#i do not wish to be misconstrued on this

[lgbtlunaverse]

"Nie Mingjue would still have died young even if Jin Guangyao hadn't killed him" Not as in "So it's fine to kill him because people who won't live for much longer have obviously already forfeit their lives" (what) But as in "If you don't get that Nie Mingjue has had an inevitable young and violent death hanging over him since he was a young teenager and has embraced it you can't fully understand his character"

#mdzs #nie mingjue #i do not wish to be misconstrued on this #because the first interpretation might genuinely be my least favorite nmj take #because it has so much baggage in regards to the actual real life murder of disabled people. most often by their caretakers!! #and the reaction to it from public the media and the justice system is overwhelmingly 'oh well that wasn't a life worth living anyway' #'plus they were SO hard to take care of rlly if you think about it the murderer is the victim here that must've been so hard for them' #and these characters aren't real. nmj isn't actually dead he was never alive. but i really hope that take is no one's actual view on life #but from a purely story-perspective i also hate the 'everything would've been fine if not for jiggy' takes #STOP MAKING THE BLORBO UNINTERESTING BY OUTSOURCING ALL HIS ISSUES!! THOSE ARE /HIS/ LET HIM KEEP THEM

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

#today's gone Badly and i'm upset but instead of venting abt it i'm gonna channel that energy into doing a bit of tag rambling abt Boothill #well. less abt Him and more abt uh. self-analyzing my anxiety surrounding contributing to fandoms. he's just today's catalyst #like. i know it's mostly a me thing. i'm hypersensitive to criticism and very conflict avoidant + socially anxious + perfectionistic etc. #so I'm the one that keeps myself from posting more stuff out of fear of being criticized or called-out for what i've made #bc inevitably Someone's gonna see it and think its OOC or a problematic take or they'll misread my intent. etc etc what have you #but like. that's inevitable. there's no way to communicate every single thing with all of the nuance required to avoid misunderstandings #and other times it's not a misunderstanding it's just a difference of opinions and that's Fine!! there's no accounting for personal taste #there's no accounting for several things actually. taste‚ bias‚ lore-knowledge‚ differing levels of chronic-online-ness‚ etc #so this isn't me complaining abt the state of fandom culture (although i do think. sometimes. ppl take shit a bit too seriously) #but anyways all of this is mostly just anxiety-fueled. it's not like i very often actually even receive negative feedback or anything #if anything ppl tend to tell me that i'm overthinking it and killing my own fun and worried that my stuff is more OOC than it is #which like. yeah. Yeah u right :) but that's just the way that i am! always losing the idgaf war i suppose #anyways what's Boothill got to do w this ur wondering. well. i've been thinking abt the quickly emerging concept that he's illiterate. #and it just. has me feeling a lot of ways. and watching ppl disagree over it has me feeling some Bad ways. bc it's def a loaded topic! #if you'll pardon the pun there. and i don't rlly have anything new to add other than that i'm conflicted abt it. #like yeah i saw the leaks days ago. of him mentioning 'not hitting the books' much as a child when we ask him why he sends voice messages #or voice Transcriptions ig. ykwim. and like. *braces for impact* ...i liked it? like. it doesn't feel right to call it endearing #i'm not trying to infantilize him. ok that's not the right word either but ugh. you know? what i mean?? who am i kidding even i don't know #it's not quite right to say that it feels like Representation either. but it's something close i guess #as a southern person myself who didn't receive a 'complete' education due to factors that weren't to do with my intelligence #the concept of seeing him as a capable force to be reckoned with and respected who also happens to have not received much formal education #i like that. i do. but there's so many issues w it at the same time. like. as i said‚ being southern myself has me Wary of the way Hoyo is- #writing him. as well as of the way that the fandom is taking the bits of his lore and running away w them. and i'm Very aware of how ppl- #will see a southern character and be All Too Eager to agree that they're lacking intelligence based on our Redneck™ stereotype #sigh. and before we even go too far with this. it's not even confirmed that hes completely illiterate. which is a valid criticism i've seen #there's Multiple reasons that could make him prefer voice to text. but regardless. i'm just worried that ppl will misconstrue my intentions #like. example: that edit i made the other day of him saying 'no thanks i can't read'. wasn't me playing into the stereotype of- #'haha dumb country boy can't read!' it was. in my eyes. something he'd say as a joke to make light of a potential insecurity #like. i think there's far more depth to Boothill's character if ppl could look past the surface. and i dont wanna contribute to the problem #but sometimes ppl Will have stereotypical traits and i wish the same could apply to characters as long as it's done Thoughtfully.

[griancraft]

It’s kinda weird to me that just now you’re posting about Palestine after almost a month of the genocide happening. It feels performative. :/

Hey man I get being upset but I’ve been offline more often than not because I live in a severely emotionally abusive household + I am in the worst mental health crisis of my life, and it’s really bad like a good 60% of the time. Give me some leeway here, I’m reading the sources people send me and doing my own research when I have the time and energy. I know this is a like. Incredibly lackluster statement or whatever but like I said above I am not doing well at all. Hope you have a good day man, sorry if I disappointed you.

#ask to tag (?) #I’m just some guy on tumblr who posts minecraft stuff #obv it matters but what more can I do right now than reblog posts and wish good will #I can’t donate nor can I attend protests in the state of mind and physicallity I am currently in #Palestine obv has my support. do not misconstrue me here

[taohun]

and i mean obviously im not entirely serious about those tags and absolutely the mitski “fandom” gets so strange and weird about things but like i really do not care how white people feel about something. like your guilt is not my problem. 

#now do i think people often misconstrue MITSKI'S art and wishes YES do i care deeply about that YES

[dandyshucks]

every time i see someone complain abt guz.ma fanart not depicting him in certain ways I'm always shouting and jumping I'M OVER HERE !!!! I'M DRAWING WHAT YOU WANT !!!! LOOK OVER HERE IM SERVING IT UP HOT N READY WEEKLY !!!! but like... really quietly bc actually i dont want anyone seeing my art of him bc im scared of ppl sneering at me over the fact that its all s.elfship art 😔😔😔

#SOBBINGGGGG FOREVERRRR #SORRY THAT IM IN LOVE WITH HIM. AS IF ITS MY FAULT !!!! SMH SMH (/silly) #ppl complain abt artists drawing him skinny or with abs #and i just saw someone bemoaning that nobody draws him post-redemption arc #I'M RIGHT HEREEEE IM DRAWING HIM IM DOING ALL THE RIGHT THINGS LOOK OVER HERE !!! #BUT ALSO DONT LOOK BECAUSE IM SCARED DHFFHDJDKL #also i KNOWWW my interpretation of him is pretty far off of canon but like... growth will do that to a person idk SBDHDKL #also i hesitate to depict any aggression or violence from him for several reasons #so I'm just. hrrgrgrhh afraid bc i know my public works of him are pretty far outside of canon #and i dont want any high-n-mighty bozo waltzing in here to tell me I've got him all wrong #1) my publicly available interpretations of him are Not All that i have. i keep a lot to myself bc i dont want things getting misconstrued #2) i don't gotta explain anything actually DBDHDJSML #me when i make up a guy to be scared of and have to defend myself against LMAO #ANYWAYS... i wish i could feed the guz.ma fans but im too afeard 😔😔 #dandy.cmd

