s told my mum about it (a cancer survivor), and regularly talks about it in detail. In fact, all his stories have had incredible detail - which is what made us all believe them.

Now, here’s where I may be the arsehole. After he confessed all of this, I said I can’t be in a relationship with him because I can’t trust him. But he took a big step in admitting it all to me and he’s clearly very unwell if he is lying on this scale. He clearly has had a traumatic past and he told me that his lies were because any time he opens up to people about his past he loses them. I worry that by breaking up with him, I’m reinforcing this cycle where he feels he has to lie to be loved. The thing is - none of what he told me in any of this was the reason why I love him. I didn’t care where he came from, or his claims of wealth, etc. I just liked who he was as a person. I really feel torn because on the one hand he is clearly in need of help, stability and love in order to heal himself so that he doesn’t feel the need to lie. On the other hand, I can’t foresee being able to trust him in the near future. So, AITA for breaking up with someone who is so desperately in need of love and support?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

132 notes · View notes

proudproship · 8 months

Text

Not so friendly reminder that creating "dark" or "taboo" fiction can be a sign of childhood trauma!

More below the cut. Warning: long post.

TW: Mentions of trauma, child abuse, and paraphilias

Hi. I'm someone who studies psychology and sociology, and someone who also happens to have an interest in this shipping discourse stuff.

So, back to what I said a few paragraphs ago: Creating "dark" or "taboo" fictional content can be a sign of childhood trauma.

How?

When a child goes through something they consider traumatic, their brain will play the situation on repeat subconsciously, which can cause hypervigilance and symptoms of PTSD.

A common sign of PTSD in young children is that they will reenact their trauma with things like dolls, drawings, figures, and basically any other thing they can use to express their thoughts.

For example, a child who has gone through physical abuse may reenact similar things with their toys, such as making their dolls hit or yell at each other.

This symptom isn't limited to children, though. It is a symptom closely related to the presence of flashbacks and nightmares.

Many artists will create a "self-insert" character, "sona," or a character who is otherwise much like it's creator; when an artist creates a character like this and also has past trauma, their symptoms may reflect onto their character.

Projecting yourself onto characters can happen with other characters as well, even if you didn't make the character.

This is a healthy symptom. It shows that the brain is willing to become stronger from their trauma.

Reenacting trauma in ways that aren't harmful can help the brain process what happened to them, and can even help them deal with their trauma directly.

In order to heal trauma, you must know what your trauma is; you can't heal a wound you don't know you have.

While dark fiction creators are indulging in positive healing mechanisms, certain people will shun them for doing so.

"Antishippers" claim to be the "heroes" and to support healing, even though the thing that makes someone be considered and antishipper is if they're "anti healing through fiction."

Antishippers will throw the same ableist rhetorics around by claiming "if you ship adult x child you're a pedophile!" or "if you have age gap ships (even if both are consenting adults) you're a pedophile!"

This, not only is it hurting trauma survivors (especially those who have been harmed by those with paraphilic disorders), it is hurting EVERY disabled person.

Armchair diagnosis is not something anyone should do.

It is when there is little to no evidence that the condition exists within a person, though people still throw labels onto them to make them seem like they're a "bad guy." (Usually.)

This is also hurting people with actual paraphilias. Paraphilic disorder is real condition characterized by intrusive thoughts of a (usually abnormal or harmful-if-acted-on) sexual nature.

Even if someone claims to not be ableist but still demonizes and villainizes paraphilias, they're ableist.

Ableism is ableism.

And before an anti decides to call me a "pedo-apologist," go right ahead! You don't know what you're saying anyways.

There is a difference between a criminal and a disabled person.

Proship people do not support abuse. Anyone who claims to be proship but still supports abuse is NOT proship.

---

Of course anyone who makes dark content doesn't have to have past trauma.

There are many people who make dark content that don't have what they'd consider trauma, or think their trauma is unrelated to the content they create.

What if they did experience something traumatic in the future?

They'd be able to cope with it better, because they'd seen it in fiction before, so they'd know the impact of it, and how they could handle it.

Of course, not everyone who indulges in fiction will be able to handle it, though.

However, no matter if they have past trauma or not, assume the best when it comes to content creators.

They're creative and strong, and we should be thankful that they're adding onto fandom culture by just existing and doing what they love.

All people, no matter what fictional content they create, are beautiful in their own way and should be met with kindness and compassion.

Do not go out of your way to harass/abuse innocent people.

Do not go out of your way to be ableist towards content creators and content consumers.

---

Thank you for reading my long post, I hope it helped at least a bit.

Have a great day/night and stay safe, no matter your taste in fiction.

Feedback is appreciated, and reblogs are encouraged.

#tw trauma #tw abuse #tw paraphilia #proship #proship please interact #profic #anti anti #comship #proship safe #childhood trauma #para safe #reblog please

176 notes · View notes

stars-and-soda · 3 months

Text

Starting to believe there's no hope for some of you. My mother's, and many like her, worse fear in raising me is that I would be assualted and killed for being an Indigenous women like others she knows. The violence against Indigenous women impacts her, and mine, daily life. Indigenous human trafficking survivors get turned away from social services because they're whores anyway.

Poc having "reactionary" responses to race kink isn't some "puritan", anti-queer shit and it is incredibly telling that some queers act like we have to respect and accept it to be supportive of the queer community, even if we're in the queer community. It's also so fucking clear they don't stop and consider us and our well being and feelings.

"You need to actually talk to people in that kink"- what will talking to someone who gets off to the abuse and dehumanization of my people accomplish? They're not willing to listen to me or other poc about how it affects us. And everytime you do listen, they talk like there's some magic spell that stops it from being racist and somehow is completely incapable of impacting their subconscious and how poc are treated.

