#Manipulation talk tw

[shepscapades]

[Set in Mid-Late Hermitcraft Season 8]

In which we learn a little something about Cub, a little something about Doc, and a little something about Xisuma.

[straightlightyagami]

frankly not a fan of how therapyspeak and the internet pathologize any relationship (of any type) that is less than perfect. how any solution that is not “immediately break off contact without offering an explanation” (which in some cases may be valid and actually the safest decision! not saying it can’t be) is in itself treated as pathological behavior.

like you have people thinking having to put any effort or having any conflict or experiencing any hardship means it’s toxic. and if it’s toxic it means it’s abusive where one person is the Abused and one is the Abuser (and obviously the person who is asking the question is always the victim), always completely knowingly and intentionally, and all types of abuse are equally bad and equally render the responsible individual completely irredeemable.

[radio-writes]

What is Left of Me Without You?

Synopsis: Your husband didn't love you, not yet at least—that's what he told you. First, he wanted to see just how much you loved him.

Warnings: dubcon, smut, oral - m receiving, sex, abusive relationship, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, some misogyny, angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader, reader is somewhere on the ace spectrum too

MDNI

To everyone in your town, you and your husband were the picture perfect couple.

Alastor, the bright, charming, down-right intoxicating radio host, walking down the street with you, his absolute darling of a wife on his arm.

Smiling, giggling, sharing hushed whispers. It looked as if the two of you were lost in your own lovely little world.

Even behind closed doors, Alastor proved himself to be the perfect gentleman. You never wanted for anything, never grieved, never felt lonely. 

If you so much as glanced at something by a storefront, Alastor would have it tied with a bow at the foot of your bed.

If anything caused you grief, or even inconvenienced you the slightest bit, Alastor would have dealt with it by the end of the day. 

If you ever felt lonely, well...

You supposed you didn't really have the right to feel lonely. Alastor was always there, wasn't he?

You woke up to the sound of your husband's humming. His smooth voice glided over each note skillfully as you peeled your eyes open.

The sight before you wasn't anything new: the other half of the bed empty and already fixed up. 

You turned to sit up, and found Alastor in front of your vanity as he straightened his bowtie. He caught your eye through the reflection, and his smile broadened.

The greater half of New Orleans would probably kill to be in your place right now. Seated in a lavish bedroom, your famous, dapper husband walking to your side of the bed to place a kiss on your hand. 

"Well good morning, darling! Don't you look adorable in this state." His sweet words greeted you.

It was there again, that odd feeling that sunk in your gut. What was that?

"Good morning, my dear." You greeted him back, ignoring whatever it was. A tired smile graced your lips as you peered up at him. "Headed to work already?" You asked him. 

"Why, of course! Who else would wake up New Orleans and tell all those sleepy bones to shake a leg and hop to work?" He struck a pose, hand on his chest. "Only yours truly, of course!" 

His warm chestnut eyes met yours through the lenses of his glasses. You let out a tired, soft laugh as you glanced away to hide the heat that rose to your cheeks.

You adored this man—every single bit of him—so you found it hard not to get flustered over him, even after all this time. Hell, you were still counting your lucky stars that he chose to marry you of all people.

Why? Well, you tried not to ask yourself that.

He'd already given you his answer, hadn't he?

Alastor placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, quickly pulling you out of your thoughts before they could spiral. You looked back at your husband as he said something about having to run off or risk being late.

You remained sat in your bed, smiling and watching with hearts in your eyes as your darling husband waved on his way out of your room. 

"Looking forward to what you'll cook up this evening, sweetheart!" Alastor grinned, right before the door shut behind him.

And it was there again.

The gnawing feeling was coming by more and more frequently now. What was it?

Was it actually loneliness? But that would be so silly, wouldn't it?

Your husband didn't love you, but he trusted you. And that should be enough for now.

At least, that's what he said when he proposed.

You and Alastor knew each other for a very long time, and basically all of New Orleans knew you took a very strong liking to him.

Alastor had raised the proposition back then. You remember how he had explained that it would be a good thing for both your sakes. How you'd get to be with someone you loved oh so much, and how convenient it would be for him to finally get marriage out of the way. And even more so with a cherished friend like you!

Sure, you hesitated back then; unsure if you really wanted to marry a man who didn't love you the way you did him. But he sung you praises, he sung you promises.

You were darling, you were beautiful, you were smart, you were kind. How could he not grow to love you in your marriage? How could he resist falling for a such a doll who was offering him her heart?

So you said yes. 

Because you loved Alastor with every bit of your heart, but he simply just wasn't ready to love you back yet.

And he was such a lovely man who never failed to shower you with affection. Maybe you were just asking for too much—fretting over such small things—for you to feel upset about waking up without your husband beside you. 

And—and he was a radio host, after all. Of course he had to get to work early.

You really didn't need to spare it another second of thought.

No, what you really needed to focus on was how you could help your dear, hardworking husband.

You shook your head and slapped your hands softly against your cheeks. You've got to knock that annoying feeling loose. It was all so pointless.

With a more determined look, you got up from the bed. You neatly fixed the sheets and pillows, taking extra care to make sure every single wrinkle was smoothened out.

You silently ran over the list of tasks you had to do today.

Obviously there's cleaning and making sure the house was in order. It would be a real shame if Alastor came home to an untidy space. He's already out working late for both of you, the least you could do was make sure he had a clean home to rest in.

You ought to make time to drop by the market for some fresh meat to cook up. Alastor would surely be famished after work, right? And your mama always did say that the quickest way to a man's heart was through his stomach. 

You could also drop by the tailors and get the hem of one of your Alastor's dress shirts straightened out. He hasn't said anything about it, but he's avoided using that particular one for a while now. You knew the uneven stitches had to be bugging him.

Oh, you really needed to pass by a locksmith, too. That dang lock on the basement door still had not budged no matter what Alastor did, and you just could not find the key anywhere.

You've been waving the issue off for a while now—Alastor was right in saying there's no real rush to it, nothing really important down there, anyway—but it'd be nice to have the extra storage available to you again.

You let out a huffed breath and placed your hands on your waist. You held your head high and ready. "Right. Let's get this show started."

It was a busy day, as it always was for you. The hours ticked by as quickly as loose sand through an open palm.

