About the post of Mia's first relationships when she was young, why was Will more mad at her for kissing a boy and not so mad at her for kissing a girl?😮 Is there a particular motive?

Definitely. This phenomenon where a father reacts strongly to his daughter’s romantic involvement with a man is a well-documented psychological dynamic, often tied to unconscious notions of possession, rivalry, and control.

For a father like Will, whose relationship with his daughter is already marked by enmeshment, blurred boundaries, and an undercurrent of possessiveness, her interest in men can trigger an unconscious sense of loss. Unlike with a woman, whom he does not view as a direct rival, another man represents a tangible shift in his daughter’s affections. It is a perceived replacement, a symbolic transfer of emotional and physical closeness that he, on some level, resents.

A father’s jealousy toward his daughter’s relationships with men often stems from subconscious territoriality. While he may or may not consciously see his daughter as “his” in a romantic sense, he has always been the dominant male figure in her life. The introduction of another man disrupts that dynamic, introducing an external force that can challenge his influence. This is why fathers who exhibit these reactions often show more possessiveness toward daughters than sons (sons do not “replace” them; they are seen as extensions of the father himself).

Also, there is a cultural and psychological bias at play. Many fathers view their daughters’ heterosexual relationships through a lens of protection, often mixed with control. A male partner represents not only a sexualized presence but also a potential emotional and psychological threat. In contrast, a female partner is often perceived as non-threatening, almost neutral, because it does not disrupt the father’s role in the same way.

Specifically in Will and Mia’s case:

His daughter sees herself for him, her identity is built around him, and he unconsciously placed her in a conflicting triad of roles: maiden, mother, wife. His jealousy at seeing her kiss a man suggests that, on some level, he sees male partners as rivals, competitors for her attention, devotion, and even emotional caretaking. The fact that he does not react the same way when she kisses a woman is because he does not perceive female relationships as a comparable threat. In his subconscious, only another man can “take her” from him.

This reaction is not rational, nor is it consciously malevolent, but it is deeply ingrained. It is an emotional response tied to Will’s own possessiveness, unresolved emotional dependencies, and the psychological framework that has defined his and his daughter’s relationship. It is not about morality, sexuality, or even logic…it is about a primal, almost territorial sense of loss.

I could read about Mia and Will for hours on end. Will her childhood be explored in Rotten Meat?

Aw, they’re intriguing, right? It will be explored a bit but not that much. But I have a lot of content written. What would you guys prefer?

Will's frustration when he mention about the times people would stare at Mia-😭 Imagine Mia going like "yeah so, that's my dad." to her friends/classmates, and Will is actually a handsome man in his own, so now they'll understand why Mia is such a pretty girl😂

You can't tell me Mia won't tease her father about her classmate saying he's handsome 🏃🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

Mia leans against the counter, idly twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she watches Will take his first sip of coffee. His usual grumpiness clings to him, but there’s always a sharpness beneath it, something alert, watchful.

“So,” she starts, voice light, teasing. “I think I might start walking home from school.”

Will doesn’t look up from his coffee. “No, you won’t.”

She ignores him. “It’s just getting unbearable, you know? Every day, the girls won’t shut up about you.”

That gets a reaction. His fingers tighten around the mug, but his expression stays neutral. “Mia.”

“I mean, honestly, they have no shame.” She lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting her head at him. “Do you know what Charlotte told me today?“ She makes a forced voice, "‘I think your dad is so hot. Like, unfairly hot. I would literally commit a crime just so he could put me in handcuffs.’”

Will finally looks up, jaw tensing. “Jesus Christ.”

Mia grins. “I told you…No shame. And then Emma goes, ‘Do you think he’d let me call him Daddy?’”

Will’s face twitches—something dark, unreadable flickering across it before he scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s disgusting.”

Mia just shrugs. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I told them all you’re emotionally unavailable and impossible to live with.”

“I am emotionally unavailable and impossible to live with.”

“Yeah, but that probably made it worse, though. You know how girls are about the whole damaged and brooding thing.”

Will exhales sharply through his nose.

She leans in slightly. “And now they’re all begging to have a sleepover at our house. I think we might need to move away, change our names—”

“Enough,” he interrupts, but there’s something else in his voice now, something amused. He shakes his head, looking at her with that expression she knows too well—half exasperated, half entertained. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I am enjoying it,” she admits. “Because it’s funny. And also because you’re not arguing about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “About what?”