Any criticism white kinksters who defend raceplay have against poc who don't like it has to be weighed against the fact that we're trying not to get killed by people who say the same shit.

#soda speaks #vent #tw racism #tw assualt mention

73 notes · View notes

terrythemerry · 5 months

Text

Alma notes/logs + some of my thoughts on them.

Warning these notes are very spoiler heavy and talks about a lot of late game content.

@elffees

These are some of Alma’s easiest to find notes and on the surface they paint a picture of a kind, maternal woman worried about the kids she was forced to leave behind. Two words jump out at me in the last two notes though “sacrifice” and “choice. I’ll talk about that at the end though. The next part is where things get messy.

These are all her notes, the rest of this is going to be a bit of a rant because these last few notes are the ones that make my blood boil.

Alma never planned on rescuing them. While putting on a motherly facade she planned on leaving all of the Sarentu survivors to rot until their life support gave out. The only thing that made her act was the fact that wonderful Priya found out we were there, otherwise no one was coming for us.

Then there is how she refers to the children in “The Final Option”. She talks about all the potential glory and accolades she’ll get once she “has” them. Not when they come to her, when she possesses them. She acts like she doesn’t know in the notes, but she admits in game that deep down she knew they were going to steal the kids and killed Na’vi and let it happen anyway so she could have her little project. This is the “sacrifice” she’s trying to frame in the note “Back to Tap”. Personally I don’t see how a genocide and kidnapping is in anyway a “sacrifice”, sounds more like a war crime to me.

Last is the School Records and two things important to note are the initials in the document and the of “additional note” versus “note”. The initials show that only two people wrote in this document AC (Alma Cortez) and JM (John Mercer). Every single section degrades the children and talks about the “best” ways to manipulate them to TAP’s goals before being followed up with an “additional note” by Alma saying the opposite. The thing is I fully believe that Alma wrote the original sections and that the “additional notes” have been edited in later to try and cover her involvement in TAP.

The thing that makes me think this is Alma’s position as teacher and Mercer’s note. Alma was the one who spent the most time with the students, she’s the one who observed every aspect of their day to day, so she is the only person it would logically make sense to write about their temperaments and interests. Mercer had other things to do besides sitting around a classroom all day watching these kids, same for Harding. They’d be able to step in as discipline and for surprise inspections, but Alma was clearly the main observer. That means all the coded talk about discipline(abuse) and skills(usefulness to the RDA) is all her.

Mercer’s note was the big tip off to me that she retroactively edited the document. Mercer’s only note is that Aha’ri was killed. It was probably entered immediately after her death, because Mercer doesn’t care. He’s meticulous, organized, compulsive, etc. He doesn’t see the children as anything more than a tool so he has no shame in updating the document like it was a regular note about a generator going out. Because he entered it immediately the entry was logged as “note”.

A lot of websites will mark a comment as edited after a certain amount of time has passed. I feel like this is the case with the “note” vs “additional note”. The second giveaway is that Alma’s final note calling Mercer’s murderer is also logged as an “additional note” when there is no reason for Alma to manually input it herself. By that logic all of the additional notes were logged long after the original document was made and it’s just Alma’s way of trying to minimize her role in the abuse at TAP. This means that all of the suggested “discipline” aka brutal bone breaking and beatings was recommended by her in certain cases.

Alma isn’t a good person, she has a toxic savior complex and will go to any means to see that vision met. She might be on the right side, she might be doing good things now, but she is not a good person. Maybe she can be forgiven one day, but she’s still in toomuch denial about her own involvement to be forgiven this day.

#avatar #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #Alma Cortez #John Mercer #Avatar FOP #teylan #nor #rinela #ri’nela #avatar Alma #spoilers #avatar Mercer

62 notes · View notes

cinnamongorll · 6 months

Text

a fragile line - chapter 13

read on ao3 (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 6.3k

Chapter 13: 'First Defeat'

Juliet's POV:

Juliet’s legs were about to give out.

With each shaky step, her body threatened to crumple onto the cracked pavement beneath her. She struggled to support her own weight, let alone the hulking figure of the man draped against the left side of her body, with his arm locked around her neck.

Joel’s remaining consciousness was only visible in the slight shuffle of his feet, helping Juliet as she dragged his body along the street. Sweat soaked her forehead, dampening her hairline. Her breaths were short and rapid, a dizziness creeping into her head, staggering her brutal steps. Juliet risked a quick glance down at the pavement. Vicious red drops of blood followed them, darkening the ground in a trail of horror.

Juliet’s erratic breaths caught at the sight of Joel’s blood.

She tightened her hold on his body, her fingers digging into his side. She urged him, with the press of her torn nails against his flannel, to stay awake, to stay with her.

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead down her face as Juliet’s mind repeated the same words, anchoring her drifting thoughts back to the burning of her weakening limbs: just a few more steps, just a few more steps, just a few more steps.

Earlier that day:

“So, how’d you end up in Boston anyway?” Juliet queried in a quiet voice.

Joel’s head turned sharply towards her, irritation clear in his tight expression.

“Pass,” he responded.

Juliet sighed in a long, overly dramatic, exhale. Then she turned, glancing up at the man walking beside her. Juliet had a habit of silently inspecting his face when he wasn’t looking, her eyes would trace the stubble along his jaw, glide over the curve of his nose, and follow the fine lines around his eyes which were usually trained on the road ahead of them. This time, though, Joel’s gaze was focused on Juliet, irritation still housed within his hard features, but his eyes…. his eyes were warm, open, amused. Juliet nearly stumbled over her own feet.

She blinked, looking away.