You didn't have time to feel lonely, not when you were too busy scrubbing with all your might against a particularly stubborn grease stain on your sink. 

When the house was finally all neat, you got yourself ready to head out. Hair done, just a touch of make up, and a rather modest dress—at least as modest as Alastor had bought you. That man did lean towards the more finer tastes.

You felt it was a bit much just to do a few errands, but you were the sweet wife of a local personality. You had an image to uphold. You had to make sure you didn't do anything to tarnish your darling husband's reputation. 

This was just part of the whole package, you supposed. Nothing that can be done about it.

Heading out into the afternoon sun, you painted on a bright smile for all the kind people that greeted you. Cheery, happy, friendly. Oh, but not too friendly.

Meek, quiet, all prim and proper. The makings of a fine lady worthy of her spot by the dapper radio host's side.

You dropped your husband's shirt off by the tailors first. They seemed to be more than happy to rush your request once you let slip who it belonged to. They promised they could have it ready in just a few hours. You thanked them softly, and noted how they were such jolly workers, laughing even as you left the store.

You dropped by the locksmith before the market, not really wanting to carry out a bunch of raw meat as you went about your day.

The nicely dressed man was a bit—difficult to talk to. He seemed to think you had no idea what a door even was. He had just started explaining how you open a doorknob when you felt your cheeks start to strain from how hard you worked to maintain a smile.

"Oh dear me, would you look at the time," You politely cut him off, pretending to be shocked at how late into the day it was. "I am so sorry, sir, but my husband should be coming home any minute now and I haven't even started on dinner!" 

A lie. Alastor always came home late.

The man raised a brow at you in disbelief. Not that he didn't buy your act, but more judgmental that a woman would be so careless as to forget to take care of her spouse.

You ignore the look he gave you, keeping your shy smile on. "Maybe you could just sell me the tools. I could get my husband to work on it."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," The man shrugged. "I'll get what you need in a split, so you can run back and make a quick stew at the very least."

He ended up selling you the tools, along with a bunch of other needless things, with the assurance that your husband would definitely need them all.

You bit your tongue as you smiled and thanked him.

Why on earth would you need a box of nails and a bottle of glue to split a lock open?

But you really did not have it in you to stand in that shop any longer.

Besides, how would it look if the papers caught whiff of Alastor's sweet little wife yelling and lecturing a local shop keeper.

You couldn't burden your husband like that.

You hurriedly rushed to the market before they could close, buying the best cut of meat they still had at this hour, before you made your way back to the tailors to check on the progress.

The workers snickered as you entered, but you really didn't think much of it until they pulled out the dress shirt you dropped off.

A large, nasty stain of lord-knows-what sat right at the center of what used to be its pristine white color.

Your smile strained badly. "Oh dear, what on earth happened?" You asked with feigned worry. You already knew what happened.

"Afraid we spilled a bit of lunch on it, sweetie." One of the ladies explained, her companions giggling behind her. "Couldn't be avoided, unfortunately."

You felt your eye twitch.

"I'm sure a lovely doll like you could find a way to fix it. Wouldn't want that hotty husband of yours to leave your pretty face for something like this, would ya?" She went on.

"You better run, though. I heard the cleaners were planning on closing up early today." Another bitch woman spoke up.

Had you been any less horrified at your husband's ruined shirt, you would have been fuming.

You quickly took the shirt and paid, rushing out before you did anything stupid. Like cry.

Oh Alastor's rivals would have a field day twisting a story like that.

As you left the ladies called out "We did straighten the hem, darling!" And a more snarky, muttered comment, "Although, you'd think someone as handsome as Alastor could find a gal that could do something that simple herself."

The walk back home was probably the most tiring part of it all. Having to keep your back straight, your smile lovely, your voice friendly. Never letting the kind people know anything was wrong.

Because you knew those kind people were all itching to have any reason to gossip about your husband.

And you just couldn't have that.

Your shoulders finally sagged as you closed the door to your house. Your smile dropped immediately as you leaned against the door in exhaustion.

You stuffed the ruined shirt in your bag, thinking maybe your can throw it out later on, but you just knew Alastor would notice it was missing. He won't be happy with you, that's for sure.

Never mind that you've bent over backwards for the better half of a year to cater to him. Never mind that you've hidden all your faults under the rug. Never mind that you've been absolutely devoted to him even before your marriage.

You had to be perfect.

But you weren't. And you knew that. It seemed every other woman in New Orleans knew that. And now with the ruined shirt, Alastor would know that too.

He'll see you as less.

It's there again, that's stupid heavy feeling in your gut. Whatever it was.

You sighed in defeat. If you couldn't get the shirt fixed, maybe you could at least make sure he had a good meal to come home to? Maybe that could make him overlook your faults this time.

You burnt it. Somehow,—despite normally being an amazing cook every other time besides tonight—you managed to burn dinner.

You put your hands over your face, groaning in frustration, just absolutely exasperated. Why on earth was everything going wrong today. Why couldn't you just do one thing right? Why couldn't you just be of some help to Alastor? Why—

You lifted your face from your hands, attempting to slow your breathing. Your eyes glanced around your ruined kitchen and your burnt dinner, and that stupid shirt peaking out of your bag, and...the door to the basement? 

Right! Maybe there could still be one thing you could do right today.

You wiped your hands over your apron, immediately scrambling for the tools you bought earlier today. 

While you weren't the smartest when it came to these things, surely you could figure something out to try to loosen the lock.

You've watched your gentle husband fiddle around with the lock many times before, never opting to break the thing. You suspected he didn't want to look in any way violent in front of you, but you always thought it was so needlessly complicated.

You grabbed a hammer from the pile of junk and made your way towards the basement door. You tested the lock's strength with a few, rather light, taps of the hammer head. It didn't feel that sturdy. You thought you could definitely break it with a bit of force on your end.

You gripped the handle with both hands and brought the hammer down on it.

Once. The sound of metals clashing echoed in your house

Twice. You had to do at least this today.

Thrice. You can't be useless to him.

You smashed the hammer down onto the lock one more time and the battered thing fell to floor. 

Your eyes widened, lips spreading into grin out of relief.

Thank heavens, you managed something today. Alastor would be glad to hear this, at least. 