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

It continues to trip me up how much human brains are just weird organic computers

#thoughts #oni talks #oni vents #additionally wild that the easiest ways for me to explain brain stuff are generally in computer or video game terms despite the fact I’m #notoriously awful with computers (and to a lesser extent video games) although I won’t if my natural inclination would be different if I #didn’t have trauma related to computers/if maybe it’s the classic adhd interest based learning difference? unknown tbh #I still really wanna go to school to study people but academics is fucked as hell so making that work will be a personal hell for me #but also I have so many theories and data I can’t do anything super tangible with coz I’m not in an academic setting so even if i wanted to #talk about stuff and work on it no one would take me seriously w/o that academic background no matter how much effort I’d put in learning it #on my own for my entire life at this point it won’t matter if it’s not on some level acknowledged by an academic system I despise tbh #it’s one of those things that makes me miss my dad coz we used to commiserate together about these sorts of things tho he made it work far #better than I have been able to. i wish i could ask him science questions again. #anyway human brains are so fascinating but also I really wish I was better at explaining myself analysis of people I feel like I’m good #enough at this point to be like partway understood coz I’ve done so much practice on my own coz I tend to rehearse explanations ahead of tim #but its still often misunderstood or misconstrued & it’s understandable a lot of the time coz like most other people aren’t spending a ton #of their free time thinking about and researching how people work/analyzing those around them+themselves vs me whose been doing since like #I dont remember the exact time but I do remember being really young & making the conscious decision to study & analyze my family for example #so that I could be helpful & translate their words to each other better + ppl often don’t see things about themselves that others do #also forever thinking about the human brain/experience in relation to the sims & video game commands lmao #currently trying to explain save states in the human brain to ppl but no one knows wtf I’m talking about #& researching academic terms that are close to what I want doesn’t necessarily work if there’s no academic term for what I’m talking about #hence wanting to do the research myself coz sometimes it feels like there’s all this stuff that’s obvious to me but no one else?? from what #I’ve seen in recent studies they are only starting to scratch the surface of stuff I’ve already known sometimes? other stuff is older & it’s #VERY gratifying when it’s stuff I’ve known but not been listened to about & it actually gets the proper recognition #though getting ppl to actually listen/take what I say seriously is its own journey & I have to be careful myself bc I’m human so my own #understanding/data is constantly updating + I have storage issues so finding the data I have in my brain is its own struggle sometimes #every version of me is interested in people & I think that’s neat even if other people don’t understand that concept #sometimes I feel like an alien/robot whose sole task is just to study & support humanity & it’s very weird tbh

[mundanememorize]

okay i will rant for like two seconds my once a month rant but i have recently realized fucking psychology or i guess like modern/pop psychology especially is destroyingggg art. so bad.

like as writer/artist for like the past 2-3 years i’ve found myself being like oh i need to be able to perfectly articulate how my stories deal with mental health and then i get in this awful loop bc i’m not writing anymore im dissecting.

and on the audience part too it’s also awful. i love metas and analysis etc etc but it’s all turned into this strange phenomenon of like “proving a theory” and so many of these metas (im just going to use that for the catchall) focus on the same dissection.

just lately when it comes to art and discussion old or new academic or twitter rants i feel like i constantly see people asking “what is wrong with the artist to make them make this” instead of understanding the emotion or subject present in the piece and dissecting that as it relates to you. it has ti be clinical and hard fact and true to the creators intent.

i hate this approach so much and the way i see it effects my writing has made me crazy so i’m glad i’ve realized. i do not like to see abstract concepts put into a box im sure no one else does but being in like online art culture it’s so so so bad for that because no one can discuss anything online it has to be a debate. and then you’re debating art instead of analyzing and sharing experience.

this is all very vague and that’s kind of the point. what i’m talking about applies to anyone from like brain rotted edge lord anime girl artists to characters in mainstream/high production projects. there is no separation of art from artist on the basis of how does it make you feel it seems like it’s everyone’s wondering what’s going on in the artists head and trying to use their art as tools to figure it out. i think that has terrified me in creating and it’s made me feel like i have to make it present in my art in the first place so i have “nothing to hide” but why does an audience need to be in your psyche???

this is not me saying exploring mental health and illness and symptoms of it in art is a bad thing, it is exactly the opposite. it’s when it turns into everyone fighting about how xyz proves their headcanon correct and then no one else is allowed to interpret a character another way when the point of most art from the people i know and/or admire want the exact opposite. every character should be a mirror to a large variety of people and experiences. the same shade of green should excite one person and disgust the next. i am just so tired and appalled and over the like compartmentalization of art to enjoy it as a monolith go fuck yourself!!!!!

and i kind of got off topic with the subject of psychology present in art but looking at art with a psychological lense can be fun but that’s the lens you should already be using in the sense of connecting emotionally to pieces. i’m seeing yourself in the art right in front of you. most people (especially people who don’t create art often) go into art immediately trying to “figure it out” which i understand but how to you make it clear to everyone that they already understand, they just need to listen to what is there in front of them.

to look at art through a clinical lens is the death of art is maybe a more accurate way of talking about it. to look at art and try to dissect it, not for yourself, but to say “i know exactly what the artist was thinking” you’ll never be right. it’s fun to joke about in the basis of relation to the art but then that’s just you relating. that’s your experience and perception. you will never know the artists intent.

this is more specific and a little more silly but i feel like that^ over laps with people freaking out about character and “good/bad” representation. saying gay characters can only act this way. that characters with plurality can only be portrayed like this. that characters with a disability or neurodivergence or this or that can only say this list of things or else you’ve made a “harmful character”. of course there is harmful stereotyping but i would hope everyone able to publish and produce stuff knows what to do and not to do. i know that’s not realistic but i hope majority of writers don’t need a strict do and does list to write all of their stories!

i really mean this more in the way of making a strict view of how exactly to portray a certain character especially when it comes to marginalized identity and psychology then makes a new box that pisses people off. people did not like autistic people being portrayed as emotionless genius robots who parade as people and that’s normal because that is fucked up. but why now does every autistic character need to be almost a joke about being “too weird”. why also does a character need to be confirmed by the creator to be anything. it’s definitely nice but to me if a character portrays your experience without being confirmed anything, why not just enjoy the character in the way you perceive them. i’m also just a really big fan of ambiguity and surrealism in art so that’s how i prefer to take it but i don’t understand why every single aspect of art needs to be labeled for enjoyment. it’s killing it.

i kind of got off track with this but i hope it’s clear how i feel like psychology effects art in the ways of when you confine symptoms to one box and you put people into those boxes and those people love art and make art. then the perception of art will be affected and it’s hurting it badly. it is okay to be uncertain but i think psychology is hurting people and art badly in tandem