“That you’re hot.”

A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips. It’s brief, but she catches it. “Let them think I’m hot, so what?”

Mia gasps in mock offense. “Criminal—”

Will steps closer. His voice drops lower, quieter. “Maybe you should put me in handcuffs.”

The way he says it makes something curl in her stomach, warm and electric. Her breath hitches slightly, but she masks it with a roll of her eyes, forcing herself to scoff. “Shut the fuck up, get away.”

Will just smirks again, tilting his head as he studies her. “Don’t start games you’re too afraid to play, Mia.”

Mia huffs, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and biting into it just so she has something to do. “Whatever. Just know if one of my friends breaks into our house one night, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll be sure to lock the doors.”

Mia narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t push further.

I headcanon Mia stopped bringing friends over because they'd all get crushes on Will lol

Mia stands at the door, her lips stretched into a tight, artificial smile as her friend waves goodbye. “Bye! Text me when you get home,” she chirps, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

The second the door clicks shut, her whole face drops. She exhales sharply, rolling her eyes as she turns around.

Will, still lounging in his chair, watches her with vague amusement.

She strides past him, arms crossing tight over her chest, face set like stone.

His eyes follow her. “Something wrong?”

“No,” she snaps, too quickly.

Will tilts his head, smirking. “Mia.”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn.

“Mia.” His voice is lower this time, coaxing.

She lets out a sharp sigh, halting mid-step. Her fingers twitch at her sides, like she’s debating whether or not to say it. Then, finally, she whirls around, eyes narrowed.

“You know. It’s really weird when you flirt with my friends.”

Will blinks. Then, he scoffs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t flirting, are you insane?.”

Mia glares.

He leans back in his chair, sighing like this conversation is exhausting. “I was being polite, stop being crazy.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “Polite? She was practically melting every time you so much as looked at her, and you knew it.” She narrows her eyes, voice dropping slightly. “You liked it.”

His brows lift, like the accusation is absurd. “That’s ridiculous. And weird.”

“Is it?” she challenges, stepping closer now. “You know when people are reacting to you. You love acting like you don’t, but you do.”

Will shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “You’re overreacting.”

Mia crosses her arms tighter, fingers digging into her sides. “You think I don’t notice? The way you look at them, just enough to keep them hooked? The way you smirk when they get all shy and giggly? It’s disgusting.”

He laughs, low and quiet. “I think someone’s jealous.”

Mia’s glare sharpens. “I’m grossed out, not jealous.”

“Oh, of course not,” Will says, still smirking.

She clenches her jaw. “You know what? Forget it.” She turns to leave.

But before she can, Will grabs her wrist, stopping her. His grip is firm but not forceful. When she meets his eyes, they’ve lost their teasing edge. His voice is quieter now, measured. “Mia.”

She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t soften either.

He watches her for a moment, then tugs her just slightly closer, enough that the tension shifts into something heavier. “I don’t care about your friends,” he says, voice smooth, deliberate. “You know that.”

Mia stays silent, staring at him.

He tilts his head. “You don’t have to throw a tantrum every time someone looks at me.”

She scoffs, ripping her arm from his grasp.

Nope! Not too much, it was actually really fun to read!😭 love it when they tease each other, just to get out a reaction. I wonder how much Mia does it during the day and in which occasions

Will is an inherently conflicted man, struggling between his need for control and his inability to resist being drawn into chaotic emotional dynamics. His relationship with Mia is one of carefully maintained instability…he lets her push him, but only enough to keep himself in a position where he can push back harder.

Will thrives in ambiguity because it allows him to remain in control while appearing not to be. He never directly engages in emotional vulnerability but instead twists interactions into something that maintains his dominance. When Mia teases him, he never simply accepts the bait, he redirects it, reframes it, makes her question who’s really in control of the game.

This points to manipulative tendencies seen in individuals with high intelligence but attachment-related trauma. Will knows how to read people, but instead of using that knowledge for genuine connection, he uses it to stay one step ahead.

His reactions suggest a fear of emotional surrender. He keeps Mia close by playing the game, but never lets her feel like she’s actually affecting him, even when she is.

