Experience Tumblr Like Never Before
Tw: Domestic Abuse - Blog Posts
Not to get controversial or anything but can we stop with making fun of women being abused by their husbands and playing it off as ‘straight culture’
a steadfast heart will conquer
summary: you show up at frankie’s doorstep in the middle of the night after your boyfriend gets violent. he invites you in and lets you stay with him.
pairings: frankie morales x fem!reader
word count: 2.5k
warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of bruises
At midnight, you speak in fragments.
“I’m at your front door.”
He’s more asleep than awake. He doesn’t have the brain to question you.
“It’s raining.”
He can tell. He can hear it through the phone and from his bedroom window.
“Can you come let me in? Please?” You ask, and before he can say anything, you hang up. He stares at his phone, but figures there’s a girl at his front door, waiting to be let in.
He takes a second to unlock the door, in his groggy state, and sure enough, there you are, in all your midnight glory, on his front doorstep. It’s more romantic in movies, he thinks.
There’s nobody outside except for you. The streets are desolate, and the lamplight is obscured by the pouring rain. It thuds off of your car that’s parked in his driveway, and he knows it’ll bleed in through the crack in the door that doesn’t quite meet the frame.
He’ll help you fix it tomorrow.
But right now, you lean into him, slowly, and wrap your arms around his neck. You're wet, he notes. Wet and cold. He’s sure you're soaked down to your socks. Hair, jacket, shoes, all dripping onto his hardwood floor. You're still on the steps, so he pulls you in, but you refuse to untangle yourself from him. The wind sounds even harder now with the two of you inside.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he mutters, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He pulls back to look at your face, but you're buried deep in his chest. He wishes it was under different circumstances.
The pouring rain punctuates every silence. He can feel you shaking.
You don’t answer.
He lets you not answer.
There’s a storm brewing in his chest. He has a sickening premonition as to why you’re here. He tries to ignore it, but his gut instinct is always right.
He shuffles awkwardly to close the door, and it muffles the rain. He can hear you sniffling now.
“What happened?”
There is only moonlight streaming in from the window over the couch. You keep your face buried in his chest when he flicks the light on. It’s harsh and bright and he grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you back to look at him but you don't remove your face from his warm, dry chest.
So he waits.
“What’s wrong?” he asks again, softer, in your ear. You rub your forehead on his worn t-shirt, and his arms find their way around your shoulders.
You find the strength to look at him from somewhere deep inside you, eyes red and swollen, eyelashes dark with tears. You squint almost imperceptibly, adjusting to the light. You’ve never felt more safe than in his embrace. Your noses almost touch.
The last and only thing he wants to do is kiss you.
He notices the red mark right away.
On your temple. His eyes soften. You watch him look at you, almost like it’s the first time.
“He hit me,” you say, congested from the tears.
Like he doesn’t notice. Like he doesn’t feel anger shoot up into his chest, heat and warmth and fire in his fingertips, down the back of his calves and aching his face. His sickening premonition coming true. He can’t come up with a single reason as to why he would do this to you. It makes fury throb in his bones. He can see your boyfriend throwing the punch and it makes him want to vomit how enraged he is.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks sincerely.
“Want me to hurt him? I’ll hurt him, you know I will. I’ll hurt him so bad,” he trails off, jaw hard and teeth grinding. Nostrils flared and lip twitching.
“No.”
He watches you rest your head on his chest, the side that your good-for-nothing dick stick didn’t punch, and he’s so careful with you, soft hands and rigid muscles.
“I just...” you start, and he’s listening. He’s listening to every word.
“I didn’t want him to hurt me. And I didn’t want to hurt him. So I... left. I went and sat in the CVS parking lot,” you admit. He figures you needed someone to talk to. He wanted someone to listen to. He’s wide awake now. He still has fight in his blood, so he repurposes it. He holds you, securely. Strong and firm.