#there’s also the issue of black and white thibking and absolutes thta have taken over the modern day #from both political extremism to your internal morality but that’s like. this will turn into an actual ten paper essay #and to be transparent on this. this id a lot of stuff i’ve only recently realized and started to unpack because i’ve stopped being obsessed #with these labels. so i am just kind of speaking from my heart and my perception of what was making me kind of crazy #psychology like is helpful to people and that shouldn’t be taken away from them #but i also just kind of wish it could quietly exist and be helpful. #because like ten years ago it was a fucking like social death sentence to be in therapy #and now it’s all you can hear or see be misconstrued on the internet but it’s hurting people more because they get out in a box #<again two very extremist points. we can never seem to find a middle ground #and it’s not bad for people to know terms or symtpms of what they have or think they have because then they can find tools to help #but the way people dissect individuals and lump them together in ‘avoidant type’ style boxes #when people have an array of experience and trauma and hardship under their belt that’s so unique to them it’s so harmful to lump them #in with so many others with that same individual experience. why do we have to mush people together to understand people #why can’t we just meet a person and let them tell us how they are and feel and came to be #sorry this is like my one million thoughts from the past couple months so i’m like. literal essay it has to stop now because i want a #peach red bull

[ranvwoop]

I talk a lot of crit abt pokmon here but uhh. average pokemon fan is ambivalent about pikachu, pikachus Pikachu who has been obsessed with pikachu for 16 years is an outlier and pi should not be counted. this context is important I think

#vwoop.noises #Ahem. That my secondary name is Pikachu and I use pi pronouns and in trying to exit my room you come into contact with at least four pikach #I Do A Lot Of Thinking About Pikachu. #Ok I drop this subject now I just worry about being misconstrued #I have sold my soul 2 nintendo. I can just wish things were better #I should finish the dlc. #I LIKE PKMON AS A WHOLE NOT JUST THEM. FTR. I have other favourites bc you know the hipsters r gonna call me a fake fan #But this is neither here nor there. #That's not long but I've only been sentient for a short amount of time Ok. Pkachu was my friend in kindergarten #I hope I am not just an em cee y t blog to you but also someone deeply unwell about nintendo game #Not even wish things were better. Laugh at things that are blatantly absurd

[skinnedkate]

c***unitytwt, and specifically a**d fans, are getting on my NERVES. i made a pretty flippant joke that theyre never explicit abt him being autistic despite how everyone talks abt him, and you would think i waterboarded three puppies w their reactions.

#rant #i guess #for context i was qrting a post abt how charlie and **** have the same amt of lines abt their autism #which started bcuz c***twt was arguing charlie wasnt “actually autistic” so he’d lose a poll LMAO #but anyway #my point was that the show never ACTUALLY referred to **** as autistic #(excluding the time j*ff called him autistic as an insult or whatev before **** was actually written as such) #but ppl r all mad bcuz its heavily implied and not all autistic ppl need to say theyre autistic outloud #and like…. yeah true! <- thinks charlie is autistic #but they still never say it explicitly😭? im still right #he can be written as autistic without it ever being explicitly stated. these arent conflicting statements #i never said he WASNT autistic but ppl r still calling me a weirdo and media illiterate💀 #sry for pointing out a fact!! i’ll never do it again lmao #its doubly annoying since i censored any words to do w that godforesaken show cuz i KNEW this was gonna happen #im not even engaging bcuz everyone is either deliberately misconstruing my point; GENUINELY NOT GETTING WHAT I WAS SAYING; or still in hs #btw hate the fact i cant put commas in tags. annoyingn asf #also someone said **** is better rep bcuz he likes tv and charlie is bad rep bcuz he drinks paint #which is SOOOOOOO fucking funny i wish i could shit like that without a trace of irony #how r these ppl real

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

“You should be acknowledging this!” “Um, you should all be reblogging this actually” “think about this thing!” “Be aware of this new awful thing happening half way across the globe that you personally have no hope of every impacting in any way whatsoever, but I will word this post like it’s your fault personally!” No, actually. None of these things are my responsibility personally. Yes they’re shitty, yes they shouldn’t be happening, no I’m not going to be guilt tripped into reblogging your inane rant about it all just so someone else can get guilt tripped too.

#look I don’t remember the proper phrase for it #but there’s a word to describe this #this social pressure we put on people to Acknowledge The Awful Thing #whilst knowing the only thing that will happen is an increase in anxiety #and no hope of progress #because we are just people #and people want to help each other! which is great! #but if this pressure and anxiety keeps up #everyone will be too emotionally exhausted to do anything #because they wasted it all on your acknowledge THIS! bs tumblr rant #and before anyone misconstrues what I’m saying #obviously I wish I could help with all these awful things #and if there were a practical and realistic way for me to help #I would #but there isn’t #so I can’t #and therein lies the problem

[trendfag]

holy shit i need to get my shit together

#i wish this would last lmao #like i wish i would do something about it #i should have got a train ticket for thursday and used friday to have a meeting w someone at uchicago while im up there #see if i cant get some help with the process of transferring / find out if its even technically a transfer at this point idk how this works #hm oh well i just will have to go back up to chicago sometime #or do a zoom meeting….sorry but i havent been in one since april and if you dont count therapy then in 2 years but im so sick of zoom meetin #i did friday because my friends have school this week #my friend im staying with when i asked how long she wants me said ‘friday to monday is fine’ ‘unless you want longer’ #‘i just know during school i cant do much’ and so i took that to mean please just come friday to monday because i have school #because hes from the south and wouldnt just say that #last time i visited also for a concert it was during finals week #and they were going to the concert too but anyway so i asked how long they wanted me for and she was like since its finals week im gonna be #studying and stuff so i wont really be able to entertain you and i was like yeah no problem!! ill just come up the day before and leave day #after! and he was like thank you so much for thinking about me and finals and everything i really appreciate it #but then the day i left she was like….i wish i hadnt asked you not to stay longer #tag edit i misconstrued the thank you she gave me #so ok i asked how long do you want me he said well theres finals so probably not very long which like if youre down to just watch me study #and tske a final then thats not a problem but its up to you. and then i didnt reply for a bit probably half mental illness half being like #i want to stay longer but i dont want to like distract her and intrude and stuff so then she texyed me again asking if id decided how long i #was going to stay and i was like yeah i’ll leave day after concert so i dont distract you from studying or anything and then i think he #thought my feelings wwre hurt bc he was like im sorry i wish you could stay longer but i really appreciate you giving me my space but know #that literally any other week id be fine with you staying however long you want its just this week is a lot with the concert and finals #and i was like yeah of course i understand completely!! and idk if i realized then that he might have thought she hurt my feelings but i was #like yeah i get it! anyway. whatever.

[remuslovebot]

sirius black being the cockiest mf ever trying to impress his crush and she is not impressed in the slightest to the point he starts getting really shy around her because he no longer knows how to act if his usual bravado doesn't work

but turns out just being his dorky, vulnerable, and still (softer) flirty self works like a charm!!