Another week or so had passed since the high school, when Joel had stayed awake all night to make sure Juliet didn’t fall asleep. Her concussion had cleared up a few days ago but Joel was still vigilant about sleeping next to her. Juliet didn’t mind, she found that the soft sounds he made in his sleep were comforting, soothing almost. Juliet liked the reminder that he was close to her.

The road they were walking was long, and the afternoon heat was heavy. Juliet was bored, and sweaty, and as per usual, she needed a distraction. So, for the past hour, she had fired question after question at Joel, praying one would land, prompting him to share some aspect of himself with her. Juliet held every small bit of information she had gathered about him close to her chest. He was cold, lethal, and a constant mystery to her.

But, unsurprisingly, each hopeful question had bounced off of Joel as his mental shields deflected every one of Juliet’s attempts to get to know him.

Juliet decided to chase her distraction in other ways. She tilted her head around to look at the trees enclosing them on an endless road of abandoned cars and decaying houses, her mind drifting to imagine an alternate version of herself sitting on one of the porch swings. What it must have felt like to sit there and watch the daylight fade into soft oranges and pinks. She could have read her books and drifted off into her imaginary worlds with no concern for what the next day would bring, or who the next day might bring her closer to. A cold chill attacked Juliet’s bare arms despite the heavy afternoon heat. She shivered, her eyebrows pinching together.

Every day that passed was another day closer to freeing Ethan from her father. Juliet’s steps involuntarily quickened at the thought. She missed Ethan, her heart ached when the memory his pleading eyes the night she left all those years ago floated through her mind. For Ethan, Juliet would trade her remaining freedom. This was a decision she had made peace with, she always knew her freedom was never secured. Each step was another step closer to Ethan, yes, but it was also another step closer to her father. These slow days travelling with Joel were her last chance to experience life outside of the towering walls of her father’s community, her last chance to explore the ruins of life scattered around America, her last chance to smile and actually mean it.

Juliet snuck another glance at Joel, he was walking with his usual pace, his fingers tapping against his dark jeans. Joel would get her to her father, she trusted that he would, and then he would leave, use his gifted weapons to find his brother and disappear from her life forever. She would return to her prison, never to forget the sound of his irritated sigh, the hard clench of his jaw, or the look in his eyes that day at the gas station.

Joel, on the other hand, would find his brother and forget all about her, as if she never existed. As if he had never held her in his arms or wiped a tear from her cheek.

They weren’t far from Juliet’s old community now, probably another week if Joel had calculated it right. Fear threatened to settle upon her shoulders, weighing Juliet down for the remainder of their journey together. Juliet fought against it, using her familiar tactic of constant distraction to keep the terror at bay, to allow her to enjoy her last days of independence.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice called behind her.

Juliet’s feet staggered to a stop, turning to face him. She hadn’t realised he had slowed, falling behind. He had his map out, his finger tracing the roads. Juliet walked back towards him, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun. It was early autumn now, the trees had begun to turn that shade of russet orange, but the heat still remained in the air, refusing to entirely leave summer behind.

Joel’s jacket was tucked under the strap of his backpack, like her own, and the sleeves of his green flannel were rolled up, revealing his tanned forearms. His veins were bulging in the heat, Juliet kept her eyes focused on the map in his hands, blinking any time her traitorous vision would glide over his strong arms.

“What’s up?” she asked with a cough, clearing her throat.

“Heard a place up here used to be a firefly basecamp, might be worth checkin’ out for some ammo left behind,” Joel explained, using his free hand to point up a road to their right.

Their night at the high school had provided them with plenty cans of semi-edible food for the rest of their journey if they rationed right, which Joel always made sure they did. However, they were running low on ammo, dangerously low. Juliet only had a couple bullets left in her gun. She made sure to sharpen her knife last night before she fell asleep.

Juliet nodded. “Lead the way,” she replied, with a mock salute.

Joel gave her a long look before tucking his map back in his back pocket and moving to turn up the street he had pointed to. Juliet followed behind.

………………………………………………………….

“Wait, another high school?” Juliet asked, amazed. Her eyes widened as she stared at the sprawling campus they had just entered, Juliet struggled to comprehend the amount of people who must have once walked these paths and filled these buildings.

“No, a University,” Joel answered, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“Oh,” Juliet murmured, still staring at the collection of towering buildings stretching beyond her view.

“So people would go here after high school?” she asked, her curiosity overpowering her.

“Some did,” Joel replied, then started walking again, heading towards the first building. Its red bricks were drowning in moss and vines but it still looked relatively well preserved, the overgrown look actually added to its charm, Juliet thought.

“To do what?” she questioned as she raced to catch up with him.

“They lived here, went to classes and stuff,” Joel explained as they climbed the stairs towards the entrance, avoiding the thick cracks in the concrete.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Think it was just as much about partying and findin’ themselves as anythin’ else.”

“Right,” Juliet replied quickly, as if she knew what he meant.

They reached the top of the stairs and Joel released a relieved sigh as Juliet wiped more sweat off her forehead. Then she turned, looking around them. The surrounding area was eerily quiet, without the twenty years worth of greenery leaking from every brick on every building, the University would look almost normal, Juliet assumed. Well, apart from the firefly symbol spray-painted across the door of the closest building.

Joel looked down at Juliet, then nudged his head in the direction of the door before he started walking again, slower this time after climbing all those steps. Juliet stepped forward, ready to follow Joel towards the building when something darted across the corner of her vision. Juliet didn’t hesitate, she pulled out her gun and whipped it in the direction of the figure.

The safety was off and Juliet had her finger hovered over the trigger when she stopped, her body freezing in a state of shock. It wasn’t a man lurking to her left, it was a strange hairy creature that was now sprinting towards her.

Juliet would have been embarrassed to admit it, but she screamed.