“I was gonna fight back... but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I really didn’t.” you say. He closes his eyes. He steadies his breathing. How could someone so sweet, so powerful, so kind, end up with the exact antithesis of all of those things?
“I know,” he reassures, “I know you didn’t.”
You sigh shakily into his chest. He’s there for you. He’s steadfast and unwavering. You could collapse into him and you trust he would catch you, help you up, dust you off, or in your case, dry you off. But you don’t. You stand strong with him, and you let herself be supported by him. You yourself whole still. Shaky, and faltering, but whole, all by yourself. With him there, you feel a little steadier, resolute in your decisions. He supports you, and you love him for it.
“Can I stay here?” you ask.
“Of course,” he replies.
His clothes don’t fit you, but you don’t mind and neither does he.
Your hair smells like roses and rain.
You take his bed; he takes the couch.
It’s hard for him to fall asleep there, but he doesn’t mind that, either.
It’s four AM when you wake him up for the second time this morning. The grogginess is stronger than before, it seems. You’re on your knees in front of the couch, face level with him, and he jerks back in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest. His bare chest. His shirt is somewhere, he doesn’t care where. It got hot, he recalls.
“Y’scared me,” he mumbles. Would this girl let him get any sleep?
“Come sleep with me. I feel bad,” you say.
“Woke me up ‘cause y’feel bad?” he asks, and you can tell he’s irritated, but tired more than anything. Sleep carries heavily through his voice.
“No,” you clarify, “I woke you up ‘cause I had a nightmare.”
Now he’s the one that feels bad.
He lets you lead him to his own bed, but he makes a pit stop on the way to use the bathroom. He finds you curled up under his covers, staring at the doorway, waiting for him.
He smiles and joins you. He sleeps on his back. You sleep on your stomach.
He has one pillow. you have one too.
You both listen to each other breathe.
You throw an arm over his stomach. He rubs his thumb over your hand.
It’s not storming anymore, but you can both feel the electricity in the sky.
The old, squeaky mattress creaks as you move, swapping your pillow for his shoulder. It’s not as bony as you thought it would be.
You only wake up when his alarm goes off on the nightstand beside you.
You groan, and realize you’re curled up with someone in a bed that’s not your own. Your face aches as you relive the events of last night.
He wakes up when you shift to turn off the alarm, taking his time to notice you.
“Hey,” you say, in his shirt.
“Morning,” he yawns, not in his shirt.
“Thank you,” you start, but he cuts you off.
“No no no, don’t do that, don’t make it...” he trails, sitting up in bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes again. All things considered, he got some decent sleep. He thinks it might have something to do with the warm body that was pressed up against him all night.
“No, really,” you say. You sit criss-cross on your side of the bed, and he has to remind himself that it’s his own bed (singular), not your bed (plural), and the whole bed is his bed. But for now, he can say it’s your side of the bed. At least to himself.
“Thank you for being there for me.” you say finally. He smiles at you.
“Of course.” He whines as he yawns, and things are okay for now. The storm is over.
“You want breakfast?” He asks, getting up and stopping at his dresser to put on shorts. His boxers were fine last night, but now that the sun is shining through the window, it’s kind of weird. He pulls on a shirt too.
“I have taquitos,” he says walking into his kitchen, and you squint at him, hot on his tail.
“Taquitos for breakfast?” you ask skeptically, and he makes his way over to the freezer.
“Taquito time is all the time.” He clarifies, taking the cardboard box from underneath a tub of ice cream and a bag of frozen peas. He freezes, before he turns around to look at you.
“Do you, uh, want some ice for that?” He says, and it takes you a second to realize what he means.
You touch the bruise softly, applying light pressure and wincing when it hurts.
He notices and puts the box down on the counter, wrapping the peas thoroughly in paper towels before handing them to you.
You nod a thank you, and hop up on his counter, holding them to your face.
He notices his shirt on you again, and his shorts on you, and how domestic this would be if that mistake hadn’t laid his hands on you. Though he does admit, you probably wouldn’t have been here in the first place without that run in.