Sirius would totally the most cocky and immature tactics to get you to go out with him. it would be romantic for sure. im picturing the dance number that heath ledger sings in “10 things i hate about you.”

I hope you enjoy!

𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐒.𝐁

summery: after Sirius gives up on his boastful ways of flirting, you turn the other cheek and notice the popular marauder is sweet and dorky on the inside.

warnings: not proof read. one inappropriate joke, but that’s all 🫶🏻

pairing: sirius black x reader

Sirius Black was a charmer. That was for certain. Rumors spread like the plague of his roughish ways. You were not a fan of him, which was unfortunate for you because he was a fan of you. Constantly. Every chance he would get, he would flirt you up in the hallway.

“Hey y/n, what are you doing later?” He would ask you. You replied with, “McGonagall’s transfiguration essay.”

Sirius just smirked and returned with his cocky banter, “That’s a shame, I wish you’d do me instead.” He grinned, James and Peter behind him laughing.

It wasn’t genuine, or at least that’s how you felt. You rolled your eyes and replied with, “You wish, Black. In your dreams.”

You walked away with out seeing or hearing Sirius’ response. It frustrated you to no end that he would joke that way. You wanted to save him the trouble. He was obnoxious and too cocky for your own liking.

You missed when he was sweet and genuine. Not the popular boy that has become a staple at Hogwarts.

Sirius on the other hand, genuinely did want you. But no other tactic had gotten him a date. The rumors were misconstrued and he put on a cocky front. But in reality he was just as shy and dorky as he used to be.

One night after a hogsmeade trip, you were reading in the Gryffindor common room. It was a nice quiet night by the fire place. But all of a sudden, Sirius showed up, sat in an arm chair near you and started playing with wizarding cards.

“Could you keep that down?” You asked him, looking up from your book.

You expected a witty and cocky calculated response, but instead Sirius looked flushed. He ran a hand through this shiny hair and nodded, a little shy.

He gave up on impressing you and being so boastful. What did he have to lose? “Yeah sure, sorry.” He replied.

Sirius’ response continued to surprise you. Where were his annoyingly witty comments and jokes? Why wasn’t he flirting?

“Are you okay?” You asked, now a little confused.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he replied, lookin over at you. In his mind you looked so beautiful sitting by the fire. “Urm—actually I wanted to apologize. For making you so upset. I just think you’re really pretty an all. But I’m taking the hint and I’ll stop.”

He sounded so sweet about it and vulnerable. This was the Sirius you liked. The genuine one.

You smiled softly, “Thank you for the apology Sirius. I appreciate it. But you really think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He nodded, continuing to be sincere in his response. “Yeah, could never take my eyes off you love?” He said. It was straightforward and flirty but absolutely adorable and dorky.

You blushed. Why couldn’t be t he like this all the time?

“I like you like this.” You said, with a small smile. Sirius flushed.

“Y-you-u do?” He asked, a little surprised. This was the first time you’d shown him affection.

“Yeah. I mean when you aren’t being so boastful and cocky around me. I like the genuine you, Sirius.” You said.

With that, he sat up and walked over to the couch. He sat next you and both were facing each other.

“Sooo, I guess what you’re saying is???” He teased. You lightly pushed him and laughed.

“I’m saying if you tried to ask me out in a less boastful way. I would say yes.” You explained, blushing.

Sirius felt like he’d won the jackpot. “Really?! Uh I mean oh that’s cool.” He said, earning another giggle out of you.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” He asked, sincerely.

You nodded, “Yes Sirius, I will.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black headcanon #dating sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #all the young dudes #peter pettigrew #anything for our moony #marauders x you #marauders quotes #wolfstar #marauders x reader #sirius black fluff

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere platonic obey me brothers with younger sister reader please?

Youngest Sibling Reader | Yandere Obey Me!

Before Lilith’s passing and the war that sent them to the devildom they’d been prepared to raise a new member to their family. Through much deliberation you do join them in their new life in the devildom but seeing as you are the youngest there’s a lot more pressure on you:

Whether you appear when they are in the devildom or within the celestial realm you are considered the youngest 

Especially with your generally smaller size 

Satan and Belphegor are considered older in every which way

“As the youngest of us (Y/n), you have to trust that we know more than you.”

“But–!”

“Which means you need to rely on us, so trust your older brothers.”

They can’t have you do anything on your own

What should stop you from also meeting some human or other being and trying to run off with them

They often don’t listen to you at all

Specifically Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mammon

Like you’ll say, “Hey I can do my own laundry!”

And they’ll be like “No you can’t. Your tiny hands and tiny brain can’t comprehend such a difficult task.”

It’s just too easy for them to write you off 

Your cute little face and your tiny little nose and the little pitched voice that sounds like a toddler

They always come up with some logic that just doesn’t allow you to grow in any way

And then you have the others that can’t understand you because they just don’t hear you

You’ll say,”I read in an article about our monarchy being extremely barbaric despite the…”

But all they hear is “Goo Ga Ga. Can you pwick me up bwig brother?”

“Awww of course I’ll pick you up! An then we can dress you up in something to match me!”

“Hey what’re you even talking about?! Stop it!”

Or 

“Wow I wish I had a camera! These years go by far too fast!”

“Ugh Levi! Are you even listening?!”

Sometimes they’ll hear you…but don’t expect them to actually respond to you in any coherent way

Asmodeous and Leviathan are just automatically going to somehow misconstrue anything you say

They think you’re a baby after all

The only ones that seem to actually understand you is Belphegor and Satan

Both of which who seem to have gone through what you did or actually notice that you’re as independent as you are

“I kept trying to ask him but he just said I wouldn’t understand any of it. Even though I was the one to bring it up.”

“He’s an idiot. You can’t expect him to pick up on your genius. Which is why I tell you to only talk with me.”

“Yeah, but it’s folly to have only one person’s opinion.”

“Says scientists but I for one love only talking with you.”

That doesn’t mean they don’t tend to baby you too

“Can you blame me, you're a cute little calf. Pampering you comes naturally.”

“But can’t you see how exhausting it is. I’m old enough to want to have intelligent conversation.”

“I know you do…which is why I’m always going to be willing to listen.”

It’s a pain

But thanks to a nosy ruler that keeps the worst brother at this busy

There are so many chances to grow and maybe get away from these overbearing brothers of yours

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yanderes #platonic yandere obey me #yandere obey me #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere leviathan #yandere satan #yandere belphegor #yandere beelzebub #yandere asmodeus

[neil-gaiman]

This will sound confrontational but its a genuine question, I promise. Why is it ‘embarrassing’ to wonder about the sex lives of these characters? GO is not a childrens book or show as far as i know, the characters are not underage, unable to consent, related, cheating, canonically asexual or any other thing that would make them having sex even remotely reprehensible or anything like that. They literally get called husbands every single day on this app and im sure you’re well aware people are very much writing about them having sex constantly so I’m just wondering. Is it just the word choice? If someone had asked when az and crowley ‘made tender consensual love’ instead, would there be less actual harrassment in their inbox right now? Or is it just very bad and wrong to discuss gay sex… ok maybe it is confrontational after all. oops

I think you might have misread or misconstrued what I wrote, when I said "I feel a bit embarrassed for the people sending them when they come through, but nothing more than that". My embarrassment is over what people think is appropriate to send as messages to the author, not over whatever they want to speculate about. They have the whole of Tumblr, not to mention AO3, to ponder, imagine and discuss anything they like about any and all things in the stories, including sex, gay and straight. But sending stuff like that to me is just inappropriate... it's like watching someone turn up to a school meeting drunk, or watching someone trying to tell dirty jokes to an audience that wishes they'd stop. I'm the wrong audience, and it makes me embarrassed on their behalf.

Every now and again, in the Asks, someone will write apologizing for something they sent in years before, which they've now realized was inappropriate -- or which they always knew was inappropriate and they've grown enough as people to apologize. And enough of those messages have come in over the years that I'm never upset at receiving inappropriate asks. Just embarrassed for the people sending them, and hoping they don't beat themselves up too badly when they figure out, as many of them seem to eventually, that perhaps that wasn't a very sensible thing to do.

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 3. the statement

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You finally visit the station to give Joel your statement about the incident and he has concerns about you returning to work.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, slow burn, possessive thoughts, mutual pining

WC: 5.5K

Series Masterlist

Joel's business card was taped to your fridge, a glaring beacon every time you strolled by for a glass of water or to throw something in the trash. Every single time, your eyes drifted to it, the numbers practically memorized by now.

You knew he gave you the card for professional reasons. But he did make a point of mentioning his cell phone was also listed. What did that mean? What did you want it to mean?

It's been two days. Two whole days since the attempted robbery, since that man put his hands on you, since the last time you saw Joel. You were supposed to work the dinner shift tonight. The first night back at work since the incident. Joel never came in at night, you've only ever seen him at lunch, and you felt fear. Fear of going back there, to the literal scene of the crime, and knowing this time Joel wouldn't appear from around the corner to protect you.

You took a shaky breath in and looked at the time. It was almost nine in the morning. You had been up for hours already, the anxiety of going back to work waking you far earlier than you wished. Walking back in the kitchen, you looked at that card again while you chewed on your lower lip. He did say to call him when you were ready to give your statement. You picked up your phone and stared at the black screen, your thumb hovering over it, poised to wake it up.

Which number do you call? His office, or his cell?

If you called his cell, that would mean something else, right? That's far more personal. He might misconstrue things if you called his cell, and things could get complicated. You couldn't let him get wrapped up in the drama of your personal life. He didn't deserve that. He had a daughter, he has a life. You couldn't let things get personal with him, although the lines already felt like they were blurring.

Before you lost your nerve, you punched in the number to his office and hit the green button. You paced around your kitchen, listening to ring after deafening ring until finally the line picked up. Voicemail. Shit.

Without thinking, you hung up before his outgoing message finished. You didn't anticipate leaving a message, you didn't have anything rehearsed.

You walked by the fridge again, your phone clutched in your hand, your eyes glancing at the little white card taped there. With a sigh, you punched in the second number - his cell.

While you waited for him to pick up, you nervously chewed on your nail, your heart thudding in your chest wildly. You thought his voicemail was going to pickup again, but at the last moment, the ring was cut off and you heard rustling on the other end before his deep voice carried through the speaker.

"Miller."

Your breath caught in your throat. His voice sounded stern. Stoic. You forgot to breathe. You heard him pull the phone away from his ear, checking to see if the call dropped before repeating himself a little louder into the receiver. Finally, you forced yourself to speak.

"Joel?"

Your voice sounded so small, so weak compared to his. You heard him take a breath in and say your name softly before asking you to hold on. There was more rustling on the other end, voices fading into the background before you heard the soft click of a door and then silence.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice no longer hardened.

"Yes," you lied, fidgeting nervously with the cuff of your sweatshirt. There was a long pause before he spoke again.

"Hadn't seen you at the diner. I asked, no one's heard from you and I -" he stopped talking and you realized you had stopped breathing, waiting for him to continue. "I was worried. Almost came by, but I didn't wanna upset you."

You nodded as though he could see you.

"Sorry. I just needed some time to get through it," you explained.

"You coulda called me, y'know," he said quietly. "We coulda talked about it, or if you want, I got the number of a shrink we use here to help people out when stuff like this happens. She's real good."

"That's okay," you said, declining the offer.

It was silent for another minute before you remembered the reason for your call.

"You wanted me to give a statement?"

Joel paused, realizing now that you called not for a friend, but for the sheriff.

"Right," he said, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "When are you free?"

"I work tonight, can I come by before then?"

"Yeah, 'course. I'm here all day."

"Okay. Maybe an hour?" you asked, glancing at the clock.

"Sure."

"Okay."

There was another long silence again as you waited for him to end the call. When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything, you spoke again.

"I'll see you in a bit, then."

He sighed, a deep, heavy sound filtering through the phone, then repeated your words back. See you in a bit.

You hung up, taking a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Then you caught sight of your reflection in the toaster and you cringed. You desperately needed a shower.

You hadn't been to the police station before, but everyone in town knew where it was. It was a two story building near the center of town, with three big flagpoles and a handful of police cars parked out front. It wasn't very far from your apartment, but it was in the opposite direction of the diner. You realized as you walked up to the front door that Joel most likely walked past your apartment twice a day as he made his way back and forth for lunch. The thought of him nearby so often brought you a strange amount of comfort.

When you approached the older woman at the front desk to explain your reason for being there, she seemed to already know as she picked up the phone and hit a button, waiting for Joel to pick up on the other end. Her eyes stared a little too long at your neck as she told Joel you were there, and you self consciously fiddled with your purse strap over your shoulder. You had tried to cover up the bruises with a little bit of ancient makeup you found in a toiletry bag, but apparently you didn't do a very good job.

Moments later, you heard a door unlock and Joel step out, his eyes instantly stopping on you standing in the middle of the lobby and you felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was wearing a dark blue suit you didn't remember seeing before, with a black tie and a white dress shirt. And you could have been wrong, but it looked like he had an air of nervousness about him, as well. His hair looked tousled and his voice held a small tremor when he said your name and motioned for you to follow him back.

As you walked through the station, you glanced around at the familiarity of the bullpen: rickety old desks shoved up against each other with piles of folders, empty mugs of coffee and ancient looking computers adorning them. Men hunched over eating or talking on the phone, barely sparing you a glance. You followed obediently behind Joel as he led you towards the back, towards the interrogation rooms, and you froze, a small noise slipping past your lips. He heard it and turned around.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"No," you said quickly, but he could tell you were lying. He waited, looking at you expectantly. When you still didn't say anything, he looked around, trying to figure out the problem.

"Did you prefer to talk in my office?" he finally asked, jutting his chin towards the front where there was a small, messy area with windows around the whole room so he could look out at the bullpen. You glanced at it and nodded.

His office was what you expected: a few outdated photos of him and Sarah sat on the lip of his desk, along with file folders, half of which were open with a black ballpoint pen left on top, as though he were in the middle of writing out a thought when you arrived. His computer didn't even look like it was turned on. The chair he sat in groaned under his weight, the cracked leather squeaking against his belt. You sat in the chair opposite him: an old, stained thing that you could feel had all of its padding flattened underneath the blue fabric.

"Can I get you anythin'? Coffee? Water?" he asked you, his eyes glued to his desk as he tried to tidy up his mess.

"No," you said softly, watching as he pulled out a legal pad and flipped to a fresh page, then clicking his pen and scrawling your name and date at the top with a few other notes, most likely a case file number or another identifying code.

"Alright, ever done one of these before?" he asked routinely, still writing on the pad.

"Yes."

The pen stopped.

Slowly, he brought his gaze up to meet yours, but you just waited for him to continue.

He wanted to ask. You could see it, the question burning behind his eyes, and maybe he was about to before he remembered his place, and he swallowed it down.

"Okay," he said, setting his pen down and lacing his fingers together on the desk. "Shouldn't take too long. I saw most of it. We got a few statements from other customers, too. Just need to know how it started, what you were doin', what he said. That kind of thing."

You nodded and steeled yourself with a deep breath before speaking.

"You had just walked away to use the restroom," you began, and he picked up the pen and started writing. "I had just filled your coffee. I wasn't paying attention, I was distracted that day." You glanced up at him, but he kept his eyes down on the paper. "I heard someone clear their throat. He must -"

"Marcus?"

"Yes, Marcus must have sat down when I wasn't paying attention. I apologized and grabbed another mug for him. I already had the coffee, so I walked over and poured it -"

"Did he ask for coffee?" Joel interrupted, and you stopped to think.

"No, I just poured it. Most customers ask for coffee so I guess I assumed."

"Okay, keep goin'," Joel said, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled on the pad.

"I was looking down at the mug, telling him the specials and then-" you stopped, your words getting trapped in your throat. His writing paused and he looked up at you.

"It's alright," he soothed. "Take your time."

You took in a shaky breath and forced yourself to continue.

"He slid the gun across the counter, and I panicked."

"Did he say anythin'?"

"Um, I don't think so?" you replied, swallowing the lump in your throat as you dropped your eyes to your lap.

"Okay," he said softly. You looked up at him again and met his warm gaze, his eyes soft and kind, and you found the courage to continue.

"I asked him what he wanted," you said, your voice beginning to shake, but you pushed through. "He said he wanted the money in the register and gave me a bag."

"Mhmm," Joel said, nodding along as he began writing again.

"I was scared. M-my fingers - my hands were shaking. I was trying to open the drawer, but I couldn't and he was getting impatient," you said, tears welling up in your eyes now. Joel was still focused on writing but you could see the muscle in his jaw twitch as you spoke.

"Then what?" he said, his voice turning colder, and you shivered involuntarily.

"He told me to hurry the fuck up or something like that," you said, sniffling a little. "I told him I was new and I was trying-"

Joel muttered something under his breath and you stopped. You looked at him, waiting for him to repeat himself, but he just sighed.

"Sorry, go on," he said, rubbing his thumb across his forehead.

"That's when you saw him," you said. He nodded, his pen hovering over the page.

"I don't wanna make you relive it," he said, his eyes cast down. "But can you briefly explain what he did?"

"You told him to put the gun down," you continued, trying to be quick at this point. "He grabbed me by the neck and pulled me across the counter. He held me against his chest and had his gun against my head."

"Okay, thank you," Joel said firmly, effectively telling you to stop, but you kept talking.

"I couldn't breathe," you whispered, and he dropped the pen, squeezing his eyes shut, his nostrils flaring. "He was gripping my throat so tight, it made me dizzy. I was so scared, I thought-"

"That's enough!" Joel said loudly, making you jump.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, a tear trickling down your cheek. He shook his head, his eyes still closed.

"Don't apologize," he said, but his voice was tense.

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at you. At first, his gaze traveled to the tear on your cheek and guilt flashed across his face before looking into your eyes again. You swallowed and it felt like the muscles in your throat seized up. Looking at the anguish in his face, you wondered what you did wrong.

"Is that all?" you asked, breaking the silence. He just looked at you, his eyes traveling down your face and stopping on your bruised neck. His fingers twitched.

"Wish you woulda called me," he said, his voice soft again. "Shouldn't've been alone."

"I'm fine," you told him, but neither of you believed it. "I will be fine," you conceded when he gave you a look.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, then raked his fingers through his already tousled curls and you watched as each one flopped back into place.

"Tonight your first day back?"

"Yes."

He nodded and ticked his jaw to the side, his eyes moving up and down your face.

"How're you feelin' 'bout that?"

You shrugged, trying to come off nonchalant, but he saw right through it. He tilted his head to the side and gave you a look that said cut the bullshit.

"Not great. But I'll manage," you finally admitted. "Gotta move past it sometime, right?"

"You want me to pop in later?" he asked, but you quickly shook your head.

"Thank you, but no. What are the chances it'll happen twice?" you said with a dry laugh. He allowed himself a small smile for your benefit then looked down. You picked up your phone to check the time, then stood.

"I should go, I have to run some errands before work," you said, reaching down to pick up your purse as he got up from his desk, his hands on his hips.

"If you wanna talk-"

"Call you?" you finished for him, raising your eyebrows with a smirk. He smiled and nodded, then led you to the front lobby.

"Now I got your number, so you can't go disappearin' again," he reminded you.

"I didn't disappear, I had a couple days off from work," you said, rolling your eyes but you couldn't stop your lips from turning up into a smile.

"You left me with Betty, y'know."

"What's so wrong with Betty?" you asked, turning around when you reached the front door. The older woman at the front desk glanced up at you both.

"Nothin', and don't you dare go sayin' otherwise or she'll have my hide," he said, and you giggled.

"Well, you'll have me tomorrow," you assured him, and he felt a rush of blood between his legs. Get your mind outta the gutter, Miller.

"Lookin' forward to it," he murmured, and you waved goodbye, pushing the door open and leaving him standing there, his mind swirling.

He turned around once he could no longer see you walking down the sidewalk, a stupid grin on his face which quickly disappeared when he saw Helen staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, turning to look at her computer.

When he got back to his office, Joel mentally scolded himself for his behavior. What was he thinking? He couldn't believe he let his feelings for you get in the way of a case. But when you began to describe what happened from your perspective, something inside him snapped. He felt the rage bubbling below the surface with your every word and shaky breath. It was a miracle he didn't run in the back and strangle Marcus with his bare hands.

But he felt even worse for raising his voice at you. You didn't deserve that. All you were trying to do was what was asked of you, and he practically yelled at you.

You looked confused, but how could he explain himself? He couldn't tell you to stop talking because hearing how scared you were was doing something to him. Something that he knew was not part of the job. Something he thought before today he could keep separate.

He ran his rough hands over his beard and he exhaled slowly, letting his mind drift back to that day.