She let out a loud, piercing cry and darted towards Joel. Juliet would face off any man who dared to approach her, but she didn’t fuck with whatever that thing was.

She grabbed hold of Joel’s arm who had already begun to race towards her, genuine terror on his face. Then he noticed what had spooked Juliet.

Juliet hid behind Joel’s back, her fingers bunched in his shirt. She waited for Joel to make his move, would he shoot the thing? Or pull them somewhere safe?

What Juliet didn’t expect was the sound of his laughter. Juliet felt Joel’s shoulders shake as he barked out a stunned chuckle.

“What the hell?” she murmured under her breath as she pulled away from Joel. The creature was still there, just standing staring at them, moving its weird arms. Juliet’s whole body shuddered.

Strangely, she was now more shocked by Joel’s laughter as she turned to look at his face. His features were attempting to reconstruct his usual expression of cool indifference but Juliet could still make out the amusement shining through. The lines around his eyes had crinkled and his lips were pursed, as though he was actively restraining himself from smiling.

Juliet frowned.

“What is that thing?” she demanded in a low voice, scared she’d startle it into running towards her again.

Joel looked down at her, his lip twitching when he caught sight of her shocked face.

“First time seein’ a money?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows,

Juliet smacked his arm. “Of course it’s my first time seeing a monkey, you dick,” she scoffed, stuffing her gun back in her pocket.

Joel raised his hands in mock surrender. “Must be from the old labs,” he explained, his mouth now curved in a clear smile. It made him look younger, his face softened with the hint of joy.

Juliet’s gaze bounced between the monkey and Joel for several seconds before she barked out a laugh of her own, her hands reaching up to cover her mouth as a smile overtook her serious expression. Joel dropped his hands slowly, his eyes not leaving Juliet’s warm gaze. Her laughter was loud and unrestrained. Joel took a step backwards, wiping a hand over his face to erase any remnants of his amusement. Something in her smile had startled him.

“Come on,” he murmured, then turned, striding towards the entrance.

Juliet’s smile dropped. She took one last look at the monkey before she followed Joel into the building, the cold enveloping them as they took out their guns and torches.

………………………………………………………

The door opened with a loud creak as Joel pushed against it, the handle stiff as it turned in his hand. Joel went first, walking into the large room, his head scanning the rows and rows of seats shaped in a tiered circle around half the room. Juliet gasped when she entered, she had never been in a room this big.

They had already sweeped the bottom floor, searching each room for leftover supplies. No luck yet. Joel wasn’t too worried, he told Juliet they would be more likely to find stuff in the labs. This didn’t look like a lab, though.

Joel must have seen Juliet’s confused expression. “It’s a lecture hall,” he explained. “Professors would teach hundreds of students in a room like this.”

“Wow,” Juliet whispered as she moved to stand before the enormous chalkboard at the front of the room. Then she turned, looking back at Joel, who was still scanning the room, searching for any threats.

“This make you all nostalgic?” she asked as she attempted to meet his eyes.

Joel huffed and reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “Didn’t go to University,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

“No? What did you do?” Juliet pressed, moving away from the chalkboard to hover near him.

Joel took a long minute to answer, busing himself with rifling through the papers on the desk in front of him. Then finally, he replied.

“I just did my job.”

“Which was?”

“We were called contractors”

Juliet was shocked, not by what he said, but by his decision to actually answer her questions. She bit her lip and thought about her response, careful not to spook him. Joel was like a wild animal sometimes, he was always in fight of flight, Juliet had to tiptoe around him, praying that he wouldn’t run at the first sign of her gentle curiosity.

“Contractors?” she finally asked, keeping her tone as casual as possible. She didn’t want him to know that she was hanging onto his every word.

“Built houses, stores, that kinda thing.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, guess it was.”

Before Juliet could ask him another question, he walked towards the door, having decided their tour of this room was over. Juliet sighed, her steps echoing in the silent room as she jogged to catch up with him.

…………………………………………………

“This might be something,” Juliet announced as they stepped into the first lab they came across. Firefly symbols were dotted about the walls. Joel scoffed at the sight. “Hmmm,” he agreed.

Juliet moved over to the windows lining the back wall. The blazing sun had dimmed, fading into the softer light of early evening. Juliet turned the handle and cracked the window open, allowing the hot air from outside to clear away the staleness of the lab. She stepped backwards, gazing out at the University campus, it was so beautiful, Juliet wished they could stay longer. When she turned back around, Joel was bent down at some cabinets, opening and closing doors, searching for anything valuable.

Juliet joined him, taking a seat on the floor to rifle through a low cupboard. Joel didn’t look at her as she sat beside him, but his body visibly tensed. Juliet shifted away from him, she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

They worked together for a while, searching every inch of the room. Every cupboard, every cabinet, every desk. They found nothing of value, only the trash that the fireflies left behind. Joel muttered under his breath a few times, Juliet thought she heard him say “Typical.”

When they decided this room was a bust, Juliet stood up, wiping her hands off her worn trousers. Joel was already heading towards the door, ready to start searching the next room. When he was a couple steps away, he stopped suddenly, his head whipped towards the window as he reached out a hand to still Juliet’s movements.

“What?” Juliet whispered, she hadn’t heard anything strange.

Joel gave her one of his lethal looks, raising a steady finger to his lips.

Then she heard it:

“This way,” a voice called from below the window.

Juliet’s eyes darted to Joel’s, her lips parting in shock.

His finger hadn’t moved from his lips. They stood there frozen for several long seconds before they heard anything more.

“Shut the fuck up,” another voice growled.