Will’s refusal to take Mia’s attractiveness or desirability seriously isn’t just paternal dismissal, it’s a form of psychological denial. He downplays it because acknowledging it would mean confronting emotions he refuses to face.

When he scoffs at her insecurities, for example, it isn’t just frustration; it’s deflection. He is aware of how others perceive her, and it affects him, but his refusal to validate it is an attempt to suppress the part of him that is affected.

His possessiveness, though masked in protective instincts, stems from the blurring of roles between father, protector, and something more subconscious. He isn’t just protective of Mia in a traditional fatherly sense, he is also territorial about her attention, ensuring she remains emotionally anchored to him.

The Oedipal dynamic emerges in the way he negotiates her desirability rather than outright rejecting the idea of it, he teases, redirects, manipulates, but never truly forbids. There is no firm line drawn because part of him enjoys the tension, even if it’s unspoken.

He was never properly parented himself, leaving him without a model for healthy father-daughter attachment. Instead, he relates to Mia in a way that feels familiar: through a mix of control, unpredictability, and emotional push-and-pull.

His identity is fractured—between the caring father figure he consciously wants to be and the darker, more possessive instincts he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

Mia, on the other hand, is equally as entangled in this dynamic. Her provocations are not just about playful teasing, they serve as a psychological test to confirm her place in Will’s world.

Mia constantly teases and provokes Will not because she wants to fight him, but because she needs to feel his reaction.

If Will engages with her, it reassures her that she has power over him. If he ignores her, it creates a sense of instability, so she pushes harder.

Her identity is tied to how much she can affect others, especially Will. The more she gets a reaction, the more secure she feels in her importance to him.

Just as Will wants to keep Mia emotionally tethered to him, Mia wants to ensure Will is hers.

When she sees her friends or others paying attention to him, it triggers jealousy and territoriality.

She has been raised in an environment where her emotional role in Will’s life is primary. There is no mother figure, no wife, she is the most important female presence, and she clings to that.

When she provokes him about other women noticing him, it isn’t just teasing, it’s a challenge. She wants to remind him that he belongs to her in the way she understands belonging.

Mia struggles with clear boundaries, not just in relationships but in self-perception.

She needs Will to recognize her presence, to see her, react to her, confirm her.

This leads to this excessive testing of limits, as seen in children who have unstable attachment with their primary caregivers. They create tension to ensure the connection remains active.

Their dynamic is self-sustaining because both Will and Mia feed into each other’s insecurities.

Will is manipulative, but he is also trapped. Mia is controlling, but she is also desperate. They are both aware of the dynamic but refuse to change it, because despite its toxicity, it provides something they both crave: certainty.

hii!! i’ve been seeing posts about Rotten Meat come up on my dash and i’m really excited to read the whole thing on ao3!! before i start, i was just wondering if Will is Mia’s dad in a literal biological way or a kinky way or a both way? sorry if this has already been answered or clarified!! hope you’re having a lovely day :D!!

Hello! Haha Will’s Mia’s biological father, he raised her by himself. The rest I think it’s better you answer for yourself by reading the fic hahaha 🤫.

I now headcanon Mia putting any kind of outfits and then asks Will what he thinks of them just to get a reaction from him🤔

Mia stepped into the living room, arms stretched out as if presenting herself on a stage. “Okay, what about this one?” She twirled in place, letting the short black dress she’d pulled from the depths of her closet flare slightly around her thighs. “Be honest.”

Will barely glanced up from where he was sitting, one hand absently rubbing at his jaw. “Too much.”

“Too much what?” She planted a hand on her hip.

He gave a dry, unimpressed look. “Too much you thinking you can walk out of this house wearing that.”

Mia groaned, spinning on her heel to disappear back into her room. A minute later, she was back, now in a fitted red dress, the kind that hugged every curve. She leaned against the doorframe with a slow smile, watching his reaction.

Will inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly. “You look like trouble.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She clicked her tongue and turned away again.

The next outfit was a top and a short skirt. She came out with a faux-innocent look. “This better?”

Will scoffed. “Now you just look like you’re trying to piss me off.”

Mia grinned. “I’m just showing you what I got. Why do you care so much?”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “I care that you don’t get ideas. Or worse, give other people ideas.”