When he saw Marcus standing in front of you at the register, he never felt fear like that before. His job didn't usually put him in much danger. It was a quiet town, but every town had their bad apples. Over the years, he had a couple run-ins that might be considered close calls, but the other day at the diner took the cake.

Everyone knew Marcus was relatively harmless. He had never hurt anyone before when driven to do crazy things by his addiction. But Joel wasn't ready to take that chance. Not with you.

He had told Marcus he would have killed him, and he meant every word.

He told you over and over that he wanted you to call him if you wanted to talk about what happened, but now he wasn't sure he could. How could he, when his blood ran hot at just the mere memory of that gun pressed against your sweet, perfect face?

He was worried you would flee. That you would run back to Pennsylvania, back to your home where surely things like this never happened to you. You had been here but a couple weeks and someone already threatens your life? If it were him, he would probably consider leaving town.

When he didn't see you for the past two days, he thought that was exactly what you did. He laid awake at night, fighting the urge to sneak out while Sarah slept to see if your lights were on. He was so desperate to confirm you were still in town, he had actually paced outside of your apartment after lunch, coming dangerously close to ringing your bell, but he was too afraid. He was afraid if he rang the bell and you didn't answer, his heart would break. And he wasn't sure he could handle that. So he let you be, and prayed to whatever god was above that you were still around, because he realized far too quickly that he had no way of contacting you if you disappeared.

But now, he did. He stared down at his phone, at the number you called him from earlier that morning, and he saved it under your name. He considered briefly if he should put an emoji next to your name, but realized that would be ridiculous and just left it.

His thumb hovered over your contact, the little message symbol tempting him beyond belief. He wasn't much of a texter - he usually only texted Sarah and the occasional poker buddy - but he really wanted to send you a message. No, he shouldn't. It would come off too desperate. You just left, what else was there to say?

What a ridiculous question. There was mountains left to say, but he couldn't do it. Betty already tested the waters for him and you said no. But maybe that's changed. And if it hasn't, he would keep trying until it does. He was nothing if not persistent.

He sighed, looking out of the window of his office at the men typing away at their computers or talking on the phone. Then he remembered something. You said this wasn't the first time you gave a statement. You also seemed hesitant to follow him towards the interrogation rooms. Something happened to you, and he hoped one day you would trust him enough to tell him because he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and keep you safe. To prove to you that there was nothing to fear, that he would treat you right and take care of you. If only you'd let him, he would give you everything.

Even Sarah liked you. How could she not?

That night after you had pizza with them, she teased him in the car on the way home. She could see it within minutes, why couldn't you? He barely even put up a fight when Sarah brought up his obvious infatuation. What was the point? He was grateful to know that his daughter approved of him dating, he couldn't deny that. Not that he hasn't seen any women since his ex left, but it was always casual. Always secretive, until the flame burnt out and the excitement was gone and he was left all alone again.

It wasn't lost on him that women around town looked at him a certain way, but he never gave it much thought. None of them interested him. Not until you.

He thought about you, running your little errands and then getting ready for work. He looked at his shared calendar with Sarah: she had a sleepover tonight after soccer practice. Maybe he would swing by the diner. He could stay in the parking lot, just to make sure you were okay.

"I'm glad we didn't scare you off, darlin'," Tommy said after the dinner rush died down and he emerged from the kitchen, wiping sweat from his forehead and smelling like french fries.

You gave him a smile and waved him off.

"It would take a lot more than that to scare me off," you said with a laugh as you refilled the sugar caddies at the counter.

"Damn, I don't think I want to find out what that is," he said, grinning as Maria approached him with a kiss.

"Busy night," Maria told him, rubbing the palm of her hand over his back soothingly. You glanced back down at the sugar, ignoring the pang in your chest from watching their open affection for one another.

"Yeah, middle of the week, too. Must be the rain that drove everyone inside," he said, peering out the window at the sheets of rain that fell. His eyes paused on something outside and he squinted before you drew his attention back.

"I'm glad it was, it made the night go by fast," you replied, moving on from the sugar to the condiment bottles, wiping them down and refilling them as you went.

"Why don't you finish up and head out," he told you, nodding towards the door. You glanced up and agreed, regretting not bringing an umbrella but maybe if you timed it right, you could leave when there was a lull in the weather.

It was nearly ten by the time you walked out, the door locking behind you. The rain was still coming down, but you hoped the hoodie you brought with you would be enough to shield you as you hurried down the sidewalk.

It was dark out and the streets were quiet as you walked hunched over, your sneakers getting soaked from walking through the puddles. The rain was too loud and your hood covered your ears, so you didn't hear him when he approached you from behind, his own shoes splashing in the water as he jogged to catch up.

"Hey," he panted, and you yelped, jumping backwards as your heart raced in your chest.

"Jesus, Joel. You scared me!" you said with a frown, your hand resting against your heart.

"Sorry," he said with a smirk, then moved closer, just inches away from your own body. You could feel the warmth rolling off him and you could smell the shampoo from his hair, he was that close. You froze, not sure what was happening until you realized the rain was no longer pummeling your head. Glancing up, you noticed he held an umbrella over you.

"Oh," you breathed, then looked at him again. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he mumbled, his unwavering gaze burning a hole in you. Finally, you tore your eyes away and the two of you quickly walked the rest of the way to your apartment, his arm occasionally brushing up against your own, and you resisted the urge to flinch.

You fumbled nervously with your keys as he held the umbrella over you, sacrificing himself to the weather so you had enough room to maneuver the door open. You slipped inside and he moved the umbrella back over himself.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked, and you furrowed your brow, looking up at the sky.

"Do you want to come in and wait this out? Or I could drive you back -"

"Yes," he said, cutting you off and eagerly stepping forward. You held the door open as he collapsed the umbrella, giving it a few shakes and leaving it angled against the door before following you up the steps.

He shut the second door behind him, glancing around at your meager apartment as you flitted around turning on lights and closing the shades. You turned back to look at him, standing stock still in your doorway, unsure what to do with himself. You yanked your wet hoodie off over your head, your shirt riding up just a little bit and exposing your stomach for a moment, and Joel felt a stirring below his waist. He had to force himself to look away until you managed to fix your shirt, the desire coursing through his veins becoming too overwhelming.

"Let me get you a towel," you said, noticing how drenched his hair looked for the first time. He was grateful for the extra moment to collect himself as you slipped into the bathroom and grabbed two bath towels, drying your own hair as you handed him his. He thanked you and slid his shoes off while he dried his dark curls, then wiped his face and neck. You forced yourself to look away from the droplets of water trickling enticingly slow down his throat and underneath the collar of his nearly soaked T-shirt.

"Coffee?" you asked, and he chuckled at the familiar question.

"Sure," he said, taking a couple steps forward and leaning against the doorway of your little kitchen, watching as you scooped the grounds into the coffee maker next to your stove.

"How's that faucet treatin' you?"

"Good," you said with a nod, then pressed the brew button and turned to face him. "Are you a handyman on the side or something?"