Joel moved his finger from his lips and reached down to grab Juliet’s wrist, his large hand enclosing around her. Juliet blinked up at him, watching as he removed his gun from his pocket with his other hand, urging Juliet with a pointed look to do the same. She did as he asked.

Joel’s hand was still around her wrist and he used that position to pull her closer, his face tilted down. “Out the back,” he murmured as his hot breath skimmed over her face. Juliet nodded and swallowed rough, her brain wasn’t working at full capacity due to Joel’s close proximity.

He scanned her face once more then moved, pulling Juliet behind him as they stalked out the room and down the hallway, searching for a stairwell. Juliet stumbled to keep up with his pace. His grip on her wrist was tight, but it didn’t hurt. Joel would never hurt her.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Joel let go of Juliet to push on the double doors into the stairwell. There were no windows, but there wasn’t enough time to get their torches out of their bags again. Juliet bit her lip again as she followed Joel’s blurry figure down the stairs. She was very much aware of the fact that they had little to no ammo left, and they didn’t know how many men there were outside. At the bottom, Juliet could make out a fire exit door lining the wall. Joel reached a hand behind him to brush against her arm, checking she was still there, before he pushed against the doors.

The afternoon sun bled through the dark of the stairwell as the doors popped open. Juliet glanced up at Joel’s face. He nodded, reassuring her that everything would be okay, they just had to get off the campus and back to the main road as quickly as possible. “Ready?” he mouthed.

Juliet adjusted her grip on her gun before she nodded back, she was ready.

They darted around the edge of the building as they tried to get their bearings. Every building and every path looked the same, Juliet’s head was spinning as Joel signalled for them to move more into the open. Her eyes were wide as Joel nodded reassuringly.

The bolted across the grass, heading for the path she now recognised from earlier. Juliet’s heart was banging against her chest but she kept moving, kept following Joel. He would get them out of this, she trusted him with everything she had.

“Got them!” a voice called from behind them.

Juliet’s head swung around but she kept running. They had spotted them, two men were headed in their direction.

Joel stopped suddenly and Juliet ran into him, her whole body shaking as she slammed against his hard chest. He grabbed her and pulled her behind him. Juliet struggled against his hold, attempting to stand beside him but Joel was having none of it. “Stay behind me and stay quiet,” he ground out, only loud enough for her to hear. Juliet grunted as Joel’s arm stretched behind him and held her against his back.

Juliet moved her head slightly so she could see around Joel’s arm. The men were closer now, Juliet felt Joel reach his arms up and fire a shot from his gun. She flinched as the sound rang out in her ears.

She heard a shout as one of the men fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Juliet tried to move around Joel to help take out the next man, but in the same second Joel darted forward, grabbing the other man in a headlock.

A sneer overtook Joel’s face as Juliet watched him strangle the man in his arms. She didn’t blink when she heard the crunch of his neck breaking. Joel let the man fall to the ground. Then he turned, facing Juliet, breathing heavily.

Juliet started to move towards him, her hands twitching to comfort him, to thank him for saving them again. She stopped when she noticed another figure darting towards Joel from behind.

“Joel!” she shouted, pointing behind him.

Joel turned just in time, grabbing the other man’s arm before he fired a shot. They struggled against each other, standing too close so Joel couldn’t shoot. This man was stronger too, Joel wasn’t able to take him out as quickly as the other two.

Juliet started to panic, her hands shook as she positioned her gun and tried to get a clear shot of the guy’s head. They were moving too much, it was impossible.

Juliet moved closer as Joel swung the man around, this was it, this was her chance.

She pulled the trigger.

The man fell backwards, his head smashing off the concrete ground.

Juliet gasped, finally catching her breath after holding it for so long.

Joel stood across from her, his mouth gaped open. His face was a strange colour, almost chalky, verging on pale. He kept his frantic eyes on Juliet as he started to walk towards her. When he took his first step he stumbled, Juliet mindlessly reached a hand out, desperate to stabilise him. But then her gaze slowly dropped downwards…

A knife was lodged in his side.

Joel’s eyes followed hers, instantly spotting the blade impaling his lower torso. He let out a rough breath before he raised his hand and gripped the handle of the knife.

A shot of fear fired through Juliet’s heart. She darted towards Joel, ready to pull his hand back.

“Joel, no!”

She wasn’t quick enough. Joel pulled the knife from his abdomen, leaving behind a fast spreading smudge of dark red on his green flannel.

Juliet caught him before he fell, her hands gripped his broad shoulders, holding him upright. Her face was caught in between his neck and shoulder, his skin was already so hot. Was it supposed to be that hot? Her mind spiralled inwards, trying to remember every medical tip Ethan had taught her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything other than the weight of Joel’s body as she kept him on his feet.

“We have to get out of here,” she groaned into his neck, her voice higher than usual. Panic started to grip her. She didn’t know what to do, where to take him, or how to help him. Juliet strengthened her hold on his shoulders and pushed away from him temporarily, her arms shaking as she turned and positioned his arm to drape over her shoulders as his weight rested on the left side of her body. She nearly screamed as his weight put pressure on her bad shoulder.

Joel’s head rolled off of her, he was gaining consciousness again. Juliet took this opportunity to start moving forward, Joel’s feet stumbling beside her own.

She willed her breathing to slow, she needed some clarity of mind if she was going to get them out of there. If she was going to save Joel.

Joel groaned into Juliet’s ear, his hot breath staining her cheek.

“Leave me,” he coughed out. “Get out of here.”

“Fuck that,” Juliet growled, her voice straining as they struggled across the grass, towards the path back to the road.

Joel coughed again. Juliet had no idea how bad his injury was, she didn’t get a good look at it, just grabbed him and started moving. What if he has internal bleeding? she thought. Juliet had no medical knowledge, she might have listened to Ethan ramble on about his training for hours on end but that didn’t mean she knew the first thing about healing a stab wound.