He thinks he’d rather never see you again rather than have you come to him hurt like that.
He moves over to you, and carefully moves your head away from the cabinets holding the dish ware so he can open it. There’s tension in the air. He plates the taquitos and you listen to the buzz of the microwave as they warm up.
Neither of you touch your respective phones while you eat your taquitos. There are decisions to be made that will have consequences. You glance at your phone, but look away each time. Your eyes never meet. You both focus on the plate of miniature crunchy tortillas made with fake corn, filled with beef that was probably artificial. Neither of you mind.
After breakfast, or what could be sufficed as breakfast, he watches you finally check your phone.
“seventeen missed calls,” you read, “and thirty something texts.”
“Wow.”
“Not as crazy as I expected,” you note.
“Wanna see if he left any batshit voicemails?” you ask, grinning. He’s less than excited. Your smile falters as you read the texts.
“What? What’d he say?” he asks, getting up from the table to read over your shoulder. You make no move to hide the texts from him and something like relief floods his veins for a split second.
“Nothing,” you clarify, “just that... he’s so sorry… how he’s such a terrible person, that he’ll never do it again.”
He stares at you.
You ignore the messages and lock your phone.
You look up at Frankie.
“So?” he asks.
“So?” you ask back. He clears his throat.
“What are you gonna tell him?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, grabbing the empty plate and sliding past him. You turn on the faucet in the sink and wait for it to get hot.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but you don’t respond.
You add soap to a sponge and start washing the minimal dishes there: a bowl, a few spoons, your plate, a whisky glass.
He stands by you, grabbing a hand towel from the countertop and wiping the dishes down before putting them away.
“Why don’t you have a drying rack?” you ask, as he puts away the last of the glasses.
“I dunno,” he says, “I don’t have that many plates and forks and stuff, so I just dry it and put it away as I go.”
“Hmm,” you remark, and turn off the faucet. He hands you the dish towel and you wipe your hands dry before folding it and placing it on the counter. You look at him and sigh. The elephant in the room is demanding your attention.
“What do you think I should tell him?”
He stares at your bruise, and he feels the anger from last night bubble up in his throat again.
“That you’re gonna send me to beat him the fuck up.” He says, and you roll your eyes, staring at him endearingly.
“I’m not getting back together with him.” you say, and he feels his heart do some weird stuff in his chest.
“It’s over for us. I’m breaking up with him the next time I see him.” you say, a finality in your words that make him confident you would do as you said.
“Good.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one side.
“Should I go see him today?” you ask.
“Do you want to?” he questions. You sigh and shake your head.
“You’re no help.”
“Hey! I’m so much help,” he defends, and you smile at him.
“Sure.”
“I can go with you if you want,” he says seriously. You stare at him.
“If you want,” you offer, and he nods his head.
“Okay.” you say.
He watches you grab your phone and your now dry clothes and make your way into his bathroom. He listens as you close the door and waits until he hears the water start running, accompanied by soft music.
He squeezes the bridge of his nose and takes a second to examine the thawing bag of peas on his kitchen table.
He smiles to himself as he makes out the lyrics of your song.
As he puts the bag back in his freezer, he runs a nervous hand through his hair and stares at your car in his driveway.
He wants nothing more than to bruise you up himself, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your hips.
But that thought is fleeting. He gets closer to the bathroom and can hear you singing clearly, and he takes a second to listen before he speaks.
“Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick look at your car, okay?”
The water turns off.
“What?”
“I’m—I’m gonna go look at your car!” he says loudly, “the leaky door!”
There’s quiet for a moment before you’re unlocking the door, in only a towel. His towel.
“Thank you!” you beam, and with one hand clutching the towel to your chest, you hand him your car keys.
“They were in my pocket. It’d be kinda hard to get in without them,” you joke.
“Yeah, ‘course.” He grins lopsidedly, keeping his eyes a respectable distance from your naked torso.
With a smile, you close the door in his face.