"I guess I'm just a man of many talents," he said with a wink, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. To distract yourself, you turned and walked toward the window, peeking out through the curtains as the rain pummeled down on the street below.

"It's still really coming down out there," you said, turning back around. You gasped, not realizing he had followed you over and he was standing right behind you, looking out the window as well before his gaze fell to you. You looked at each other for a moment, both waiting for the other to do something, say something, anything to acknowledge the tension in the room.

"Were you following me?" you asked quietly, and he blinked.

"Following you? No," he said, shaking his head. But he shifted his gaze away guiltily. "I was comin' back from droppin' Sarah off at practice and happened to drive by the diner, so I stopped..."

"At ten o'clock at night?" you asked. He let a huff of laughter escape his lips.

"Might've hung out in the parking lot for a bit."

"Why?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek, still not able to meet your eye.

"You seemed shook up earlier. Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he finally said.

He spent his evening in the parking lot just to keep an eye on the place? What did that mean? You swallowed and asked another question.

"Doing some overtime, then?" you all but whispered. He took a deep breath in through his nose and finally looked at you.

"No."

His eyes flicked down to your lips and you thought you were going to pass out with how fast your blood was pumping through your veins.

The beep from the coffee pot startled you both out of your trance. You blinked and shifted around him, pulling two mugs down off the shelf. Somehow, you managed to pour the liquid without burning yourself, your shaky hands betraying you as you held his cup out to him.

"Do you mind if I go change?" you asked him, and he looked up at you over his mug, surprised.

"'Course not," he said, glancing down at your damp work uniform. His eyes trailed after you as you disappeared into your bedroom and shut the door. He knew he shouldn't be there. He knew he was overwhelming you, but he just couldn't stay away. He knew if he was at home, all alone, he would just be laying on the couch half listening to some talk show and wondering what you were doing. And he really liked being able to know instead of just wonder.

You came back out of your bedroom a minute later dressed in soft pajama pants and a sleep shirt. It wasn't anything special, but he felt himself react anyway. It was intimate, being able to see what you slept in, and it excited him.

"I'm sorry, I don't have anything..." you trailed off, pointing to his now half dry T-shirt, and he smirked. He couldn't stop what he said next.

"I'm glad you don't have any men's clothes lyin' around."

I'm glad you're not dating anyone. I'm glad you aren't sleeping with anyone. Because I want it to be me.

You cleared your throat nervously and looked around, your eyes falling on the TV.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something? 'Til the rain stops?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. He sat down slowly at the end of the couch, watching as you fished around the coffee table for the remote and turned it on, then tucked your legs underneath you as you sat down on the other end of the couch. It wasn't a big piece of furniture, but you still managed to put as much space as possible between you two. You flicked around the channels, pausing when you found a familiar movie and you turned to check with him, only to find he had been looking at you the whole time.

"Is this okay?"

"Sure," he said, not even sparing a glance at the TV. You felt your face flush and you bit your lip, trying to breathe through your nerves as you turned back to watch some actors you couldn't quite name.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything stronger," you said, nodding to his coffee. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"That's okay, I'm not either," he said, settling back into the couch as he finally tore his gaze away from you to look at the screen.

It was a relief to hear him say that. You had spent so much time around men who drank that it turned you off from the whole idea most of the time. You opened your mouth to tell him that, but quickly snapped it shut. That would inevitably cause him to ask more questions, and you weren't ready to open that door.

The rain kept up most of the night, but you weren't sure when it stopped because even though you had drank most of your coffee, you fell asleep. You had intended on resting your head on the back of the couch and closing your eyes for just a moment, but the stress from the whole day combined with not sleeping well the night before caught up with you.

Of course, Joel noticed. He watched with a small smile as your body slowly relaxed into the couch, then your lips parted just a little bit and your breathing deepened. He probably should have woken you up, helped you to bed, then left. But he was a selfish man, and instead watched you sleep until your body began to slump closer to him. His breath caught in his throat and his body stiffened as you unconsciously leaned against him, your soft cheek coming to rest against his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to slow his racing heart.

Fuck, you were just too pretty and sweet, and he couldn't help himself. He was just a man. He was selfish. He was weak. And he didn't care.

Slowly, he inched his way down until he was lying flat on the couch, your body sliding down with him. Your head was pressed against his shoulder, your leg draped over his own and he felt your warm exhale through the thin fabric of his shirt. He swore he would only stay like that for a little while but it was too intoxicating. Before he knew it, his body was quickly lulled to sleep, with his nose buried in your hair and his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring @honeyedmiller @pedropascalsbbg @southernbe @pedrosfanny @gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts @missladym1981 @spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85 @maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie

#joel miller x female reader #tlou hbo #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #the last of us game #sheriff!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #possessive joel #protective joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller #STR fic

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Can children consent? 

According to my notifications, someone was very interested in hearing my opinion on that - leaving that question under a lot of my posts, regardless of whether they mentioned consent or had any possible connection to that question whatsoever. 

Is it possible that someone, for some personal reason, just really wants to discuss the topic “children and consent” with me (and is perhaps being a bit clumsy about it but has good intentions)? 

Yeah, I guess so, but: some other commentators pointed out that these questions seemed random and unrelated to my content, and were met with “So you think children can consent?”… and if you weren’t suspicious before, you should definitely be at this point.

Sadly, there are some people who will ask loaded questions to lgbt+ creators in hopes of getting an answer that they can twist into something nefarious. “Can Children consent?” is a loaded question because even a completely innocent and harmless answer could be misconstrued as “proof” that lgbt+ people are pedophiles who are trying to groom kids… if you look for proof, and are willing to twist or purposefully misunderstanding someone’s words, you’ll find proof. 

Take this post for example, I didn’t even answer the question. The reason for that is that, well, I just explained how my answer would be misconstrued anyway. Plus, the answer is actually super obvious and nothing you can have one opinion or the other about (Obviously kids can’t consent to sex, they’re not mentally and emotionally developed enough to give informed consent to sexual acts) - and if you really really want to, you could interpret even that in bad faith. “He’s dodging the question!” or “He’s instantly jumping to sex! Maybe the question was just about a hug” or “Okay but why would you defend yourself if you were innocent” or… I don’t even know. It’s tiring to think about all the ways people can paint you as evil to justify their hatred of you. 

And that’s also the point of me even talking about this in the first place: not just a „don’t fall for the bait” but a “it’s okay to be tired”. Having to be on the lookout for bait is tiring. Having to consider possible bad intentions is tiring. Knowing that falling for bait could end in you get harassed or doxxed or threatened… yeah, that is tiring. 

Having to worry about your safety is tiring. I wish I could end this on a more positive note - but sometimes the most comforting thing we can do without lying is to admit that some things suck. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

#I’ll openly admit that one of the reasons I don’t post a lot currently is the overwhelming number of ter/fs on this site #but there are also sweeter reasons (I’m in a happy and beautiful qpr now - which has distracted me in a positive way!) #lgbt #lgbt+