All Juliet could focus on was getting him off this cursed campus and finding somewhere to hole up, then she would look at his wound and figure out how fucked they really were.

She remembered that house they passed with the porch swing. It wasn’t far, they could make it. Juliet bit her lip, her teeth piercing the delicate skin until she tasted blood. The pain grounded her, dragged her mind away from her anxiety and back to the pressure of Joel’s body against hers.

…………………………………….

Juliet’s legs were about to give out.

With each shaky step, her body threatened to crumple onto the cracked pavement beneath her. Juliet’s legs struggled to support her own weight, let alone the hulking figure of the man draped against the left side of her body, with his arm locked around her neck.

Juliet’s erratic breaths caught at the sight of Joel’s blood.

She tightened her hold on his body, her fingers digging into his side. She urged him, with the press of her torn nails against his flannel, to stay awake, to stay with her.

The house with the porch swing was in her line of sight, they were so close. Juliet couldn’t look behind her but she prayed with everything in her that they had killed all of the men at the University. She had no fight left in her.

When they reached the house, Juliet cursed as she noticed the porch steps. She wanted to stop and catch her breath before she attempted them, but she knew that if she stopped she probably wouldn’t be able to start walking again. Joel must have sensed, with some detached part of his brain, that Juliet was struggling and he managed to strengthen his steps, pulling some of his own weight up the stairs.

When they approached the front door, Juliet was able to offload some of Joel’s weight onto the wall so she could free one of her hands to turn the door handle. Joel’s entire face was coated in a worrying sheen of sweat, his colour still unusually pale. Juliet steeled herself to take his weight again as she dragged him through the front door. There was a living room to their left and they stumbled towards it. With one last push of her strength, Juliet removed Joel’s arm from around her shoulders and positioned his body so it would slowly tip onto the couch in front of them.

That didn’t go to plan.

Joel tripped over his legs and dropped to the ground beside the couch, his head just missing the corner of the coffee table. Juliet gasped, her hands covering her mouth for a brief, stunned moment before she bent down, pushing the coffee table away. She groaned loud as she pulled his upper body up to slip his bag off his back, sitting it beside her own as she contemplated lifting him onto the couch.

That was until her eyes landed on his face and she realised that he had completely passed out, there was no way she could lift him without support. Instead, she bunched up her jacket and slid it under his head, then rocked back on her heels and buried her face in her hands.

She had to think, try to imagine what Ethan would do in this situation.

Juliet removed her hands from her face and watched them tremble as she reached towards Joel’s abdomen. She bent down properly, putting her knees to the floor as she leaned forward and pulled back Joel’s flannel and the grey t-shirt underneath. Her breath hissed through her teeth when she saw the state of his wound.

There was so much blood, the bottom half of his flannel was almost entirely stained red. Juliet instantly pressed her hand on it, finally remembering what Ethan had said about pressure stopping blood flow. It definitely needed stitches, she knew that much.

Juliet looked around her as tears started to blur her vision. Now that she had stopped moving, her mind began to process everything that just happened. She choked on a sob.

She shook her head sharply, not letting her fear take over just yet. She had a job to do, Joel needed her. While keeping one hand firmly latched onto Joel’s wound, she reached behind her to Joel’s backpack, pulling it forward so she could rifle through it. Juliet knew Joel extensive first aid kit in there, he had had got it from Bill and Frank’s and used it on her multiple times over the past few weeks. Now it was Juliet’s turn.

Finally, her fingers felt the corner of it and she dragged it out of his bag. With one hand she rested it on her lap and popped it open. Inside was gauze, plasters, some sort of antiseptic liquid, and a suture kit. Relief flowed through her at the sight. Juliet looked at Joel’s face again, hoping he would stay unconscious while she closed his wound. She squeezed her eyes shut, put more pressure on Joel’s wound, then opened them, blinking away her hesitation and moved to pick up the kit.

………………………………………………….

Twenty minutes later, Juliet sat back against the coffee table and stared at her handiwork. Her fingers had trembled with every stitch but she’d done it. Ethan would have been proud.

Her fingers were stained with Joel’s blood, Juliet couldn’t stand the sight of it. She pulled her water canister from her bag, took a swig, then poured some over her hands, watching as the water and blood mixed together on the wooden floor. The water had cured the dryness in her mouth but she needed something stronger. Juliet dug about in Joel’s bag again, pulling out his whiskey flask.

He had never let her have any, the whole time they had travelled together. She must have asked him at least five times and everytime he would shake his head, end of discussion. Now, though, she needed it.

Juliet welcomed the burn as the liquid slid down her throat, warming her insides. She struggled to take her eyes off Joel, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. Juliet took another sip of his whiskey. Surely he would wake up soon, he had to. Juliet refused to imagine a possibility where he didn’t open his eyes.

Juliet felt a hot tear slide down her face. She reached up to wipe it away and remembered when it was Joel’s fingers that grazed her cheek. “Open your eyes, Joel,” she whispered as another tear dripped onto her lap. She didn’t even wipe it away this time.

“Please,” she choked out. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Her head hit the coffee table again, her eyes squeezed shut, forcing the tears to pour from the corner of her eyelids. Juliet began to feel the warmth of the whiskey approach the pain in her head, dulling it a little.

She didn’t feel his touch at first, not until Joel’s hand circled her wrist, squeezing her blood stained skin. Juliet’s eyes blinked open, instantly meeting Joel’s weary gaze. His stare was piercing as it slid over her face and down her body, to the flask in her hand.

“Gimme some of that,” he croaked out.