You bent over, picking up the fallen lock from the floor.

A weight pressed against you from behind.

Startled out of your wit, you stood up straight, just in time for whoever it was to flatten your body right against the basement door.

"What a lovely sight that was." You hear Alastor's voice right by your ear.

His head found home where your shoulder and head met. His nose trailed up against your skin as he breathed you in.

A gasp escaped your parted lips as you feel his hands squeeze the flesh of your hips harshly.

"Alastor?" You were partly dazed, confused what was happening.

His hips pressed against yours at the sound of his name from your mouth, and you all but recoil.

Alastor was rarely handsy, and that was fine by you. You actually realized that you much preferred it that way. Alastor's love being the only thing you ever really wanted from him.

Moments like these have always caught you off guard.

Because your husband knew that. He knew you weren't comfortable with being intimate. He knew you'd much rather have him just sit by you. He knew you weren't one to jump his bones.

And Alastor normally respected that.

"What a naughty little doll you are," Alastor's breath hot against your skin. "Welcoming a man home all bent over, presenting yourself." He whispered.

Your eyes widened, attempting to turn to face him, but his body kept yours pinned to the door.

"Baby, no. I," Your breathing had gone a bit ragged. "I was just picking up this lock here."

You raised your hand, showing the broken, battered lock in your grip. "I finally managed to open the stubborn thing." You tried to smile up at him over your shoulder, expecting praise.

Alastor's eyes stayed on the lock for a second too long you think, before his hand circled your wrist and yanked your arm behind your back. His swift hands made your other arm follow after it immediately.

The ache in your limbs, the grip he had on you, the shock of it all made the lock tumble right out of your grasp.

Alastor let out a hum of disappointment. "That's a real shame, sweetheart. I thought you were finally opening up to me." He said, his voice still filled with mirth. "Could have really used it tonight, too."

You felt him ground his hips against your clothed ass. His half hard cock evident against you.

He used one hand to keep your arms where they were, the other made its way to caress up your torso. His large palm trailing past your breasts, ending up by your soft cheeks.

Contrasting with the ones that held you still, his fingers were gentle against your face. His fingertips barely ghosted over your skin.

"I had a rather rough day at work, you see. Could you blame a man for wanting a little comfort from his wife?" He whispered.

The words hung in the air. Your lips unable to deny him, but unable to agree all the same.

A heartbeat passes, and suddenly you were free. Alastor stepped back from you, your body relaxing at the absence of his towering figure. 

"But what kind of ruffian would I be to force a lady to do that against her will," Alastor said, his tone rather carefree.

You turned around to finally face him, only to see him looking else where.

Your eyes followed his line of sight and you noticed the ruined shirt, pulled out of the bag, sitting right next to a burnt dinner, all framed by a horribly messy kitchen.

Alastor looked back at you, his charming smile ever present. "I'm sure you excel at all the other aspects of being a wife, anyway." He says, as if he hadn't just seen the failure you've made of your day.

He began to walk away, and your hand reached out before you could even think. Almost as if on reflex. Almost as if it's what you had to do.

You meekly pulled him back. His eyes watched you, almost expectantly, as you cupped your palms against his cheeks, and invited him down to meet you.

Your lips brushed chastely against his as he let out a satisfied hum.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your eyes looking up at him as your breaths mixed. "What...what can I do for you, my love?"

Alastor's smile stretched, his lips dipping down to meet yours again for a second time. His hand quickly found its way to the small of your back, heavy as he ushered you out of the kitchen.

"I think that's better discussed in the bedroom, darling." He purred against your ear.

You swallowed thickly against your tightening throat. 

Normally Alastor's hands on you were cherished, but you wanted nothing more than to squirm away from his hold right then. You knew where this was heading, but it just was not something you ever found appealing.

But you could do it for Alastor, right? You have done it for him before, anyway. 

Even if you didn't particularly enjoy it, at least you'd be satisfying your husband. At least you'd be close to him. At least you'd be useful to him.

Alastor, like the chivalrous gentleman he is, opened the door of your bedroom for you as he lead you in. You heard the click of the lock behind you, right before you were quickly tossed onto your bed.

You squealed as your felt your body bounce against the soft sheets. Your dress bunched up your thighs as you adjusted your legs.

Alastor stood at the foot of your bed, working his bowtie off with nimble fingers. "Darling, why so tense? It's only me." He says, his voice almost soothing.

But it was there again. That annoying feeling. It seems heavier than ever.

Was it really loneliness? 

How could you even be lonely now, when the man you love was waiting to mount you.

"I'm just nervous, that's all, darling," You managed to say honestly. "It hurt quite a bit last time."

Your eyes watched closely as Alastor's hand made quick work of the buttons in his vest, shrugging it off and placing his knee on the bed. His eyes trained on your reactions all the while, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty on your face as you bit your lip.

"I know a way we can ease that," He said. He reached out his hand to you, inviting you to take it.

Your shaky hand didn't hesitate. Because you'd do anything for this man.

You loved Alastor, so much, with your whole body, but he seemed to revel a bit too much in that knowledge.

He knew you could never deny him. So when your hand was in his, he pulled you closer, watching with delight as you awkwardly crawled to the end of your bed.

"Care for a box lunch, darling? It'd hurt less if we're a lot more slick." Alastor teased, chuckling as you looked at him with confusion.

The gears seemed to click in your head when one of his hand rested on your hair, the other worked his belt off.

"Oh," Was pretty much all you managed to squeak out. It was definitely not what you expected. 

You hadn't noticed that you tried to pull away until Alastor applied a bit more pressure on your scalp to keep you still. 

He pulled his heavy cock free from its confines. He ran his hand over it, lazily pumping the hardening member in his palm as his gaze was transfixed on you.

Your wide eyes watched every movement of his hand. Panicked, you seemed. Not unlike many panicked does he's shot down in the past.

Not unlike many panicked other things he's felt lose life under his hands.

"Something wrong?" Alastor mused, head tilting as he watched you flinch at the sight of his dick twitching.

Your eyes finally pulled away from your husband's groin, looking up to meet the man's lidded gaze behind his glasses. "We haven't really tried that before and," You bit your lip, unsure on how to proceed. "It just seems a bit deviant." 

"Well then it's lucky we're both in such safe company then, isn't it?" The hand in your hair loosened it's grip, opting to softly comb through your hair. The slight tension in your shoulders melted away. "I've been rather curious about what all fuss was about, didn't really have a partner I trusted enough before to try, though." 

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. He saw how bad you messed up today, didn't he? He saw how miserably you failed at the simplest of tasks. But he still trusted you? He still trusted you enough to do something as unorthodox as this?

"I suppose I've been rather curious about it myself." You smiled up at him nervously, your hand reached out by your own choice to hold his hefty cock in your palm.

You were lying.

He knew you were lying and he loved it.

"Then open up, my dear." You heard him say, gently guiding your head closer to his crotch.

You decided looking up at your husband was easier than watching your own hand pleasure his shaft. You kept his gaze as you parted your lips, letting your soft tongue meet the skin of his head before wrapping your lips around it.

There was a rather salty taste in your mouth, a bit of his precum leaking onto your tongue. You tried not to cringe at the taste, choosing instead to focus on the way Alastor's brows furrowed when you took more of him into your warm, obedient mouth.

"How do I taste, darling?" He teased, knowing you couldn't answer. 

He looked down at you expectantly. Not knowing what else you could do, you began to slowly bob your head, keeping your lips wrapped around his shaft.

You took your time, slowly letting more of him past your lips each time you sank your head back down. Eyes trained on your husband's face, part of you wondering if he'd praise you if you did a well enough job. But it seemed your efforts offered far too little friction for Alastor's patience.

His hips started moving against your face. Softly at first, but he soon began to push at your head to meet his thrusts.

The head of his hard cock nudged your throat and you choked. Your hands immediately went to his hips, nails digging in with how hard you held onto him. 

Tears forms in your eyes as you looked up at your husband, and your heart immediately filled with panic when you were met with a look of disappointment. 

"Hmm. Seems this might have been too much for you to handle." He sighed, finally pulling you off his dick.

A string of saliva stayed between the head of his cock and your lips as you coughed and gasped for air. 

But even as your jaw throbbed, you went to reach your hand out and tried to lean back in towards his dick. "No, no. I can do it, I promise," You said hurriedly.

"There's no need to force yourself, my darling wife," Alastor tutted, pushing you back by your shoulder, stopping you from getting another chance to prove yourself. "We can't help that you have your limits."

"I just need practice." You swore, looking up at your husband. You hated that you disappointed him again.

His fingers reach out to tilt your chin up, making space for his lips at your neck as he slowly pushed you back into the bed with his own body.

"If you ask nicely enough, I'm sure we can have you try again another time," Alastor said softly, as if granting you such a troublesome request.

The back of your head softly met your pillows as Alastor nudged your legs apart with his knee.

He slotted himself between your legs, grinding his slick cock impatiently against your panties. His groan was practically breathed into your ear.

You wanted to hear more of it. While you weren't particularly eager for sex, you were starved for your husband's praises. And if this is what it took then so be it.

You bucked your hips up to remove your underwear, your groin meeting his lazy thrusts as you did. 

"And here I was beginning to think you didn't want me." Alastor jested as he parted from your neck to help you rid yourself of your underwear. His long fingers slid the flimsy thing down one leg and let it stay on the other.

"There probably isn't a woman in this apple that doesn't want you, my love." You half-joked, but your soft laugh abruptly ended in a gasp.

Alastor pressed the thick head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pushing in just the smallest bit. "You're most likely right," He said, watching as your eyes closed at his trespass. "But you are the only one lucky enough to have me."

And you should know it.

Your back arched as your husband pushed past the tight hole of your entrance. What little resistance your walls made barely bothered him as his throbbing head forced your walls apart.

His hands dug into the sheets by your body. The smooth covers wrinkling in his grip as he strained to stay still.

"This alright for you, darling?" He asked, running his thumb softly under your eye to coax you into looking at him.

Your heart fluttered. Even when in such carnal need he cared about your silly little wants. You pry your eyes open to see Alastor peering down at you with a smile.

"I could stay with this much if you need me to." He told you, rocking hips barely moving. The head of his cock nearly slipping out before he pushed back in, just until it disappeared again into your warm walls.

He was being so kind and accommodating, you couldn't bring yourself to be so needlessly selfish.

Your cunt strained to take even just his very tip, but it was so pointless to let something like that get in the way. Your petty little apprehensions shouldn't matter. Not when you're with your husband.

Your lips strained to force a smile. "I think I can take more, my dear."

It was all Alastor really needed to hear. he dragged his dick out of you, letting it slip out. Wanting you to feel how empty you were without him. Before he rammed his hips against yours; sheathing his cock fully in your warm cunt.

"What a gal," Alastor praised. "Loving, kind, and gentle, but takes a cock like she's on the clock in a call house."

Alastor loved the way you keened at his words.

He loved the way you yearned for his touch, even when you both knew it wasn't your game.

He loved the way you worshiped him, always so desperate to please him.

Oh, how he loved how you were always so ready to give him everything. 

Alastor loved you, but just not in the way you hoped.

When you woke up the next morning, the view in front of you wasn't anything new.

Alastor's half of the bed was empty. The previously rumpled sheets for the previous night's rendezvous were pristine and smoothened out once more.

It was there again. Whatever that feeling was. 

You assumed it's going to be here for a while.

Alastor seemed to have already headed out before you awoke, not that it felt any different from other mornings.

With a sigh you made your bed. Once again going over everything you had to do for the day.

You had to clean—because you always had to clean—but more so now knowing you left quite the mess yesterday. You have to stop by the market once more, maybe look through clothing stores to find a new shirt for Alastor.

You didn't want him upset with you over that after all. While he didn't bring it up, you knew it still likely bothered him.

You made your way to the kitchen, ready to get the day started.

Except something glimmered as you walked by it. Your head turned to its direction, seeing the same padlock you broke the night before in perfect condition—back on the door to the basement.

Your brows furrowed as you approached it. Fingers gingerly examining the cold metal.

But, how could it be back on here? You swore you broke this stubborn thing last night.

From the corner of your eye, you see a note on the counter, immediately recognizing Alastor's messy handwriting. 

Yes, of course. He must have replaced the old one and fixed whatever damaged you did on the door while you were asleep. That would easily explain it.

You picked up the note, smiling softly to yourself at how silly it was to be confused.

It was a brilliant bash, my darling, but it seems this lock is just much too sturdy :(

Don't fret! I'll find a way to open it eventually! Do try to stay away from the tools though, dear. We wouldn't want you hurting your soft delicate hands!

Yours, Alastor

P.S.

I'd prefer a little less char on the meat this time! Haha!

You tried to reread the note several times, wondering if your husband was pulling your leg again. 

You broke this lock, you knew you did.

You swung a hammer at it thrice and it broke. 

Thrice? Or was it four times?

Whatever, the count didn't matter.

Or did it? 

You remained where you stood, confused at what to believe. The note still clutched in your hands.

Did you really break the lock last night? Or were you just so desperate to get something right that your fooled yourself into thinking that?

If you broke the lock then why was it still there now? Why would your darling husband tell you otherwise?

The only reasonable conclusion was that you didn't.

Surely, that made sense, right?

Your eyes stared at the note. Alastor's name seemingly bright against everything else. 

No other possibility made sense. Besides, if Alastor trusted you enough to marry you, it only made sense to return that privilege.

Right.

Your eyes lifted from the note, to the kitchen in front of you. The mess you made still loud and present and ugly. 

There was no use standing there fretting over such a silly, pointless, thing. Not when you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Who really cares about a dumb little lock, anyway? Didn't you have such a long list of tasks to do today?

Like proving your worth

To yourself

To the world

To your husband. 

Part 1 of 2 I hadn't intended for this fic to run as long as it did, and the best part was yet to come. It would have taken ages to get this out if I didn't cut it into half. Anyway, Read part 2 of 2 here!

[insaneinpink]

Every time I look at the news I wanna kill myself, the world is a hellscape and I’m tired of living in it.

[uncanny-tranny]

The idea that children are inherently duplicitous, manipulative liars is genuinely doing harm to children and further obfuscates when genuine harm/abuse is occurring because, "what can the adults do, children are demons!"

The idea that children have divine knowledge that transcends adults' own knowledge and they use that knowledge for personal gain is, simply-put, abuse apologism. You are aiding and abetting abusive behaviour from adults, parents/guardians, medical professionals, whomever it might be.

[mommyclaws]

darkstripe for your tigerclaw mentor au?

I hope to do alot with Darkstripe, I want to explore how he’s the ideal example of what Redpaw, Longtail, or even Ravenpaw might have become if things had gone just alittle differently… Tigerclaw is cunning and manipulative, he’s very purposeful and strategic with the tactics he uses to get into younger cats heads, whether through a fake sense of unity or targetted insults. It’s what he uses to try and manipulate Redtail and Ravenpaw, except both of them were able to see Tigerclaw for who he is, whether by their own conclusions or fear of him. Darkpaw didn’t have that realization until much, much later in his life, when he was already set in his ways.

I want the narrative to be sympathetic towards Darkstripe as a genuine victim of what he’s been taught, but still acknowledge him as a bad person. He was raised to act and think in the hateful way that he does, but when given the option to make decisions for himself, he still actively chooses to do the wrong thing. He’s a sort of parallel to Fireheart.

Personality wise, he is very bitter, stoical, and lonely.

Darkstripe was taken into the clan as a rogue kitten, he has no biological kin and joined the clan at a time when hostility towards outsiders was extremely high due to Pinestar’s leave moons ago. He made very few relationships while he was young in favor of focusing on his training and soley trying to please his mentor for praise and a sense of acceptance. He’s rarely seen spending time with anyone who isn’t Tigerclaw, Leopardfoot (<- His adoptive mother) or a former apprentice.

Despite this, he is still generally respected as a warrior and known to be a great teacher. (Based on the fact he received three apprentices in a short span on time) I think mentoring cats is one of the only ways Darkstripe knows how to form lasting bonds because his most important relationship, with his step-brother, Tigerclaw, is based on Tiger being “above” or in command of him. So he keeps that sort of dynamic with Longtail and Dustpelt even after they’re warriors. Unknowingly repeating the cycle that’s turned him into such a lonely person.

When Firepaw joins the clan, he is VERY desperate to impress and ingrain himself into Tigerclaw’s social circle. Because Tigerclaw has begun to normalize xenophobia in his head, instead of wanting to avoid the group that seems to hate his heritage the most, it actually makes him more eager to be seen by them. Firepaw feels like being “one of them” would be his ticket to being “accepted” into the clan, but in reality he’s cluelessly and willingly falling victim into being manipulated into the very same views and ideals that ostracized him in the first place. Just like Darkpaw.

On a lighter note, out of all of Tigerclaw’s circle, Darkstripe takes the longest to start tolerating Fire, from a genuine dislike and a bit of discomfort from how much of himself he sees in him… Firepaw is very upset about it! He and Graypaw came up with all sorts of silly attempts to get his attention.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Given that nightmare is old as balls and a massive asshole, do yall think he ever talks down to killer (especially while hes in stage 1) and treats him as if hes a dumb annoying child whenever killer does something he doesn’t like or makes a mistake.

And as punishment he makes killer do embarrassing easy tasks as if killer isnt capable of doing anything more complex (he is), takes his things away as punishment such as his phone. Try to convince killer he is naive and doesnt know how the world/multiverse actually works whenever color is discussed.

Convincing killer that he needs nightmare for stability and protection, that he needs nm telling him what to do because he clearly can’t even care for himself. Treating him as if hes more a disobedient child or a malfunctioning tool whenever killer tries to assert himself or expresses any emotion or opinion. Always monitoring him.

Only really giving him some margin of ‘respect’ when hes in stage 2, as if to reinforce the message that emotions/his stage 1 self make killer weak and vulnerable and naive. And that anyone would see how easy it is to control him.

[dimonds456]

It is not okay to speculate whether or not someone is suicidal. If they claim to be, you should 100% take that shit seriously and give them the benefit of the doubt.

That said, if someone is using their own suicidality as a weapon to gain sympathy, emotionally manipulate someone, or to push other people down, GENUINELY fuck that person. While it's not okay for us to doubt that statement just because they're weaponizing it, that also doesn't mean we need to ALLOW that manipulation to convince us of something.

If you feel the need to use your terrible mental health as a step-stool in a conversation to make your side more heard than the other, you need to take a step back and re-evaluate yourself. And I am saying this as someone who ALSO has shit mental health and has been in the trenches with it before. I get it. I understand. But also STOP.

It's tempting to want to save your own ass over recognizing where you've gone wrong, but just a word of advise: recognizing where you've gone wrong WILL save your ass and give you better mental health and wisdom down the line.

However, emotionally manipulating people absolutely will not.

[poisonousquinzel]

"the only reason Harley's called Harley Quinn and not Harleen Quinzel or some other moniker is because the Joker manipulated her into thinking the similarity in her name and the name of a specific type of clown meant they were destined to be together and that means she's intrinsically tied to him forever and can't exist as a character on her own because her origin is tied to him" ass take has gotta be the worst one I've seen as of late,,, like really can't lie it's stuck in my head lol 😭

i wish i could go about life misunderstanding characters this much and thinking that one who's been a canonical domestic abuse victim since her og origin episode / comic, who is partly (story wise) inspired by a real life dv victim who survived

In the afterword, artist Bruce Timm shares that their Harley was based in part on a real-life friend who was stuck in an abusive relationship: “I’m happy to report that the ‘real-life Harley’ did finally break away from her ‘Joker’ and has been happily married to another man for several years now.”

[Source]

is a character who's "girlbossified" when she's allowed to grow past and outside of her abuser himself,, and that that means idk writing her without him dilutes her character and takes away everything interesting and flawed about her? that she should never be written without him / without her world revolving around him, due to him being the catalyst in her origin?

The Joker's part of her origin because he was the root cause of her fall, the villain, the bad guy, the abuser. that doesn't mean she's required to be forever tied to him?

This isn't even a problem in the actual comics or anything. It's just absolutely 100% not.

No one even pretends Joker isn't intrinsically tied to her story, or more specifically her trauma. No one in real life and no one in their universe.

Tim Drake literally mentioned The Joker in like the last chapter of her (2021 - ) comic ffs!!! 😭

"Did the Joker make you want to do that? Do you wanna unpack that, Harley? Do you wanna talk about The Joker?!"

Harley Quinn (2021-) #42

But it's almost like people grow and heal and evolve. Her codependency and shit are flaws that are not permanent and are things she (can) and is working on.

She's riddled with flaws and they've gone nowhere! she's just trying her best to stay afloat and better herself bit by bit because she isn't Dr. Harleen Quinzel anymore, she can never walk into a medical building and apply and expect them to not know who she is upon a singular search in the system.

She's just Harley Quinzel now, she still has the skills and experience and schooling, but she also has a long serious criminal record, severe mental health issues and is living in a city that rightfully does not trust her. She can't go back, she can't get her old life back, and she can't go back to being Her, The OG "New & Improved" Harley Quinn who's world revolved around 1 person and him alone, because she would die.

He'd kill her, maybe not immediately, but he would be the death of her.

And she knows that. It's a lose lose.

The only real option she has is to lay down and die or to survive. To float and swim bit by bit until she finds stable ground.

Until she finds a way to live with herself again.

Harley's "obliviousness" is a coping mechanism that we literally see her dealing with since BTAS.

A warped world view that does in fact make her actions more complex,, and makes the aftermath / come down all the harder for her as she has to grapple with the internal traumatic response to Everything with Joker while also dealing with the world she's waking up to and realizing the real reality of her actions and the actual pain it left behind. It's literally been in her character plain as day since her First Personal Comic from 2000!

It's something taken seriously and something she knows, regardless if she even remembers the crime, that she has a responsibility to take accountability for. She almost lets Clown Hunter execute her because she was involved in his parents death, even though she doesn't remember the night, she trusts Batman enough that if he says she was there, she was. And she's going to own up to being there. She starts a therapy group for ex clowns post Joker War, she's become a (court ordered) professor and during all of these arcs Joker and his influence on her and her life are mentioned and acknowledged and present.

He's not been removed as an intrinsic aspect of her story, but he is no longer the center of her world and that is a good thing.

It's almost like character growth after 30 goddamn years is something that happens.

And! you know who else is intrinsically tied to Harley Quinn's character just as much as The Joker?

Poison Ivy and Batman.

Her three primary connections since the Beginning, since the original series that everyone wants to pretend was so so different about her than it ever was, was Joker, Batman and Ivy.

And a primary goal (Harley wise) for 2/3 people she's been connected to since Batman The Animated Series has literally been to get her away from the 3rd. They've just successfully helped save her in most universes now, even when she's the one who pulls the trigger in the end.

It's been over 4 years since I made this blog and I still cannot wrap my head around this fandom's deep seeded hatred and disdain for actual character development.

"Sorry", but that's just such a disgusting take built on misinformed foundations and idk a personal rage for bad guy characters not being bland, predictable one note entertainment for the rest of their miserable existence in comics until they're shelved for being fucking boring one note d-list characters?

[girlintodust]

thank you for actually being nice and thoughtful about your ed on here <3 so many nasty pro ana blogs and people are always so disgusting to people who are bigger then them…like I understand why they would feel that way because it’s apart of their OWN ed but it’s so wrong to push it onto other people, especially people who are enjoying themselves and haven’t done anything to anyone. Just wanted to say how appreciative I am that you’re actually nice and not judge mental 😭💖💖

please, you're going to make me cry 🥺

first of all thank you for saying this, it makes me so happy to know that i'm doing something right. i have no desire to influence or promote something as damaging as an ed, it's not something one should be proud of having, even less to wish on someone else. even when i've had active blogs in the past focused on my disorder I have never ever once made nasty comments about other people's bodies, and I have never understand people who would, your struggles with your body image are no excuse to be mean.

me struggling with it, knowing how miserable it is to live like this, makes it impossible for me to judge others. and if there's someone who does that to you, I'm so so sorry. thank you again for your kind words 🤍

[van1llam1lkk]

Bitter Cravings

[ sfw | TW ; Manipulation, Feederism, Implied Sexual Content, Dubcon, Mentions of Terrorism and Homicide, Coercion As well as some General Yandere content but it's very subtle, Smoking, There's a scene where smoke is blown into your mouth]

Female Yandere x GN Reader

Mei hums a oddly familiar tune to herself, her gentle smile never wavering from her face as you hesitantly ate the dessert she had prepared for you.

"Do you have to watch me eat?" You ask, ending the silence that was only punctuated by the clinking of your silverware and Mei's humming.

"But of course, I have to make sure my Darling eats their fill." She remarks, propping her chin up with her hand. "And you are entertaining me, no? In turn I..." She trails off, clearly already forgetting what the original deal was.

"You give me information about this place in return," You remind her, irritated at her short-term forgetfulness.

"Oh yeah! Yeah, so hurry up and eat- you want that information don't ya'?" She pauses before adding "Pretty please?"

You stare at her for a moment before turning back to your plate of chocolate cake. Gingerly, you cut the rich velvet cake with your fork, somewhat embarrassed that Mei is watching your every move. When you take the first bite, it is an explosion of flavor - dark chocolate, ganache and vanilla cake melting together in your mouth. And with each little bite of yours her gaze bears down on you harder.

The dessert was delicious, but the fact that you were being watched so intently made the experience rather off-putting and Intimate in a uncomfortable way.

"This is way better than what they have around here," you say, in an attempt to avoid an awkward silence.

"Yes, there are several farms in my faction. So, unlike the subpar products we sell to you, we just keep the high-quality items for ourselves or outside vendors." She waved her hand nonchalantly before continuing. "It's really nothing complicated."

You hummed in acknowledgment as you tried to think of your next question. "So... Whole water incident." She let out a loud groan and threw her head back in annoyance as she mumbled a colorful vocabulary or curses. Digging through her pockets, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and removed one small one from it—odd since she said she could make any product she wanted— and put it into a golden cigarette holder.

"It happened before I was born, so truth be told I can't give you many details. But in short, a large number of members bought large amounts of highly concentrated forms of Soman and released it in the subway stations The leaders behind the act were executed and the followers were probably just sentenced to life in prison." She hesitates for a second, trying to recall any other crucial details.

"There were several homicides that followed, targeting anyone in positions of power or people who leaked information about the incident afterwards. Their bodies were dismembered and strewn about. And after those two events, the government kept us under surveillance for a while— seventy decades if I'm right." It was strange how nonchalantly she spoke of such a heinous act of terrorism.

"We still are, now that I think about it, but they're less strict now; just have to get their permission when purchasing certain drugs."

"That's a little fucked up... You're talking as if it was no big deal and like there weren't hundreds of people that might have been killed because of it," you say, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice.

Mei scoffs in response, throwing an arm around your waist and pulling you close. She takes a deep drag from her cigarette Cabriole before blowing the smoke right in your face. As you blink away the cloud, she finally responds.

"Honey, this place is probably less corrupt than your own government, and that's saying a lot. Just because we had a couple of accidents doesn't make us all bad." Her hand tightens around your mid-drift as she continues speaking. "Besides, I'm more interesting than any of this rusty old place's history. And I can give you so much more than anyone else ever could."

She lays her head on your shoulder briefly before sitting on your lap and wrapping her arm around your neck.

"I don't get why you can't join up here; I give you so much already and all you do for me is come by a few times a week." An annoyed scowl appears on her features. "You'd be able to get so much out of being a member here."

“Would you ever want to try smoking?” Her eyes shifted, obviously interested in the topic. “Just inhale, alright?” Before you could ask for further detail, she leaned closer and blew smoke directly into your mouth, catching you off guard. You reflexively swallowed, triggering a coughing fit that made her laugh softly. “Ahh, so I take it you have no experience with this.” She twirled the golden Cabriole around her fingers as she examined your reaction. She paused for a few seconds, studying your face before leaning closer and pushing you back against the pillows.

"You're a pretty little thing aren't cha'? And such a willing participant, letting me use you for my own amusement" She teases, her voice clearly mocking you're willingness to do in exchange for a little information.

"But, I'm not done using you." She adds on in a whisper, those words being the only warning you get before her lips soft and warm pressed against yours, the taste of Tobacco lingering on her tongue.

her hand lightly tracing your chest as her hand wanders downwards. Stopping just above your waist where she lingered for a moment longer before giving you a light squeeze.

Mei pulled away from the kiss, her breath coming out in hot puffs against your neck. "You know," she began, "there is more to be gained by joining us than just access to high-quality goods." Her fingers traced circles on your waist, lightly messing with the waistband of your pants. "And I'm sure you know where I'm getting at, don't you?"

[wildbasil]

not contacting my mother on her birthday has, i think, finally hammered home to her that i was serious about going no contact. after all, sulking and ignoring is one of her favourite tactics, so i suppose it's normal she'd assume that's what i was doing.

but now that she's realised i'm serious, she's started getting relatives to contact me to say she's seriously ill. it's very predictable.

[inkblot22]

Idia and the expression of displeasure

Uh, shoutout to that guy who I thought was my friend, asked me if I wanted to hook up despite being over 1000 some-odd miles away, despite me being very openly not that into men and, more importantly, telling him very clearly that I have no interest in dating him specifically. You're so cool for that, man. I just love to feel like an object. The "something about me" is the crippling c-PTSD, anxiety, and possible psychotic illness rotting my brain and your reading of me as a "Creepy Goth Chick", thank you.

Anyway, I hope I was able to direct that shitty man behavior onto our beloved Idia. I did tag you, it's later on and if you'd like me to remove it, I can absolutely do so, just let me know. Also all I can think about is this vine.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

TW for verbal abuse, manipulation, emotional abuse, captivity, use of a shock collar, mention of physical abuse, Idia is an asshole, abusive relationship dynamics, lack of communication.

Idia is the type of person to believe he is pragmatic, when, in reality, he is rather mercurial. He will fly off the handle at the smallest thing but be completely unbothered by larger issues.

I imagine this could lead to a few problems for his dear, sweet partner. (By the way, I refer to Idia’s darling as his partner because that is what they have rationalized their situation to be, currently: they are Idia's captive partner. Idia doesn’t label them very often, and although he does call them his partner, he definitely sees them as an endearing pest, kind of. Despite them being there because of him, he often acts like they're a mouse or roach that popped up one day and he grew attached to.)

Idia is not the type to like striking or physically harming his partner. He’s the type to get rude and nasty, and play victim. This does not mean he doesn’t ever physically harm his partner.

See, that shock collar around their neck? We have previously established that this is connected to his technomantic energy, and his technomantic energy is connected to his inherent magic ability.

The collar is set up with a warning system. If Idia’s partner does anything he remotely dislikes or any set of pre-established actions that they are not made aware of, they will receive three low-voltage, quick-tap jolts of electricity right against the column of their pretty throat.

These actions include, but are not limited to: acting in any way to harm Ortho or Idia, attempting to harm themselves (this one had to be added after the hanger incident), walking too close to the door or the covered-up window, touching any of Idia’s current or past projects without permission, touching Idia’s gaming setup, ignoring Ortho (this only is put in place if Idia’s partner is hostile towards Ortho at any point, even just once) and refusing any food or drink given to them by Idia specifically. It's important to reiterate that Idia has not told his partner literally any of these rules. Much like the ways that some people train a dog, they have to learn the hard way.

After the three taps, Idia’s emotions and/or intentions dictate how intense the next shock is. Sometimes it’s a bored little zap, like a fourth warning to cut it out before he gets mad, sometimes it’s a rolling pulse that pulls them away from whatever they’re doing, sometimes it’s a tidal wave that literally brings them to their knees and makes them throw up. It really depends on the most annoying kidnapper in the world. 

Idia is very aware that holding this person hostage because of his own predilections and perversions is a wildly morally incorrect thing to do, but Idia also doesn’t give a steaming shit. He’s been given what he wants, having grown up as a member of the upper crust, and if he doesn’t get it given to him, he finds a way to get it.

This means that, as much as we all love him, Idia is a whiny pisslord. The second his partner doesn’t do what he wants, he’s grumbling about it, he’s whining, playing victim, getting huffy.

While that might not sound bad, please remember that Idia’s partner has a bunch of exposed wires situated with the intent of shocking them around their neck at all times, and the shock collar is connected to Idia’s emotions. While getting shocked in a more violent manner isn’t very common for them, it can still happen, and therefore it's possibly best to do a little eggshell walking.

Besides that, it’s not very pleasant to be around someone who is so volatile, even if at their most disappointed they just complain for a few hours or days. Having to deal with someone else’s displeasure in life while being more or less unable to discuss your own does not do wonders for your mental health.

Let’s go over some scenarios and the punishments connected to them.

Idia has been playing some online fighting game all day, pretty much ignoring his partner. He hears them move during a cooldown between matches, turns around in his chair, and asks demands that they come over and let him kiss them a little. Of course, Idia’s partner declines. In this situation, Idia would usually get upset and complain about it for a while, name calling included. His words and mood definitely have the vibe of, “How dare you breathe around me and then not let me touch and kiss you. That’s just leading me on, breathing around me.”

Idia’s partner made some cup noodles while Idia was taking a nap after he raged all night and well into the afternoon. He wakes up and sees them sitting in his gaming chair, facing away from his computer and eating. In this situation, Idia would straight up zap them for two reasons. Number one, they didn’t make him anything to eat, and number two, they’re not supposed to be sitting in his chair or at his desk. Anywhere near his computer/anything that could possibly be used to contact someone on the outside without supervision is a huge issue. Keep in mind that he never deigned to share this rather important rule with his partner.

Idia’s partner has a bad day and snaps at Ortho, shoving him away very, very gently. It almost goes without saying; they’re getting zapped to the point of unconsciousness, because Idia panics and then gets mad, in that order and in rapid succession. The emotions blend together for a moment which makes the jolt stronger. This is when the “no ignoring Ortho” rule would be implemented, because they’d better be really nice to Ortho for the next few months before Idia decides he can trust the two of them to interact without his watchful eye. He trusts his little brother, but he doesn’t trust his partner.

In honor of a certain discussion I had with @tht0nesimp (thank you so much, you're very insightful,) Idia’s partner has a meltdown (understandably) and starts throwing things, including a glass of water that was brought to them after they had a bit of a cry in the shower (stay hydrated, everyone.) The glass, still with the water in it, sails across the room and clocks Idia right in his pretty face, ideally breaking his nose. While it’d be understandable to assume that Idia would be mad enough to hit his partner with a jolt of electricity that would bring them to their knees, Idia is sensible enough to understand that this is a display of some form of hysterical emotions that his partner has been bottling up until this point. Therefore, instead of electrocuting his partner, he just starts complaining, more loudly than usual. It is not peculiar for his voice to rise in volume but not in inflection, we hear this in game, but imagine that just a bit louder and more whiny.

“Wow, and here I thought you were an adult. I can’t believe you can’t even control your emotions.”

“My nose hurts. No, don’t apologize. It’s your fault anyway. I don’t even want to know what you’d do if you were really mad.”

“If you want to make it up to me, you could- don’t make that face. Whatever, I knew you weren’t being serious. Whatever. Just ask Ortho to get me an ice pack and go sit somewhere away from me. It's fine. It's fine!”

[wisteria-whump]

i love when whumpees have nightmares that are so vivid and feel so long and real that when they wake up they can't help but just lay in their bed feeling the huge amounts of relief that none of it was real

[rubyof-thesea]

“she’s just the latest in a long line of people who will never understand us”????? FUCKING GROOMER OH MY GOD

[mad-hunts]

i like how barton went from being like... a hippie in terms of how he viewed sex in his early twenties, then kind of abstained from it for a few years / became sexually repressed, which... definitely isn't such a good thing. BUT then he became even more of a freak (and i do mean that in the good way this time LOL) around the time he started residency because WOW is that shit stressful. though that was also unfortunately around the time when he really started to spiral as well 😬 but we don't need to talk about that ahahhh

like the way this man learned how to express his sexuality REALLY came full circle in the end considering he was like 'yeah, back in the early days that i was in college, i was a freak. but now i'm not anymore... though do you want to see me do it again anyway?' like 💀 JSJSJ if he weren't so demented, i'd almost be inclined to say good for him, y'all LMAO feeling comfortable with your sexuality and perhaps even having a bit of fun with it (though maybe too much in barton's case, because he literally weaponizes it in order to lure in his victims. BUT once again, we don't need to talk about that right now psshhh. i actually fully intend on talking about that in the tags NGL) is more often than not a good thing after all