The music resumes, as does the water, and Frankie breathes.
It would be a miracle if he made it through the day without sending someone to the hospital.
I'm not the type to reblog these but please share as much as you're able to!
speaking up about the abuse from the English VA of Fire Spirit Cookie, Austin Lee Matthews/Amtrax, and their partner. trigger warnings for sexual assault and victim blaming.
Before I take my hiatus if you are on bluesky , I posted a thread of information about the horrible actions I've been facing from voice actor Austin Lee Matthews, voice of Fire Spirit Cookie, and their partner.
if you cannot access the site, essentially, lunarwolly had intentionally AND ADMITTED to stealing my self insert, and then went to my arrested rapist, under the pretense of not believing what happened to me, having them draw it, with sprinklings of victim blaming and playing victim for MONTHS after. I've made posts about him, themoonbunni, in the past, but I'm further pushing this with the knowledge of his boyfriend voicing fire spirit cookie, and having personally worked to silence me.
trigger warnings for stalking, fake-claiming dissociation/ableism sexual assault, harassment, victim blaming, silencing, mocking, character and art theft, and self harm/relapse below
Lorelei, as shown by the thread, has had an uncomfortable attachment to my identity online and even spoken about me before I knew they existed, often disparaging me and harassing and stalking me. Even voicing things about my dissociation to an uncomfortable degree, trying to fake claim.
Trigger warning for sexual assault and rape, and victim blaming.
So we'll start off and show the context. As you can see in the thread, lunarwolly has done varying degrees of copying. For years. Even making my personas feminine of female.
He tried to throw a fit and say he did it first. I owned the hoodie irl. Thus why I used it.
Ok so copying.
Not that bad.
At first.
This was my sona for a good long ass time. The bunny hoodie I owned irl. He can't even use the excuse cuz it's on his throne to buy for him.
And the haircut was MY CUT.
HE WAS JUST ME.
So imagine my shock when this happens
Someone reached out and told me he stole Kirby and I was PISSED. CUZ ITS UGLY AS SHIT
He denied up and down for a long time it was very unintentional.
He planned to steal ALL of my characters.
This is public knowledge.
And I made it so before Austin said
What he did. Now we get to the real fucked shit.
This document is about my arrested and proven rapist. He was let out of jail on the excuse of mental illness.
There's even audio evidence of him threatening harm.
Why do I bring him up? ….well… Lorelei has done this. Lorelei went to my rapist With the knowledge about what happened to me And had them draw the STOLEN COPY of my persona. Imagine how violating that felt.
His response when caught was…..
…not good. To say the least. Even downright victim blaming.
He was confronted by someone, and even tried to brush it off, who then came to me in their disgust.
I literally have a screenshot of him admitting he wanted that drawn, so he also lied about not wanting it to be.
"This person wasn't convicted" They were arrested. Sent to jail. Mugshot and all. Bailed out by their mother. How DIFFICULT is it to convict someone for rape? I was STILL RAPED.
I still have the trauma The seizures I had the bruises from it. This event, seeing the character that represented myself, drawn by my rapist, caused me to relapse.
I'm especially voicing this as someone who's a sexual assault survivor and this is during sexual assault survival awareness month. Because what has happened to me is downright horrible cruel, and unjust. Especially with the recent doxing threat that I've received.
I will absolutely not stand by and let someone voice in a game knowing that they are dating someone who went to my rapist, and they themself tried to silence me behind scenes in a very unprofessional and horrific manner.
This has evidence behind it that cannot be disputed with screenshots showing malicious intent from both angles.
Neither party has reached out to me to have a discussion about this, and I did offer
Austin had the ability to many months ago. I was blocked.
Now that I know that they are voicing in this game after what they've done to me, I will not sit silent.
ESPECIALLY during sexual assault awareness month, knowing that their partner actively went to my rapist after they were arrested and found guilty of what they had done to me. Simply because they don't like me.
I genuinely hate burdening the fandom with such horrible news, while everybody is galavanting and celebrating such a wonderful update that they're excited for. But this is injustice, cruel, and abusive. And I won't stand for it. I've never received an apology for how I've been treated and last night on my straw page I received a vague threat of legal action with gas lighting me telling me that I'm lying.
This implies that I am lying about my assault.
Because their partner went to my abuser.
I want you to let that sink in.
Fact that the release of this is even happening during this kind of month after this happened to me just feels like a slap in the face I do not forgive and I do not forget Especially after being recently threatened with doxing.
And all because I said the words I just want to be left alone
I don't want harassment
I don't want anything cruel to happen to the people involved
I just want to be heard
History with their partner
Austin's personal involvement in this, and why I'm voicing myself, as a victim of this harassment, and these actions were so severe, involving my rapist, that their partner they defend did, I did in fact self harm.
the date of the image that was posted by my rapist and self harm are the exact same for a reason
One final say before I go I want people to understand that I'm not just saying this because I'm upset. This isn't just me being mad. This is a deep form of trauma that I faced at the hands of their partner.
Had Austin not personally been involved, and had I not personally been given this recent doxing threat (which very clearly has intent against me involved with this person because they've always voiced I stole liking bunnies from him for some reason), I wouldn't be making this post.
I want you to put yourself in my shoes for one single moment.
I was brutally sexually assaulted by someone, held hostage in an apartment for one week by them, I had my agency and free will taken from me. The knowledge about what this person had done to me by the point that lunarwolly/bunni had gone to this individual with malicious intent by their own admission, was indeed public knowledge. VASTLY. Wolly already knew about it and was very much talkative about it on their page. They were constantly debating if it even happened to me.
I want you to imagine that the person that doesn't like you online for some very inexplicable reason that you cannot put your finger to, SINCE BEFORE YOU KNEW THEY EXISTED, went to the very person that brutally sexually assaulted you, beat you, starved you, and did very inhumane things against your will to you until they were arrested for what they were doing. Simply because they don't like you on the internet.
And then someone they knew in the industry used their power to try to silence you behind scenes. To tell people to not listen to you. Over PETTY AND VERY EASILY PROVABLY FALSE CLAIMS. I have proven time and time and time and time again that it has been the other way around. FOR YEARS.
The only reason these posts were being made, GENUINELY, was the biased against me because of wolly/bunni. I have dealt with this for Years, since 2021. And I will continue to voice myself until I'm actually heard.
And especially knowing someone in the industry use their power to try to silence me and is now in a video game that has brought me comfort. I won't sit by and be silent.
Austin needs to take accountability.
This is a continually traumatic situation for me. And until I get proper apology and accountability, I would like this to be heard.
If people could voice against a voice actor in genshin, people be able to voice against this one as well.
Invalidating sexual assault, Especially with self-admitted malice, is downright horrible. But using your power in the industry, in voice acting, ANY, to silence that victim? SHAME ON YOU.
That's my final words. If you have any questions you're free to DM me and I may get back to you, but it could take time.
I don't feel comfortable with fire spirit cookie. Not after this. Even knowing he voices in persona 3 has made it very difficult for me to want to play it.
If you have anything to tell me Austin you may message me personally. Because what happened, especially trying to brush it under the rug or act like it didn't, won't fucking fly w me.
Teddie's voice, a mere whisper against the pounding of her own heart, trembled as she spoke. "Seb, I'm so sorry. I didn't know where else to go." Her eyes welled up with tears as she met his gaze. "He... he hit me again. I couldn't take it anymore." The words escaped her lips in a choked torrent, each syllable a testament to the fear and desperation that had driven her to his doorstep. Her body shook as she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, needing some sort of comfort.
banging on his door this late in the evening was unexpected - sebastian didn't often have much company none the less so late. rolling out of bed he rubs his hands over his face and opens the door to see the other standing before him. "everything okay?" he asked looking them over. // @littledaydreamers