A laugh burst from Juliet, her head spinning with how quick she sat up. She leaned forward over his body, her free hand reaching to cup his cheek, a couple tears dripped from her bloodshot eyes to his sweat soaked forehead. “Joel,” she breathed, smiling down at him.

Joel stared back at her with wide eyes, his gaze wandering over her face, hovering over her lips before he met her eyes again. She watched as he swallowed roughly. Then Juliet remembered his request.

“Here,” she said, circling her hand around the back of his neck to raise his head slightly as she tipped the flask to his cracked lips. Joel didn’t take his eyes off of her as he gulped the amber liquid. When he was done, she gently placed his head back on the makeshift pillow and leaned back just enough to rest her hand against his shoulder. Juliet didn’t know what had come over her, but she found that she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. She had to make sure he was really there.

Joel tipped his head forward to stare down at his wound, which was now covered in gauze. His eyes darted back up to Juliet’s, shock filled his features.

“You stayed,” he said roughly.

Juliet swallowed, letting her head drop in confirmation. “Of course I stayed,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Those three words triggered something in Joel, his fingers still latched around her wrist started to move, painting small circles against her skin. That electricity that always danced between them flickered and sparked with each swipe of his fingers. Juliet’s breath caught in her throat as she registered that dark look in his eyes. It must be the whiskey, making her see things. Because Juliet couldn’t possibly see desire shining in Joel’s eyes, it wasn’t possible. Joel was cold, stoic, heartless, he couldn’t look at someone the way he was looking at Juliet in that moment.

Juliet was definitely hallucinating when Joel’s fingers moved from her wrist up to her wet face as his calloused thumb grazed over the cut on her lip. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at the blood now staining the tip of his finger. His gaze hardened. The danger lurking in his eyes didn’t frighten Juliet, it never did, it only made her want to move closer, to see what else hid behind his heated stare. She felt her body begin to lean forward, her hand slid from Joel’s shoulder to his neck then back up to cup his cheek, the rough hair of his beard pricking her fingers.

Blood started pumping in Juliet’s ears, drowning out her mind which screamed at her to sit back, to stay away from the wounded man on the floor, to run scared from the hunger in his eyes.

Juliet was never good at following orders.

She moved those last few inches towards Joel’s face, neither of them blinked as Juliet’s lips hovered over his. Their breaths mingled together as sparks ran across her vision. Then Joel moved, his eyelashes brushing against Juliet’s as he leaned forward to crash his lips onto hers.

Kissing Joel was brutal, hot, and messy. There was so gentleness, no softness, only the hard press of his lips and the savage way they parted for her. His hand moved to the back of her neck, circling her delicate throat with the press of his fingers, pulling her towards him, suffocating her on his lips. Juliet’s mind was blank, the screaming had stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time her mind had been so quiet. The roaring of her blood in her ears and the grunts rumbling in Joel’s throat were the only sounds that she could hear.

Her whole body burned, it felt as though she had swallowed the entire flask of whiskey. Joel’s lips were a drug she had resisted for so long, now that she had a taste she would never forget the feeling. Joel pulled her closer, squeezing the back of her neck. Juliet ran her hand through his hair in response, her fingers tugged on the dark brown strands. She could feel the hunger that his eyes had promised, it stroked the fire raging within her.

Juliet moaned against his lips and moved to press her chest against his, desperate for any sense of friction. She gasped as Joel let out a groan of pain, pulling his lips off of hers. Juliet threw herself backwards, her head almost smacking against the coffee table as her eyes darted to Joel’s wound. She had forgotten herself, forgotten where they were, forgotten what had happened.

The sound of their harsh breaths echoed in the darkening room. Juliet hesitantly reached her fingers up to graze over her swollen lips as she risked a glance at Joel’s face. His eyes were black. His chest moving up and down in rapid movements as he winced in pain.

“Oh god,” Juliet murmured against her fingers. “I’m sorry, I -” she grasped at an apology, searching for any words which would help explain her actions. Juliet couldn’t even make sense of what had just happened, how could she possibly explain herself to Joel? She forced herself to blink, looking away from Joel’s weighted gaze. Her mind was screaming again, embarrassment flooded her body in a dark red flush.

Juliet gripped the coffee table and stood, swaying slightly as her blood rushed to her head. She had to step away for a moment, find any remnants of her sanity to cling onto.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Juliet explained in a low voice as she moved to the living room door, making a very conscious decision not to look back at Joel. She couldn't bring herself to witness the disgust she was sure now linger in his eyes. Instead, she stared straight ahead as she stumbled out the room.

As she reached the front door, Juliet thought she heard Joel call after her. But she was already gone, stepping out into the chill evening air as the door slammed behind her.

___________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller hbo #joel miller x female oc #ao3 fanfic #tlou #tlou joel #joel the last of us #the last of us #Spotify #pedro pascal

68 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 1 month

Note

I love your thoughts on Astrid and I think a lot about whether her initial ambition to become powerful for the sake of power turned into the ambition for power so no one else has power over her. I truly do not think she begrudges Wulf his faith any more than she begrudges Caleb his new life though I would not be surprised if both are sources of some pain for her. (in a way the three of them remind me of trees. Caleb lost a part of himself but that allowed new sprouts to come forth. Wulf found faith that allowed the damage to be lessened by giving support to the damaged part of the tree. And Astrid is the one with neither who grows around the damage in the only direction she ever knew though it costs her much more in the long term than the other solutions)

Hi anon,

So I think I say this whenever I get similar asks - completely valid to have your own headcanons, but (and this is foreshadowing for the rest of this ask) I am not much of a people pleaser and I will openly disagree, as I'm about to, and this might be a conversation better had in DMs or replies or something because doing so via anon gets to be a lot of back and forth.

