Nico Coer (nicocoer) wrote in gin_and_tonic,
Nico Coer

  • Mood:
  • Music:

A Look on Why we put sexual abuse/abuse in our fiction and an Overdew fic.

IN the POU Yahoo! Group, the subject came up on WHY people enjoy/like/find sexy about abuse in fanfic, piticularly sexual abuse. I wrote a response that I'm rather happy with, and thought I'd share with you.

Okay, here's a few points to keep in mind when it comes to sexual asult and/or abuse in Fan Fic, or even just fiction in General. NOTE: Beware trippy psychology shite!

* WE LOVE MOST THAT WHICH WE HURT. We are, to be utterly frank, a sadistic people. Culture in general tends to be. How ever, we aren't on our general culture, so more spcifically, On to fiction. When we "hurt" those we love, it makes us Feel more powerful. It also makes it so that we have some one depending on us. And it conducts a powerful emotion from the one being hurt: fear. Now, as far as powerful emotions go, there is one quote that rings rather true that i found: "The oppisite of love is not hate; it's indifference" now, before you get on my arse about how can that be relevent, Fear is a powerful emotion, almost as powerful as love and hate. Fear controlls our actions. As does love or hate. And we feed off of Powerful emotions. And round this back up.... We like to see the ones we love in a hurtful situation, mostly because we can get them out, and because we like those we love to depend on us.

* WHAT HOLDS US BACK FROM DEATH IS OUR IMAGINATIONS. For some people, To act upon certian rather disturbing things is a huge temptation. to others, we wonder what such and such a thing would feel like. To have power over a certain person, or to be under the power of a person. And fiction of any sort is like a huge... stress ball, in a way. All those strange, socially unacceptable emotions and thoughts get poured out into a realitively safe spot. Fanfiction specifically, we can go and write about our deepest fantasies, weither they be To Have power and cause fear, or to Be under power and be afriad. With out our fanfiction, wiether it's horridly twisted and perverted (meaning unpure) or it's pure as the driven snow. With out this outlet, or some other outlet, What is there to restrain us from doing things we may regrett, just so we know?

* BUT IT'S MY PLOT! For some, however, my last point is not true. For some of us, it's just a good plot point, and one the writer knows will jerk our emotionsaround a bit. For some, it's OTHERS fantasy that we are fufilling; for others, We just want to cause our readers either pain or to get them thinking for once. It may just be a strangely appealing (in some odd way) Plot device. People are strange.

* LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON. LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER. Some people grew up in some pretty strange/perverted/twisted emviornments. Me, personally, When I was very young, My mum and da lived together. My father was an abusive person. Some of those things that happened to my mother because of him still bounce to me. And they continued to effect the way my mother thought about herself and realationships. My mother's child hood wasn't a fairy tale, either. her father wasn't abusive, but rather Dominant in hs personality. my mother grew up thinking that what ever Da says for Mum to do is what is to be done. As a resualt, she married two horrid people out of the three she has been married to: My father, and a man named Rick. My father was a drunk, and he was quite (and still is) babyish, and throws tantrums when he doesn't get his way. Rick was The dominatant person. He was a drunk, and was verbally and mentally abusive. Fortunately, my family is the Success story in most cases. Though I used to be on meds, and my mum used to be in bad realationships, all that has changed in the past year. but had we not tried to put our emotions and all that out there, We would still be where we were, or worst. I might have killed myself by now, I don't know. But the whole reason behind why that shite happened is because we grow up in abusive enviorments and then copy them. and fiction is a rather good way to let that out and to break the cycle.

Now, all that may make about as much sense to you as the Queen of england desiding that a pile of shite is the best place to take a nap, or it might be as clear as day to you. either way, I tried.

and a fic that I wrote ages ago and never got around putting up for you all, even though it was written for you.....

Reminisce in the Girl's Bathroom.

Rating: R

Type: pending

Done?: Hell yes.

Some times, it got so lonely.... Ginny cradled her head in her hands. Considering that she had to stay over at Hogworts for holidays, no wonder she was lonely. Too bad that he Barrow wasn't safe. And there really wasn't that much to do while every one was gone. Except... Ginny lifted her tear stained face. There was... one thing. Not the smartest thing to do, but then again, there was a reason she wasn't in Ravenclaw. She stood up, straightening her robes. Looking in the tall mirror, she observed her pale reflection.

"Ginny, girl, you need to cheer up, eat a bit more, and go out in the sun for once. You are looking entirely too pale. But you’re a beautiful girl. Remember. Beautiful..." She continued talking to herself for a few more moments before grabbing a notebook and quill. Time to bother Moaning Myrtle.


In Myrtle's bathroom, Ginny attentively knocked on Myrtle's stall. "Myrtle?"

"Go away!" The ghostly young girl cried from with in the stall. "Leave me alone!"

"Myrtle. I wanted to visit, because I figured you wouldn't mind my company... But I guess I was wrong. Thought we might have a nice chat..." Ginny started to turn.

"Wait!" Myrtle's face pushed through the stall door. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Tom Riddle."


Ginny sat on the toilet, a look of rapt attention on her face. Myrtle sat on the top of the stall door, Gloating at the attention.

"Well, He was a good looking boy, you know. But," Myrtle said, swinging her legs, "he was the meanest kid when the teachers weren't around. Really mean…He called me lots of nasty, nasty names. I think he picked on me because I didn't have wizarding parents. Mean, nasty boy...rather good looking...Anyhow, the teachers all thought he was the most wonderful student they ever had. Smart, knew the textbook by heart. Had everybody swooning... "

"Why, Mrytle! You liked him, didn't you?"

"He was good looking, that's all," Myrtle replied sticking her nose up in the air. "Besides, he was an ill tempered parentless meanie."

"Myrtle! It's a sad thing, not to have parents. To lose them."

Myrtle looked at Ginny as though she had spurted another head. "Oh, he had parents, once. I heard that his da was a muggle and was so repelled by the fact that his wife was a witch he left her to die in childbirth. Let Tom Riddle Jr. go to a nasty orphanage. In fact, I believe I heard from one of the students about 40 years ago that the orphanage was shut down on the counts that it was very dirty.

“The manager, if that's what you called him, did some rather nasty things to the kids, if you know what I mean. There were a couple of unsolved murders. Personally, I think that Tom was behind them. Anyhow, he grew up in the orphanage, came here, charmed the teachers and half the students. He was a bit... odd though. Superiority complex, I think they call it. He thought he was that much better then every one else, and more so with me and the other muggle borns. And...well, might as well tell you, your so nice, and no one likes me.

“They didn't then, they don't now...Anyhow, some times, when I was feeling bad and in here, crying, and hiding from the other students, I would hear him come in here. He would fiddle with some thing, say something else, and by the time I peeked out of the stall I was in, he was gone. He didn't go out the door; he just wasn't there. And the broken sink would leak more, too. I think he must have gone into the walls. A few times, I hear him come back. Horrid sound. Any how-"

"Where did you say he went?"

"I didn't. I said I thought he had gone into the walls. Well, actually, he didn't. He went under them. Like you did in your first year. Now-"

"Myrtle, that's not really something to make a joke about."

Myrtle looked at Ginny in disbelief. "I-I don't lie! You hate me! You don't want to talk to me. You’re just here to make me feel bad about being d-dead!" Myrtle wailed at Ginny. "You hate me-"

"Myrtle, my friend don't...I just...don't remember going down under the walls. I remember being there though. Only for a few moments, but..."

Myrtle blinked. "You were in there? He didn't kill you? He didn't hurt you?"

Ginny blushed. "That, Myrtle, would depend on what your definition of 'hurt' and 'death' would be."

"Hurt: to cause physical or emotional pain to a living thing," Myrtle said, rather straight faced. "Death: to no longer exist, i.e., death took her early, or 'it was the death of my innocence'. The end. Or, at least for most people, it's the end. Not for me, it seems."

"Then, yes, in a way he hurt me, and in a way he killed me."

Myrtle blinked. "You have to be lying. You’re not dead."

Ginny sighed. How did you explain emotional deaths and loss of innocence to a ghost who never felt them? Or had she? "I think I might as well tell you about what I do remember... "


Cold. So very cold. And the floor was so hard, so unforgiving...The floor? Ginny jerked up and looked around herself. It was rather dark, and so...damp. Standing not far away was a boy whose skin was pale and hair was dark.

"What... Tom? Is that you?"

Tom M. Riddle turned around. "You’re awake."

"Yes, I am. Tom, where are we? And why are you"

A slow grin crossed Tom's face. "Where are we? Why, Gin, we are at my ancestral a way."
"What do you mean? You didn't answer my second question, Tom. Why are you more here then you ever were? Why...?"
"Gin, Gin, Gin..." Tom walked closer, shaking his head. "My dear... So many questions, so many answers, so many points of view. You see, my dear, this, all this around you, is my...inheritance, you might say. The place my distant yet powerful ancestor created. Gin, my dear, can you guess who I am referring to? A most powerful...Who is it Gin? I know you’re intelligent enough, as you did try to rid your self of me. WHO IS IT?" He shook her.

Tears started to pour down Ginny's face. His hands hurt her. Not like the other times, when they were only like the wind, non-substantial. Gripping, now, hard..."Tom! Please, Tom, I-I don't know! You’re hurting me. Please!"

Tom looked at his hands, the knuckles white. He had no idea he was gripping that hard. He loosened his grip. "I didn't notice," he swallowed. "Gin, you do know. You do. You...Gin, you’re just far too loyal for your own good. Now, who built a hidden chamber here at Hogworts? Come on. The rumors have been flying about. You know this one."

Ginny's lip trembled. "No...Salazar Slytherin built it. But... how would we get in? Only his heir..." She gasped. No, it was not true, it was not true! Tom was far too nice for that; he made her happy, even if he made her do things that were bad.

"Yes. His heir. The heir to the power and Glory of Slytherin! I AM his heir. And you are feeding me to existence with Yes, life is the best way to put it. You are weaker, no? A bit dizzy, perhaps? That is why, my little Gin, you are giving your self more to me with every passing moment. Every breath, every thought, every emotion...every desire." He brushed his hands along her collarbone. "It seems that the purest aren't as pure in their thoughts, eh?"
Ginny blushed. "Well..."
"Ah...'well' doesn’t explain it. You want some want them so bad...I could give them to you, you know. Quite easily. Yes. And I will, as it would indeed please me...Gin, are you scared of power?"

"If you can read my thoughts so well, you should tell me."
"Ah, but it's so much better to hear it. Much more permanent than thoughts. Thoughts you will have, but no one can catch them, no one can know them. Words, when said, allow us to catch. And it's much more assuring. What is your answer?"

"No. Not really. It’s just that-"

Tom cut her off. "No 'just'. This...thing you want brings with it a sort of power." He touched his lips to her shoulder. "A sort of power that is very strong. In a way, a neutral power. It in itself is neither good or evil. However, if one uses it in a way, it can be either evil or good. Using it to manipulate for one's own goals…that makes it a shade of evil. To use it for the greater good makes it a shade of good. And what do you think I use it for?" His eyes slyly peered at Ginny.

"I-I don't know..."
Tom laughed, loudly and shaking his head. "Gin, I forgot that you are still a young child. Still trusting and far to young to understand the complicated matters that surround you. You most likely don't understand power."

Ginny stared indignantly at him. "Why, how dare you! You calling me a child! After all this, you rude, thoughtless pig!"

"Tech, tech, dear. Don’t use up your remaining energy on thoughtless words. Though, I must admit, I like it when you use your fiery energy. Something attracting, that energy. Draws me in...Most likely because you have some undeveloped power. You could have been very powerful, you know. But you had to be born to those muggle loving parents of disgraceful. They might as well be muggles. But, moth to the flame, which doth burn as it grows closer. Only this time the moth shall burn the fire."

Ginny knew what was coming. But never had it happened when he was this…well…this real. It exhausted her, and it almost hurt. But the pleasure drove out the pain...and, soon after, sheer exhaustion drove out the pleasure, or at least the consciousness of it, and she fell into a deep slumber, from which she awakened much later then she would have wished, as by that time, Tom was lost to her.


After she had finished relating these events to Myrtle, Ginny waited for a reaction. It took a few minutes, and then Myrtle said, "Well."
"What do you mean, ‘Well.’ You sound rather smug."

"Nothing, except that it was rather... illegal, wasn't it? Though, I must say, I would have enjoyed being in your situation. To do that with Tom Riddle! Why, that was every girl's dream when I was alive. To my knowledge he never dated. Just a few one night stands, I heard, and those where only with the most promising Slytherin girls. No hope for me, no...No hope for Myrtle, miss. Hogworts virgin, who would die before any boy would look at her twice. Yes, poor, Myrtle. I think I'll go feel sorry for my self in the u-bend now."

"Myrtle, I guess I shouldn't have told you. It made you so upset...Oh, dear, I feel so awful! What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Don't do any thing. Unless you could give me a more vivid description? I haven't heard that much interesting news since looking in on that orgy in the prefect's bath room!"

"Eh...Orgy in the prefect's bath room?"

"Oh, dear, I shouldn't have mentioned that...Now every one is going to know I spy on the male prefects while they bathe...But, you know, they have some rather good looking bodies."
"Myrtle, dear, please, don't tell me any more. Bad images. I'll come back tomorrow, Myrtle, and I'll give you full details."

"OH! One more thing I have to tell you, Ginny. Were you aware that you used to masturbate in here in your first year?"

Ginny turned red as her hair. "Not really..."

"Okay, I just thought I'd let you know. After all, I'd want to know if the what ever it was of Tomas Riddle was making me get off. See you tomorrow. Just don't forget I want all the details!"

Ginny went back to her dorm. Myrtle decided to go to the inn at Hogsmeade. There was bound to be some action in those big hot baths there....

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.