She tilted her head, enjoying the way his fingers tensed against his knee. “Daddy,” she sighed theatrically, “if you’re so worried about what people might think, maybe you should stop looking at me like that.”

A long, suffocating silence stretched between them. Will’s jaw locked, but Mia could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed, how his fingers flexed like he was resisting the urge to grip something—anything.

Then he let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Go change, Mia.”

She lingered just a little longer, watching him.

Finally, she sighed dramatically and turned back toward her room. “Fine. But you’re exhausting, you know that?”

His voice followed her as she walked away. “Right back at you, kid.”

Ok but what about Mia costantly cuddling her dad? Like caressing his hair, a pat on the shoulders and hugs or kisses on the cheek?🥺 okay I'll just shut now...

She had always been like this. Soft, affectionate, without hesitation. As a child, she had climbed into his lap, pressed her cheek against his shoulder, wound her fingers into the loose threads of his shirts. And she hadn’t outgrown it. Not at ten, not at fifteen, not now.

Will barely looked up from his book when she settled against him, her body fitting into his side like it belonged there. Her arms slipped around his waist, her cheek resting just under his collarbone. She smelled faintly of shampoo, something light and sweet, something that still lingered on his sweaters after she stole them.

He sighed, flipping a page. Mia. A protest in name only.

She hummed, unfazed, fingers tracing absent circles against his ribs. She always did this—idly, without thought, as if some part of her needed the physical reassurance of his presence. And maybe it did.

Will lifted his arm to accommodate her, and she took it as invitation, curling closer, her breath warm against his throat. When he moved, just slightly, her hold tightened, the way it had when she was small, when she thought loosening her grip meant being pulled away.

He let his hand settle in her hair, combing through the strands slowly, the way she liked. She made another small sound, pleased, nuzzling into his chest.

Will exhaled, letting the book slip shut. She was warm, so terribly warm, and her fingers had stilled against his ribs, a slow, steady weight against him.

When did Mia and Will's relationship start to shift into something more tense and complicated?

It was the summer the world took her from him, and in her absence, something in him soured, or perhaps ripened…who is to say which is the more dangerous evolution? Three months, an eternity stretched taut and thin like sinew over bone, three months of a house emptied of her voice, and presence. They had demanded it, the faceless bureaucrats, the men and women who pried into matters beyond their understanding. She must socialize, they said. She must be among others her own age, learn their rites, their banal little games. And so, under the blade of legal consequence, he surrendered her to the world.

And she did not return as she had left.

She stepped back into the house, with the same limbs, the same hands, the same face, and yet there was something minutely altered, like a painting restored with new, harsher pigments. The sun had touched her skin in his absence, bronzed her like a relic pulled from the earth, her hair lightened, her gaze deepened.

Something had grown in the dark soil of distance, something restless, gnawing, unspeakable. He had raised her for years with an arm draped in velvet but a grip of steel, shaping her world to orbit him alone, filling the silence of their home with his voice so that she had no need to listen for others. But they had taken her away, forced her into the company of girls who laughed in ways he could not control, of boys whose eyes lingered in ways he had not sanctioned.

And his Mia had returned with a knowledge that had not been there before, some glint in her eye that was not learned from him. He watched her for signs of what had been stolen, for what had been given in return. And she, sharp as she had always been, knew it. Knew he was looking. Knew he had been wounded by absence. And she wielded that knowledge like a blade, pressing just to see if he would bleed.

She did not have to run to make him chase her; she only had to lean just slightly out of reach. And he, fool that he was, let her pull him deeper into the dark.

loooving all of this 🙊 do you think other father-daughter relationships in their social circle like mia's friends, highlight how different theirs is?

There are definitely moments, small, glistening things, that cast their world into stark relief against the lives of others. Instances where the mirror shifts and he sees, with unnerving clarity, just how different they are.

In a clinic once. The air is thick with antiseptic, with the low hum of nervous chatter and the occasional rustle of magazine pages. Mia sits beside him, languid, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Around them, the room is a constellation of girls and their mothers with clipped voices, with reassuring touches, with the easy rhythm of women accustomed to these visits.

Will is the only man.

A woman, polished, blonde, the sort who smiles with all her teeth, leans forward, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “It’s nice to see a father here,” she says, her voice dipped in something too warm, too pleased.

Will shifts. Shrugs. “There was no other option. I’m a single dad.”

That should be the end of it. But it isn’t.

The woman’s laughter is airy, weightless. She tucks a curl behind her ear. “That’s wonderful. Not many men would—”

Across from them, a girl scoffs, arms folded, expression twisted in something between disbelief and distaste. “I wouldn’t want my dad here anyway. That’s so creepy.”

Mia tilts her head, appraising the girl with an expression too sharp for a place like this. “If you’re afraid of your own dad seeing your body but not a random male doctor, I think you should call the cops.”

The girl blanches, her mother gasps, and Will feels the weight of a dozen eyes flicker toward them. He exhales, slow, measured, and mutters, “Mia.”

She shrugs. Unbothered. Unapologetic. She was right.

—

Another waiting room, another stark display of difference. This time, it is Will who is unwell, a sluggish weight pressing against his ribs, exhaustion coiled deep in his bones. And Mia who should have been sighing, watching the television they had there, or looking pointedly at the clock like the other teenagers around them, is not.

Instead, she is pressed against him, curled in close like she belongs there, her fingers brushing against his wrist, tracing absentminded shapes against his skin.

She watches him. Not the television in the corner, not the nurses flitting back and forth, but him.

“You’re pale,” she says, and before he can deflect, she’s tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, her brows knitting together in a way that makes his chest tighten.

Around them, fathers sit beside their children, silent, separate. Some of the girls glance up from their phones with vague disinterest before turning away again, while others tap their feet, sigh, check the time. An obligation. A duty.

And then there is Mia.

Leaning into him. Watching him. Worrying.

And he wonders, how many of these men have daughters who would look at them like this? Like something fragile, something precious?

Is obsessive questionnaire allowed?

What’s an example of a time Mia tested Will just to see how he’d react?

Has Will ever gone too far in one of their interactions and regretted it?

How does Mia react when Will tries to assert control over her in a more traditional parental way?

Does Mia ever fear Will, or does she feel completely safe with him no matter what?

It is welcomed!

1- It was summer when she did it. The sky was a bruised shade of violet, cicadas humming, the heat still clinging stubbornly to the air. Will had been inside, waiting, watching through the half-open blinds. And there she was Mia, his Mia, on the front porch, with some nameless boy, some pretty-limbed idiot who had no idea what he was walking into.

She kissed him. A lazy thing, effortless, as if she were offering nothing more than a passing thought. But Will knew better. He saw the way her fingers twisted in the fabric of the boy’s shirt, the way she angled her head, not toward the boy, but toward the window.

For him.

And something ugly, something ancient and terrible, ignited inside him.

He didn’t remember opening the door. Didn’t remember crossing the space between them. But suddenly, he was there, and suddenly, the boy wasn’t. He had stumbled back, some mixture of confusion and nerves flashing across his face, and Mia, standing perfectly still, that lazy little smirk playing at her lips, just watched.

She was waiting.

And it got ugly.

—

2- The regret comes like a shadow, slinking in the spaces between breath and bone.

He always regrets it.

It stains him. She stains him. A burden, a sickness, a beautiful, untouchable curse. He carries it for her. For the way the world would sink its claws into her, rip her apart if he let it.

It is his sacrifice.

And it burns.

—

3- She knows when to obey. It is an art, the way she slips back into place, the way she tilts her head, widens her eyes, plays the role she was made to play. His good girl.

But only when he forces it. Only when he grips her chin, when his voice drops into something hard and unrelenting. Then, and only then, does she listen.

But she is not afraid.

Not really. How could she be?

There are moments, fleeting, where she looks afraid, her breath caught in her throat, her fingers twisting against the hem of her dress. Moments where something inside her flickers, like a deer watching the flash of a hunter’s knife.

But she never runs.

Never from him.

Always to him.

oh god what was that uncomfortable moment for mia with the...was it pee? what happened???

I hesitated to answer this but. Sigh. Alright. TW.

When there’s pressure on the abdomen and bladder (like from thrusting, deep penetration, or clitoral stimulation), it can cause urine to escape involuntarily. This is common in SA. The autonomic nervous system (which controls involuntary bodily functions) can become overwhelmed, causing a loss of control over bodily functions, including urination.

Not sure if you're going to answer bc it might be answered in the fic plot but...I noticed Mia has something acidic in her body, possibly uti, or am I reading too much into it?

It won’t be directly addressed on the fic, no. The tags will be respected, and they say everything is implied and it will remain that way. So I will clarify this for you here. TW:

You are very observant! Mia does have an acidic issue. Forced or rough penetration, rough contact, or prolonged distress can irritate or damage the urethra, making it more susceptible to bacterial infections. Any pressure on the bladder during the act can also lead to inflammation, causing post-traumatic urinary discomfort.

I'm thinking about Mia needing to see an obg for the uti, my poor baby how is she going to do that without Will being involved? :(

Yeah. The first time she had to go, which I wrote about, was already stressful. The doctor kept trying to get Will to leave so he could talk to Mia alone. Will did end up leaving the room, it was a little chaotic because Mia ended up crying from fear of saying something wrong, and yeah. Let’s just say she never wanted to go back. But unfortunately around nineteen, she had to. That happened a little before where we pick up in Rotten Meat. He was stressed, she went on her own, he nearly passed out from anxiety until she got back, then he questioned her, or better yet, he took the bag she was carrying from the drugstore and took a look at what she bought. It was tense, but mostly silent this time.

“Should’ve told me.”

“I did.”

What if Will have been drinking too much, how will Mia react?🌷

Depends on what kind of drunk Will is that night. If he’s angry and mean she’ll lock the door and stay inside her bedroom. He can’t open it when he’s drunk, and he’s rough when he’s that way. Better to leave him be. If he’s sad then she’ll hoover, but she learned early that pity corrodes him. So she doesn’t speak softly. Doesn’t ask him if he’s okay. Drunk Will is one hell of a night.

Will Graham as an agressor is something most people aren't exploring a lot in fiction and it's so clear it wasn't explored in canon simply due to television restrictions which they were already crossing the limits, hemce cancelation. Since it won't be explicit in your fic Rotten Meat, do you mind answering about the daughter's SA and from what I gathered Will is the aggressor, right? Curious to know how it started and how this happens, if it stopped or what made it happen? Not asking for details on the act just the context around it.

I don’t mind, I’ll put it under this little read more safety bar haha. TW:

Will does not allow himself to perceive an aggression. He raised Mia in such a way that he will always remain the victim, and her, the temptress, the sacrifice. That’s textbook abuser.

He twists reality so that he feels obligated to express his affection for her in such a way, otherwise “she will leave, she will look for it elsewhere and get hurt, she will distance herself from him”.

He encouraged and reinforced the oedipus stage of her development and lingered on it instead of offering healthy boundaries. He placed her in many roles, including the role of spouse, but in a way that mixes spouse/child/mother, not in a way that has a clear distinction and switch from each.

He has DiD in this fic so he switches for the act, and switches back after awhile to compartmentalize the shock and trauma.

It technically started early on with a lack of boundaries regarding the physical body. Then around six with secondhand assault of hearing and witnesses Will with other people. Then at thirteen with subtleties and things that could be passable as harmless intimacy and grew into wandering hands, bodies pressed into one another in ways that shouldn’t be. She didn’t see it as anything other than affection.

And because of having seen Will dating, she grew a fear of abandonment, planted into her head by an older friend who told her she would be “replaced by a woman who could meet all of his needs”. She also told Mia that “those disgusting boys will never care about you like your dad does”. Things that began like little leafs and turned into full blown ivy in the depths of her mind and heart.

At sixteen was the first time it became something she couldn’t turn away from. It latched itself onto her in a way that a line crossed that erased all trsces of any lingering limitations.

It was fine, she’d say. I liked it, she’d say. He’s all mine now, she’d say. Ignoring the strange burn in her womb, the way it felt like someone had opened a drawer inside her body and left it messy. He cried, drank, went away, locked himself in his room for days. “Stay away from me, how could you do this to me, look what you made of me?”. Then he’d come back, ask her if she’s okay, she’d say yes. At first it was messy like this, a cycle. Then it just became…Normal. That’s just “how they were”. He was the poor victim, trying so hard to resist, but she was the Devil. “Why are you so wet, why are you like this, you’re evil”, he’d chant. To her it was just…Claiming. Keeping him. Love in a strange way. Desire. That’s what held her on that. She felt so desired, so wanted. He wants me so much he sacrifices his integrity for me.

I wanted it to be realistic. That’s how the story goes for countless girls.

Got curious at the post you were talking about Mia when she was 13, if you want to, can you tell us more about how was living with Will in that age?🍄

Bellow the milk lies dangers (they’re just triggering themes haha but you were warned!)

🥛

Living with Will when Mia was thirteen was different than before. She had spent three months in a summer camp, nearly obligated by law, otherwise Will could lose his guardianship (due to accusations of keeping her from socializing). There, she learned that her father wasn’t the beginning nor the end of the world. She met boys, she met girls. The universe began to open for little Mia, and she wanted to taste it. She was naturally drawn to the counselor, an older man who kept the camp in order. He stayed mostly in his cabin, but Mia liked him better than the rest of the kids. She made some friends, though. Learned how fun it was to whisper things to girls in the middle of the night, and that the darkness wasn’t only made of secondhand nightmares and silence. But she missed him. She missed the constant weight of him.

Everything changed that summer, she stopped being a child. Or he stopped treating her like one. Maybe because she grew out of her clothes, because her tongue was sharper and her body was different. She doesn’t know. Doesn’t matter. “You even smell different”, he told her the day she came back.

He kept asking, relentlessly, about everything she did, everything that happened. She told him, was used to doing so. Up until that point, that is. She told him about Ryan, the counselor. “Why? What about him made him so interesting?” he asked. She shrugged, thinking but not saying that she wished Ryan would’ve slept next to her, because he reminded her of Will.

He had to put her in school that year, just for two days of the week, in the beginning. He was furious, had been since that summer. He was sure it was a neighbor who’d done it. Called someone and had them snoop around in their life. Vanessa, the woman was. She was a social worker. Met Will and Mia on the park one time, then other times around the neighborhood. Would always try to struck up conversations. Looked at Mia with a concerned look on her face. Will was sure she was the one who got the hounds after them. “But why?” she asked, “because men do bad things to girls when they’re left alone with them.”

“Not you!” she shot back immediately and Will gave her a strange smile. Almost painful. “No, I love you”, he said.

Then, one afternoon, they were laying on the couch, both reading their books. She got bored, climbed on his lap, to get attention, to entertain herself with his face. Something harmless. Or so it seemed.

He didn’t react much so she started playing with his hair. She was distracted, absentmindedly moving to a beat inside her head, when he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her down. “Get off, you can’t do that kind of stuff, you’re not a child anymore, Mia!” he sounded angry. Annoyed even. She was hurt, and confused.

“What? Cause I’m heavy now?” she asked, naively. He just shoot her a look and went back to his book. There was no way in the world he was telling her she wasn’t welcomed in her favorite place anymore. It was so unlikely that she climbed back, hopeful and taking it as a joke. She jumped on his lap with force and he grabbed her by both arms, throwing her back beside him, and got up, exasperated. Leaving her there, discarded.

It all came back within seconds like a wave, drowning her, you will be replaced by a woman, the echoes of a voice she’d heard awhile back came rushing in.

That night, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, naked, and noticed how her waist curved in ways it didn’t before, all the way down her back, where it lifted her bottom. How her breasts seemed more perched and she suddenly felt ashamed. She tried to scrub the feeling off of her body, but it followed her into her bed, where she felt this nauseating sensation creeping up from her inner thighs all the way to her head, like wavy unease. She wasn’t a fresh daisy anymore, his little, pure girl. She felt disgusted at herself.

The next day she decided she wasn’t going to wear shorts or skirts or dresses anymore, so she put on a big t-shirt and sweatpants.

“It’s fourty degrees, are you sick or something?” he asked, spreading butter on the toast. She didn’t answer. Didn’t know if he was still angry.

She melted away for hours in those clothes, until he found her draped on the ground.

“Why are you wearing these? Take it off. Now.” he sounded annoyed again. She really wasn’t his little angel anymore, was she? It seemed like she was starting to become a burden.

She changed, but stayed in her room all day. He called her eventually, she yelled a “yeah”, but refused to go downstairs. At some point he got yet again annoyed and went up.

“What’s the matter with you? Been calling you for ages.”

She stood by her bed, in a red, flowery dress, and covered her legs with the blanket when she hesrd him coming. He noticed.

“Are you sick?” he went to her, pressing his hand to her forehead. “What’s wrong with you? You cold?”

She hadn’t learned how to lie to him at at point yet, so she didn’t say anything. She could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“Well, get out of this room, come downstairs.”

She remembers walking to the living room like it was her funeral. Slowly, almost trembling. She sat on the couch, far away from him, almost falling out of it. Hands on both knees. Stiff, awkward.

“What’s up with you?” he asked, touching her knee, and she instinctively flinched. That caught his eye. “Mia”, a warning.

She didn’t even know what to say. Couldn’t even comprehend what it all meant at the time. Not really. She just felt awful. Just felt. Couldn’t explain, or articulate. So her body did it for her and decided to cry.

He got worried all of the sudden, what’s wrong, what’s wrong, baby?

“I’m not a baby. You said I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Mia.”

She tried to run, humiliated by her tears, but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back down. “What’s this about?”

She had no clue. How could she? She was just a kid. Then suddenly she wasn’t anymore. She remembers the belittling feeling of saying “you don’t me to sit on your lap anymore” through sobs.

She could hear the unspoken “oh my god…” he was letting out through his sigh. “That’s not what I…” he decided to stop talking, just scooped her up unto him. What a burden she was, how difficult she was. Because of her, who she was, the body parts she was born with, people were bothering him, investigating, snooping. Because of that, he was being suspected of hurting her. Because of who she was, her body, he was afraid to touch her. What a terrible thing she was in his life.

“I’m sorry I’m not a boy,” she told him as the tears threatened to pour again. He looked at her, confused, asked her what she was talking about.

That had been such a strange couple of days. That entire interaction, the whole thing. It left a permanent stain on her psyche. Like a haunted place in her mind.

He began to date more. She was seeing just how she’d be replaced.

“Replaced? Are you insane?” he asked when she confronted him.

“Because I’m not enough.”

“Enough? Mia. What the hell are you talking about? No one’s replacing anyone.”

“Then why are you seeing them? Why are you leaving? Why can’t you stay here like you used to?”

“So now I’m supposed to be stuck here with you all the time? I don’t deserve to have some fun, to relax? After raising you for thirteen years, I don’t get to have a life?”

That cut like paper. Thin and painful. But she didn’t even cry. That cut so deep it went straight through her body, down to her soul. She just glared at him before walking out. “Leave, then.”

He didn’t. She stayed in her room, he stayed in his. Late into the night he came into hers, laid on her bed, reeking of alcohol, held her tight, and she could feel the tears shaking from his body. “I didn’t mean what I said, I made you, I wanted you, a girl, my girl, I wanted a girl, and I chose you, I chose you to be mine, and I don’t want anything else I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m sick and I don’t know how to protect you from my sickness”, like a river he just kept pouring words into her ear.

She turned around and wiped his tears, “you should go out, and have a life”, she tried. That made him worse, “no no nono, I don’t want to, all I want is to be here with you I don’t need anything else I want to be here but baby it’s so hard I’m so afraid all the time I’m so afraid that my sickness is going to destroy everything and I don’t want to…I don’t”, he trailed off. She held him, he held her back and something in his groggy hands and mind wandered a little too far. Affection. Desire. She thought. So she leaned into it. Afraid of being left, she leaned into it.

Living with Will at thirteen was a tangle of thorns.

Help the last post you made about Mia when she was 13...😭 I felt my heart ache for her...Left me wonder if from there she'd start to "replace" him with someone else? As if a sort of revenge or a way to be seen again by him? Like every time she finds out he's dating someone, she would do kind of the same?🤔 and would do this only when she was 13, or everytime and every age? hope this made sense!

-🐛

Drink the milk to get to the dark side. TW.

🥛

It started at thirteen, went all the way at sixteen, never stopped until a little after Will met Hannibal. Hannibal was able to save Mia, by showing Will was making love was supposed to feel like.

And yes, Mia started dating to provoke Will. Some random boys. It got worse when she got involved with a teacher. Much older, bad guy, trouble. Got her into things she had a hard time getting over. Then got punished for that for a long time.