I really respect people who relate to Astrid as a survivor of abuse who finds some measure of peace and who simply acknowledges she, Eadwulf, and Caleb all found separate ways to move forward. I completely understand that can be very meaningful and would never take that interpretation from them.

With that said, I happen to personally prefer a view of Astrid who is capable of that bitterness. I like the possibility that she is not just ambitious (which, that on its own is often considered sufficient to lambast female characters; see the Suvi Kedberiket discourses surrounding Worlds Beyond Number) but also very angry, and at times bitter, and at times resentful.

I think a lot of fans struggle with the gray area between unambigously heroic women and unambiguously villainous ones, both because in that gray area is a complexity women in fiction are frequently denied, and also because it requires a look at specific emotions women aren't supposed to have. Women can be sad; they can be traumatized; and they've been granted such qualities as "determined" or "can use a sword" or "leaders" but I think people really still struggle with anger, and especially anger that is not specifically directed towards abusers (like Beau or Yasha or Vex) nor righteous (like Keyleth) but petty or even simply irrational.

I like Astrid as a woman who might hold a grudge she knows intellectually is unfair but who feels it anyway. I think about how she wanted to kill Trent in the moment, and that Fjord (someone whose story is very much about both forgiveness and the legitimacy of grudges and a desire for power) validates her for it even though it's true that Caleb's method of exposing Trent's crimes is probably more effective. I like her as someone who is incredibly intelligent and who probably has an idea of what the "good" thing to do is and still feels a lot of ugly feelings and possibly always will, even though she has found a much healthier way forward. I don't know quite how this interrogation will go, but it is interesting that she's in hiding in Zadash and has apparently not openly broken with the Assembly.

It's funny, because this is on some level what many people want for much of Bells Hells - they want them to be angry at the gods for neglecting them. It's just...they also want that anger to be righteous. And sometimes anger isn't. Anger is often petty and detrimental and yet still very real. What appeals to me about Astrid is that she is very much a complicated person who does straddle a line between ally and antagonist and is permitted a depth and messiness and moral ambiguity that many fans deliberately try to excise from women (and, for that matter, characters of color/in-world racialized characters and many queer characters). So I do like an Astrid who clearly cares for Caleb and for Eadwulf and does not treat them poorly, but does perhaps nurse some privately-held grudges.

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers #cr tag #i don't quite want to main tag this. but i kind of do #i haven't but i may rethink if it takes off

40 notes · View notes

etz-ashashiyot · 1 month

Text

You know how sometimes arguing a point is losing?

Like if you engage the argument at all you are inherently putting up for debate things that should never be up for debate and the argument itself is degrading?

You see this with interpersonal gaslighting:

A gaslighter doesn’t simply need to be right. They also need for you to believe that they are right. In stage one, you know that they’re being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate – your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage one, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate. In stage two, you consider your gaslighter’s point of view first and try desperately to get them to see your point of view as well. You continue to engage because you’re afraid of what their perspective of you says about you. Winning the argument now has one objective : proving that you’re still good, kind, and worthwhile. In stage three, when you’re hurt, you first ask, “What’s wrong with me?” You consider their point of view as normal. You start to lose your ability to make your own judgements. You become consumed with understanding them and seeing their perspective. You live with and obsess over every criticism, trying to solve it.

[Source]

But you also see this on a broader societal level, with people asking unfathomably awful questions about minority groups, such as:

[Source]

It should go without saying, but no group of people should be forced to explain that yes, they really are real people, dickheads. The question doesn't deserve an answer; it deserves at best a disgusted eyeroll + "Are you a Nazi?" and at worst a punch to the face.

There is also the related phenomenon of the "when did you stop beating your wife?" type questions. The question is framed as a yes or no question, but the real answer for the innocent is: "I've never beaten my wife and never would." But even that answer still dignifies the question with a real response and puts the idea in the mind of the listener that hey maybe that's a real possibility and this guy is lying because of course he wouldn't just admit that. Now I don't know what to believe, but I'm skeptical.

Even if he answers, doubt has been cast on his character and many people (maybe even most people) neither have the attention span to listen to his full counter argument and supporting evidence nor are invested enough in strangers' lives to take the time to dig for facts on their own. Critically, it comes from a good impulse that shouldn't be repressed or taken too far in the opposite direction; namely, that we want to believe survivors and make it socially acceptable to speak out about abuse.

This leaves us with the uncomfortable reality that balancing believing survivors and whistle-blowers against not automatically believing allegations that very well may be false and/or in bad faith is a very tricky balancing act indeed. Because of this, people tend to struggle with taking survivors seriously and with presuming innocence until guilt has actually been proven, both. And as for the latter, this is at least partially due to the same psychological factors underlying the Don't Think of an Elephant problem.

Why am I discussing this?

See the thing is that these types of discourse have all been used, heavily, against the Jewish community, especially since Oct 7th, but really going back hundreds of years.

If you want to be our ally, you need to be on guard for how people use this rhetoric to accuse Jews of absolutely batshit cookoo bananas allegations (like being lizard people or having horns, or secretly running the world, or killing Christian babies to use their blood in our matzah, etc. etc.) and get away with it. Now obviously if so many people weren't already racist towards Jews as a people and had a vested interest in maintaining their supercessionist cultural worldview from Christianity and Islam, it would be a lot harder for this to work. Alas, the past 2000 years has created a bit of a snowballing effect.

This culminates in the effect described so well by Sartre:

Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past.

— Jean-Paul Sartre

Right now, Jews are facing extreme levels of these types of rhetorical abuse, and are receiving very little help in the way of pushback.

We have to stop trying to explain ourselves and start just naming these tactics instead.

#antisemitism #המצב™️#jumblr #how to argue

449 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs