#ellie's isolated women

[chaotic-theatrical-weaver]

In honor of my completion of DWTC annotations, I present to you my resurfaced thoughts on how the Proctors' attachment styles create their dynamic because it's become my Default Thought (TM) again and I will never in fact get over this.

So there's Elizabeth and she's fearful-avoidant, and there's John and he's anxiously-attached. (Note that it is a documented phenomenon to have the anxiously-attached subconsciously seek avoidant partners who aren't quite that available.) They both experience some level of anxiety about the relationship, but he personalizes her avoidant tendencies and believes they're about him specifically. They're not--she's just afraid he'll realize she's more broken and less lovable than he thinks.* This personalization of her avoidant tendencies, combined with their mutual inability to discuss their anxieties (on her end, obviously out of the aforementioned avoidance, and on his end, out of gender roles where he, as a man, cannot openly express his anxious attachment), ultimately leads to their downfall. Both are willing to burn their candles at both ends for each other regardless of personal cost, but neither is able to communicate and his tolerance for the frustration and distress of it all turns out to be lower.**

*Would this be an Ellie post if I didn't discuss how their disorders play into this? Of course not, so I am now going to discuss how their disorders play into this! I've mentioned before the idea of John's splitting in relation to Elizabeth as his designated "favorite person" and that he swings from idealization to disappointment when their communication fails. What I have not mentioned before is that both approaches make her feel even more unworthy. "Why does he think of me as so wonderful? He's going to realize soon that I'm not as lovable as he thinks," then, "So he's finally realized I'm not as lovable as he thinks. I knew he would, but why did it have to be just when I thought I was safe?" See also the chorus of "all my daughters" by dodie. It fits so perfectly. (The flipside of this is of course that when he turns his splitting on himself following his affair, he expects her to be thinking of him the same way, even though she's not--she's hurt, but not to the point of viewing him as solely bad. "I never thought you anything but a good man, John, only bewildered somewhat," anyone?) On the other end, I've mentioned before what the idea of reading Elizabeth as on the spectrum implies for her character: alexithymia makes cognitive empathy harder, so she knows something is wrong but can't quite put words to it that easily. She's also more prone to the ignition of rejection sensitive dysphoria, so...let's just say for a third time that her husband's splitting doesn't help, as well as that the time period's inability to understand her symptoms as anything other than deliberate resistance is also a factor. (Oh, and by the way, this absolutely includes her own inability to understand her symptoms as anything other than deliberate resistance! She feels inherently broken and yet finds herself seemingly unfixable.) I've said before that perhaps her low self-esteem comes from this misunderstanding and the resulting mistreatment, which gave her the fearful-avoidant attachment that she carries with her into her marriage.

**This is not necessarily a bad thing--the bad thing is what it led him to. I would argue that Elizabeth's ability to tolerate that much is a bad thing because she's put up with so much that she cannot believe she is worth asking for more.

#arthur miller #the crucible #classic lit #classic literature #ellie's lit rambles #ellie's isolated women #ellie talks psych

[dev1lm4n]

all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women. 

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be. 

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this. 

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter. 

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving. 

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan. 

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely. 

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou fic #tlou #the last of us

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 ���𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ 𝟏/𝟐 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬), 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐭, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟 𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐚), 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞. 𝐎𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 

𝐀𝐍_𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜. 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 :(.

✰ 𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙓 (𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚) (𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙢.𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤)

♪ ♫ 𝙋𝙀𝘿𝙍𝙊 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 (𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩)

「 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐲: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 」 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

(Each chapter can be read alone)

The first morning of heat you feel in the year is calm. The ending of spring in 2024 in Jackson was getting very obvious. It’s 9:00 am, and the street is quiet, but you can hear the sound of the cooking eggs on the stove being made. 

A cup of ginger and lemon tea rests beside the sink, and the smoke melts with the one that erupts from the eggs. 

As you wait a little for the food to be ready, you look out the window at a cute couple of birds peppering each other on a tree branch. The brown and beige little birds shower in love while they both share some piece of food you can’t identify. 

They looked like a solid couple, unlike you and Joel. 

You get used to many things very fast. So living in Jackson for two weeks and a half show you that they lived like an ordinary town. With regular jobs, food, and social rules, within what fits. Soon you realized living in Jackson was the closest to what the world was before the infection. And that people never perceived you as Joel’s partner. 

But you and Joel had never put a name to your relationship, which burdened you after you started to see many women felt attracted to Joel. The worst part is that your way of feeling jealousy was isolating and getting depressed. You used to think like that when Tess and Joel were (kind of) together. But now it came with the pressure of him or you formalizing the relationship. 

And things were… complicated. The man and Ellie had been weird with you, distant and cold. The first days you thought it was for the change, but now it was the same. Joel was joining the patrols and spent the afternoon in the bar with Tommy. While Ellie was starting to go to school, she was locked in her bedroom when she returned. 

Meanwhile, you didn’t know what to do. First, the house had things to clean; then you claimed your own room. You shared the master bedroom with Joel, but the house's smallest room was filled with books, candles, and plants. 

Back into the present, the creak on the wood floor brought you back to reality. Joel entered the kitchen in his daily clothes: boots, a button-up shirt, and dark jeans.

“Hey…” you greet him with a smile. He reciprocates and walks to lean and leave a kiss on your temple. “Good morning, bunny.”

“I made some breakfast….” you explain quietly. He nods, giving you a brief smile. “Smells great, thanks.”

“I was thinking. Maybe we could go and have fun in the bar later.” Joel is about to say yes. But soon he remembered you couldn’t enter a bar. Well, you can, but you can’t drink. You’re pregnant, and he hadn’t told you yet. So after watching you asleep beside him, he thought about it every night. 

“I can’t. Tommy needs me to fix one of the stable fences. It’s going to take us a lot.” He wasn’t lying, but sure, he was exaggerating. You sigh quietly, placing the eggs, bacon, and a slice of toast on two plates—one for him and one for Ellie. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay…” he knew you were sad about it. But he couldn’t find a way to tell you yet. He wanted to be ready and prepared. But he had to hurry since no one knew how many months you were into the pregnancy. 

Ellie entered the room, also ready to go, which disappointed you because you would be alone so early. 

“What about you, Ellie? We could watch a movie or bake something together..” the girl looked at you with wide eyes. Since the day of the hospital, she can’t look you straight in the eye, or she would spill the truth. 

“I-I have an upcoming presentation from geography. I wanted to finish it early” both feel terrible to you. Both want a little familiar moment, but it would be worst. 

“Next weekend, dear,” Joel says, avoiding your upset look. Then, they sit at the table, and Ellie notices you stay on your feet. 

“You’re not gonna eat?” Then, after briefly looking at the food, you shake your head. “I used to love eggs, boiled or scrambled. But suddenly, they give me nausea.”

Joel and Ellie look at each other. Eating in silence. You lived from strawberries every morning since the seeds you and Joel planted outside were highly fertile. Chopped strawberries and milk with oats were fine. Until they’re done, and you had to see them go. You didn’t want to exaggerate but couldn’t help but cry a little as you washed the dishes. 

It was weird because now you had a home, a “family,” but you felt so alone. Similar thoughts ran through your head while you broom the porch. 

“Hey! There you are….” you are startled by a feminine voice. It’s Maria coming from the street. She’s carrying his baby boy from two months old. You smile at her and leave the broom on the door frame. 

“Hi! And hello, you too” the baby is barely awake, but you pretend to greet him too. Maria smiles, and with your help, you invite her inside the house. 

“I’m surprised. You have done a lot to the house. Looks different” she's very kind to you. Maria never failed to admit she liked you more than Joel and Ellie. But she was getting used to them too. As for the moment, she was okay with having you around. The baby liked you, and you weren't afraid to share your love for babies. 

"But what can I do for you on a Thursday morning?" You said as she smiled, sitting in the living room as you carried the baby. 

"Well, I was talking with Tommy. And we both agreed that you could join our council in the future. But for now, we think you could work as a teacher. We have a minimal amount of paramedics, and besides helping in our clinic, you could teach the youth" instantly, you smile. Maria made your day with that simple sentence. 

“YES!.. yeah, I’d love that,” she smiles kindly, liking your reaction very much. 

After over an hour, she takes you to the small school. And begins showing you how it works. Then you understand that you’ll start in two days, making you simultaneously nervous and excited.

Making your way out of the school, you freeze, looking at the bar entrance. It was 5:00 pm, and Joel was chuckling with the town midwife, Freya. You had met her the first days after returning to Jackson. She was that kind of fake person that showered you with kindness, but it was apparent how hypocritical she was. And she seemed to like Joel very much, always smiling and saying hello when she spotted you and him walking from Tommy’s house. 

Freya was slightly older than you, probably late twenties or early thirties, and she bragged with the excuse of her husband being a contractor just like Joel used to be. Also, she never hesitated to ignore you or barely knowledge your presence. 

Little did she know, you hated trouble. So you ignored her too, slipping away from Joel when she came, only to return some minutes later and remind him you wanted to leave. Joel would put his arm around your shoulder and say goodbye to Freya.

However, this time was different because Joel was supposed to be with Tommy fixing the fence, not at the bar's entrance, giggling with that woman. Seeing her so desperate to make him do something else boils your blood. And it terrifies you what could be Joel’s reaction. 

You wanted to trust. But you didn't have many options when he had been so strange lately, and Ellie too. Maybe Ellie knew something, so she was also avoiding you. But you didn’t have the heart to pry about with her. She was just a kid and didn’t need to be involved in “adult” stuff. 

“Again, with that imprudent woman? Gosh…” you jumped, looking at your new friend, Rosalie. She was another teacher, and she helped you since day one. She was a year younger than you and was a lovely woman. Honest and humble, with a loyal boyfriend and aunt living three houses away from yours with Joel and Ellie. 

“Jesus! Rosalie. You scared me.” She giggled, offering you a cup of tea, which you accepted kindly. “What? C’mon y/n. If I saw Rae spending too much time with her, I would give him a cathedra or a warning.”

“He’s not that kind of man, but….” you go quiet, looking at Joel and the woman as they keep talking and laughing occasionally. “He’s been acting so weird. Even Ellie is, and I don’t find any other reason but….”

“Him cheating? I thought older men wanted to fuck young girls. Every day I get them less.” she knew you were not in the mood to laugh, so she sighed, hugging you slightly. 

“He loves you, y/n. I’ve seen you two. He’s a man of word, I can tell. But Freya is good but has a bad reputation regarding couples and relationships.” Freya caused a divorce four years ago in Jackson. It was a big scandal, but her friends said she was on a breakdown for her husband's death. Still, she was a maneater and didn’t like many women, including you.

“But don’t jump to make conclusions yet. See if there’s any other hint.” Rosalie was right. She was good, and she almost lost Rae to the infection some months ago, making her stronger and brave.

“You’re better at this. I don’t have any social skills.” You say, causing her to giggle. But the truth is that you felt like a fish out of water in Jackson. Ellie was going to school and making friends, and Joel had Tommy. But you, you were alone, even left alone by them. 

So Rosalie was your anchor and even Maria was your anchor sometime. 

“I felt like you were when I arrived with Rae here. We were eighteen, and we had escaped from Phoenix QZ. He joined the electricians; always been good with wires. But I was alone for the first months until I joined the school and made time teaching babies.” You sip at the tea, and the warm flavor of cherry and berries tastes amazing. “So don’t be sad. It’s hard to get used to the change. Especially after all the things you went through, y/n.”

“Thanks, Rosalie. I appreciate it so much.” She nods with a wink, hugging you tightly as you focus on Joel and Freya again. You meet his eyes, and instantly you avoid him. Hiding your face on Rosalie, who noticed the action.

“It’s going to be okay. He must have a good reason, and Ellie too.” You nod again, eyes on the clear sky of Wyoming spring was your favorite season, but summer was getting better. 

You like to wear wide jeans and thin-strap tops. Eat ice cream and be outside after sunset. 

“I hope so, Rosalie. I really do….” you don’t notice, but Joel is looking at you yet, feeling guilty from seeing your sad pouting face. 

__

Ellie knew you wanted to ask her something after dinner. She could feel your gaze but stayed with her head down the whole meal. And Joel wished to act like everything was fine, but he was notoriously awkward. 

“So, Did you like the soup?” you asked with a little smile at the man and the girl. The mushroom and onion soup was delicious, with some bread Rosalie helped you to bake hours before. But they only nod quietly. 

Maybe I shouldn’t tell them about my new job, you think. So you stay quiet for the rest of dinner too. 

You are the first to finish, and Joel noticed how fast you were eating, which worsened his anxiety. He couldn’t wait long; he was scared to wait until your bump popped. 

“Leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll clean them in the morning…” without any other word, you leave them alone. 

Ellie sighs and stops eating, looking at Joel. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” Ellie whispers, and Joel doesn’t reply. “She’s getting upset, Joel.”

“I know…” your attitude minutes earlier clearly showed your disappointment. The look you had after seeing him and Freya talking was another sign. “She’s going to get tired. She’s going to get sad and….”

“I know,” Joel repeated, a little colder. But Ellie threw her fork into the table, surprising him.

“No, you don’t. Freya might be helping you to reveal the news to y/n. But she has clear intentions with you; everyone knows she does.” Joel was stunned by the girl's answer. He only stared at her thoughtfully. “You are taking too much time. It looks weird how much time you spend with that woman. If you’re going to change your mind about y/n, tell me. Because she’s like my mother, and I’m not willing to see her on the verge of another mental breakdown. And if you don’t hurry to tell her, I will”

Joel is shocked. He sighs, pressing his palms into his face. The stress would kill him, but it would be worst the next day.

__

In the morning, you pretended everything was fine, a little distant, but felt normal. Then, after Joel left and Ellie was gone, you arrived at the school.

Ellie was in the other little building with kids her age. You were teaching youths from 16 to 19 years old. 

After introducing yourself, you explain some basic things about first aid. Then, by giving them time to ask questions, you move on to put some practice on them, cleaning a wound. 

The guys are incredible, patient, and willing to learn. And by the time classes are over, it is 4:30 pm. Rosalie knocks on your door, finding you alone inside.

“How was your first day?” You tell her everything, and she hears excited. By 5:30 pm, you two are laughing and sharing stories. Rosalie loves to hear all the things Joel had done for you in the past, and you love to listen to her share about how she grew up with Rae since they were kids. 

Until Freya appears out of nowhere with her long red hair and face full of freckles

“Oh, hi, y/n. I heard today was your first-day teaching. Congratulations” you give her a little smile, feeling uncomfortable with her presence. “Just wanted to pass and say hi. I bet Joel is super excited for you. With the baby and Ellie in school?”

Baby? what the hell was that woman talking about?

“Baby?” Rosalie asks. And Freya smiles kindly, fake. 

“Well, y/n’s baby, of course. She’s pregnant.” you frown, heart pounding. 

“I’m not pregnant, Freya.” She shrugs, twirling a hair in her finger. 

“Oh gosh, Joel hadn’t told you? I’m so sorry, y/n.” But, of course, she doesn’t feel sorry. It’s her job to ruin couples.

“Joel told me. A little before you arrived, you and Ellie had an accident in a hospital. And the doctors told him you were pregnant. But he didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.” 

You go pale. Watching Rosalie in horror, she’s just as confused as you are. 

“He spent hours in my house last weekend. He wanted to surprise you,” Rosalie snaps at the red-haired girl. 

“Freya. Shut up,” your friend say. You stand up quietly and pass by the woman. 

“Excuse me…” you apologize and leave. 

From school to your house, you start feeling angry. Then, rage invades you because no matter if you are pregnant or not, Why he had to talk about your intimacy with Freya?

Why hadn’t he told you directly? A baby was a wish of yours but not a plan. 

People stare at you, looking at your red eye and raged face. 

When you open the door, Joel is seated at the table, drinking.  And the words spill out instantly.

“Is it true? That I’m fucking pregnant? Because I had to learn from fucking Freya,” Joel freezes. He wasn’t expecting to hear that after your arrival. After waiting and seeing he was silent, you push him to speak. “TELL ME!”

“…y/n. Please-“ but you don’t want to wait. You need answers. He stands up silently.

“Is it true?” You ask pleadingly. Joel sighs, slowly starting to nod.

“Yes…” he admits. And somehow, you don’t feel illusion or love. This is not how you wanted to get pregnant. 

“What the fuck, Joel?” you ask, outraged. The pain in your throat increases, aching. 

“Freya was helping me to understand how developed the pregnancy is. Also, she was helping me to know how to tell you.” Joel wasn’t naïve. He didn’t trust anyone. What changed?

“Don’t bullshit me, Joel. That’s a fucking pathetic excuse; everyone knows she’s a whore” you tried to avoid denigrating women, but Freya was mentally ill, screwing couples to feel better after her husband's death. 

“You know I’m not that kind of man. I just needed help.” Unfortunately, Ellie heard and came downstairs. Now she was at the kitchen entrance, looking at you two arguing.

“STOP LYING. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening …” maybe you were delirious cause you didn’t hesitate to crash his glass against the wall. You burst into tears, feeling so shameful. 

“I can’t be pregnant. I was bleeding for months. I don’t have any symptoms….” Joel tries to step closer, but you step backward, hurting him with the action.

“The fireflies. The hospital wristband indicated anemia and pregnancy.” you shake your head. And Ellie is afraid of what could happen eventually. She’s worried for you.

Once she steps further into the kitchen, you look at her. She knew her regretful look had given her away.

“You also knew. And-, So you two opt for distancing and leaving me alone?” you find it hard to understand their decision, but it makes you mad. “I know you two had a hard past. I know we went through shit. But in the end, I guess you two are still those cold shits without empathy.”

“No, love. Listen-we have to think clearly.” it’s useless. You feel hurt and betrayed. You want to scream and disappear at the same time.

“NO, STOP IT. You were being a dick with that whore. You lied to me and encouraged Ellie to do the same. I’m pregnant, and now I didn’t want to.” Both see you scream and cry with pain. But you haven’t finished. “Because I don’t know if I want you to be the father of this baby. I don’t know if I want to have a baby. And I don’t know if I want a family like this.”

Ellie and Joel's hearts broke when you ran upstairs and slammed your room door. 

When Joel turns to see Ellie, she’s sobbing. The man hurries to hug her, and she hides her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” His eyes are teary too.

Ellie fears ending up without a family, and Joel was significantly hurt by your insecurity about him being the father of your child. 

Joel understands that the three of you can’t keep living in pain after being in the ideal place to build a happy life. He needs you as much as you need him. Ellie needs the two of you. And that baby needed a sister and their parents. 

__

Knock knock.

“Go away, please,” you say, faltering a little. You have been sobbing for what feels like hours—curled in the little twin bed of the room you had for yourself. 

“Baby, please let me in.” Joel pleads on the other side of the door. You sigh, hiding under the blanket because you know he will enter. 

“Oh, y/n. I’m so sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

His hands start traveling from your back to your hip, comforting you. 

“But I’m not letting this thing of arguing and hurting each other screws our new lives.” he uncovers your face. And you can see how badly you hurt him. His face full of wrinkles and grays, those beautiful eyes you love, and his patchy beard you love. You don’t want to keep hurting him, either. 

“I was scared to tell you. After all the trauma you went through, the things we have seen. I wanted to find a decent way to tell you. But yeah, you’re right; Freya is a bitch. I knew she was flirting, but she’s the only midwife in town.” he tries to avoid excusing himself. You also notice it.

“Maybe talking with Maria was enough. First sorry of the night. I would never be unfaithful to you. I only have eyes for you and only you, my beautiful woman. I’m sorry for hurting you.” there’s a tiny smile trying to peek on your face. He can feel it. 

“Ellie wanted to tell you. She is worried for you.” your heart aches at the statement.

“And I don’t blame you for hesitating about forming a family with her and me. We’re not the most usual couple, and she’s not the most normal adopted child.” finally, you chuckle. He does it too, and both of you feel that spark again. 

“Half of the town is awkward about us being together.” Again, both of you laugh. And it’s true. Most people disliked the idea of you dating someone so much older like him. 

“I’m not a good person. I don’t deserve to be a father again. But…” suddenly, you feel the urge to contradict him. 

“No, Joel. Don’t say that, please. You’ve committed some errors, like me. But you deserve to be a father again. I’m so sorry for making you believe otherwise.” he accepts your hug desperately. Both of you feel at home again. “I love you so much, Joel. I don’t want to keep hurting each other or Ellie. I want us to be happy.”

“We could have some therapy. Tommy said someone helps with that” instantly, you nod. That sounded very good. “I’d really like that.”

“Okay. Then we’ll do it,” he states. And he’s able to examine your sweet face. “Looks, I should have given to you before….”

He places your mother’s necklace in your hands. You gasp in surprise. You knew he had it since Boston, but the action revealed that he had read your letter. “My mother’s necklace….”

It’s a thin gold chain with a little seashell pendant. She wore it since she was a girl, which was your only memory of her, besides a wrinkled family picture that now rested in the living room. 

He feels like he loses himself in the color of your eyes and eyelashes. Then, after securing the necklace around your neck, he wants to cup your red cheeks and your lips… he wants to kiss you so badly. 

“Promise me. We’ll try until we make it real this time.” Because it was fallacy after fallacy from the two years you had been together. Because of Tess, FEDRA, the QZ, taking Ellie, the infected, the fireflies. Now, What was stopping you two from being happy?

“I promise. For you, Ellie… and this one.” He exclaims, his hand caressing your stomach. You had forgotten about it. 

“I can’t believe I’m pregnant,” you admit to him. He sends you a sweet smile, still caressing your skin. There’s no visible or touchable bump yet; Joel still feels protective. 

“Me neither,” he shrugs, keeping the smile. “But it’s not like we had protection. And we are kind of a needy couple.” 

“Yeah. Good stamina for a silly old man.” you feel his arm gently pushing you as he rolls his eyes. When your arms end around his neck, he feels so comfortable. “This isn’t how I wanted a baby. But… I can tell you’ll be a good father to him. So it’s okay….” 

“And I can tell you’ll be the smartest and cutest mama.” He chuckles when you let a big Oww, Joel. And he’s more than pleased to accept another big hug. That’s when he can’t help but asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah…” it’s heated but adorable. And you’re so used to feeling his raspy beard against your cheeks and nose that you welcome the feeling. Joel is smiling through the kiss. He holds your hips swiftly and fights against the urge to invite his tongue to the kiss. But he’s surprised when you do it, and he replies. After that, the kiss gets messy, sloppy, and passionate. 

“I love you, bunny. So so much.” Joel accepts, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you too.”

“You can come in, Ellie,” Joel says, raising his voice. You smile at the girl opening the door, shyly making her way toward you. 

You offer your arms, and she runs to join the hug. Joel wraps the girl and you. 

“I'm sorry for yelling at you, Ellie,” you told the girl. She nods quietly, accepting you're apology. 

“We love you so much,” you add, and she can feel she could cry a river for it. Ellie would always admire how you weren’t afraid to show and give love. 

“I love you too,” she admits, and it surprised you and Joel. But the three of you stay together for some minutes, healing in the process. 

__

Three weeks later, things are so much better. Therapy was working very well for you and Joel. Joel pushed Freya entirely away and told her she wouldn’t be your midwife. Maria roasted Joel when you revealed you were pregnant because she didn’t like you dating an older man. But she accepted it by Tommy’s petition, and it was a nice grill day. 

Mornings were warm breakfasts, and afternoons were for playing and spending time with Ellie. And Fridays or Saturdays were mandatory dates for you and Joel. 

Walks to the stable, reserved dinner at midnight (courtesy of Tommy), steamy lovemaking when Ellie was at the movies, and garden together. 

And now, out of nowhere, your belly popped. It looked like you were around five months pregnant, but you and Joel estimated you probably were three months into the pregnancy. However, with the upcoming arrival of summer, you only wanted to use sundresses that showed your bump. 

“There’s my perfect bunny.” you feel Joel's big hands behind you, hugging you and weighing your belly. “Hi, love”

“Hello, handsome,” you greet him. Turning around to face him and planted a big kiss on his lips. “How was work today?”

“Thankfully, calmed. No infected, no rangers, everything is fine for now.” You nod while he plays with your hands. He looks happy, and it makes you happy. “Hey. We should go out. I want to give you something.”

“You know I don’t like surprises, Joel,” he smirks, grasping your hips seductively. You giggle when he starts to kiss your jaw and neck.

“I think you’ll like this surprise a lot.” rolling your eyes, you sigh. “Okay. Can I wear a sundress?”

“Oh, that would be perfect.” Then, sending him a sour look, you start to the stairs. “Perv.”

“What?-no. Come here…” he said playfully. But once he made it upstairs, you locked the closet door. “I’ll wait here, don’t worry, baby.”

“Good, just one thing. Orange or beige?” you ask. Joel wonders if you are making him choose between shoes or a dress, he prays it’s the dress. 

“Beige,” he answers. “I’ll take a shower.” 

“Okay,” you accept. And no later than five minutes, he’s ready, with a plain shirt, jeans, and boots. He has the sleeves rolled up how you like.

But he can swear he was about to tear after you exited the closet. First, you had the most simple but beautiful beige sundress with soft but attractive details on the torso. Then the thin and long fabric making your bump look so cute. 

“You look very…oh god” you’re beyond surprised after seeing Joel getting emotional. You ran to hug him, placing your chin on the top of his head as he sat on the bed's edge. “Sorry. It’s just you look so beautiful. I love you so much.” 

“Oh, Joel. You look gorgeous, and I love you so much, too.” he nods, leaning his ear on your bump. He wants to stay like that forever.

__

He takes you on a walk to the little park people built-in 2021 before he gets both of you some ice cream—vanilla for you, chocolate for him. 

“I’m still waiting for you to play us a song,” you say, rubbing your belly. Joel noticed you had started to include the baby every time. You also had cravings for dinner meals. 

“I'm still looking for a guitar” He was mesmerized by this new version of you. Pregnant, without significant worries, and always in pretty sundresses. “And don’t use our kid as your alibi.”

“I’m not. Right?” You ask to your belly, making Joel laugh and lean to kiss you. Without boots, you looked so tiny, and he loved to look bigger than you. 

At that moment, with the sun hitting your face and looking at your beautiful smile, he thinks it’s time. 

“Close your eyes, baby.” You obey happily. Then you feel him taking your hands and slipping something cold into them. When you open your eyes to look, you find a ring. 

“Joel…” you never planned to get married. You didn’t even think it was possible after the infection. 

“Let’s get married” But there you had Joel standing on one knee, proposing marriage. 

“Where did you get that?” You ask, covering your mouth. He shrugs. “There’s a department full of useless things. Maria told me that this kind of stuff is not the most looked-out. So she let me grab a ring. I know you like emeralds, but there was only this one or a Pearl. And…”

“Joel is perfect. Yes, yes, I’ll fucking marry you” nodding, he leans to hug you, knowing that therapy will continue, but this will change everything. Now it would be official. 

“Wait-, like. Right now?” He nods, standing up.

“Yeah, apparently, it’s very easy.” You are shocked. But you’re eager to find out and do it. 

“Okay… let’s go.” You giggle, taking his hand. 

Some turn to see you and Joel walking through the town. It was normal now. But if they knew you were on your way to get married. 

Tommy was leaving the offices when he looked at you and Joel and smiled, waving. 

“Hey. Where’s the church?” Joel asks, making Tommy laugh at the randomness. 

“Two blocks to the left from here. Why? You weren’t very religious back in the day, big brother” you laugh with Tommy, and your partner only rolls his eyes. 

“We’re getting married, Tommy.” His brows show he’s surprised but happy. And like the extrovert he could be, he started rambling.

“Oh my-. I’m taking Maria, our kid, and Ellie. Oh, and a camera. Get going. I will be there in a little.” You wave back at Tommy as he starts going to his home. Then you turn to face Joel.

“He’s so ridiculous.” You push him gently. Then you spot Freya on the street. She looks surprised because your belly wasn’t visible some days ago and now. Joel has his arm protectively around your shoulders. Freya must be pissed. 

But you ignore her, knowing that day was only about you and Joel. 

“We should make skewers to celebrate. And the cake I made… oh. You’re an asshole, that’s why you suggested me to bake something.” Busted, Joel got caught. Not that it mattered anymore, but he remembered how smart you were once again. 

“Yes. And it looks amazing. It’s been a while since we had strawberries.” You made a simple chocolate cake with strawberries, jam, and cream. Joel suggested the ingredients since he helped plant some strawberries in your little garden. 

“Can I invite Rosalie and Rae?” Joel nods. He liked the girl and her boyfriend. They were smart and kind. Joel liked it a lot you were making friends. He didn’t have a lot because he already had Tommy. But he knew you would befriend someone who he could trust.

“Sure. Ellie likes Rae a lot” because both were nerds about space stuff. Rae had comics and collected everything related to NASA. So Ellie was excited to meet him. She also liked Rosalie, but Rae had something to share with the girl. 

“I know. They’re a pair of nerds,” both of you giggle on the way to the church. 

And once you’re inches away from entering, nervousness succumbs to you.

“Hey. If you’re not ready, we can wait.” Joel comforts you. But you’re ready, and you’re sure of being his wife. The Miller last name suited you. 

“No, I’m sure. I want to do it now. It’s just… I never imagined this would happen to me. Since my family-, I-, I wanted a family. And now, I have Ellie, we’re getting married, and I’m pregnant. We even got that fucking house with the garden.” You realize it’s such a big coincidence. How life treated you like shit for so long, and now, it gave you all you wanted at once. 

“It’s what we deserve” actually is what you deserve, Joel thinks. Because he had a lie left, which he hoped would die with him. “Especially you, my love.”

“I don’t want to be arrogant, but fuck yeah. I deserve this,” you accept with a smile. Joel loves you so much that just by looking two seconds at you, he feels he has fallen deeper for you. 

“Let’s get married then….” you nod, entering the church.

__

Ellie looks perplexed at you and Joel. Tommy is talking with him and you. Maria is also in the conversation but behind you, placing a veil on your head. 

It must be old and rural. Because the piece was delicate and short and weirdly matched your simple dress. 

Again, Ellie was perplexed. She never thought about seeing this side of you and Joel. Both smiling so often, laughing, and being…happy. 

However, she was happy for you two. She wanted to meet the upcoming baby and already felt she was part of the family.

Tommy invited her to the stable when Maria corrected or scolded her for being mean.

Then you and Joel cooking with her, playing board games, and even folding laundry with him or you. 

“Ellie. It already started.” Maria whispers to her. The girl snaps out and can see Joel and you holding heads as a man says things she ignores. Only when you and Joel are officially proclaimed wife and husband does she takes very little to stand up to hug you. 

“I’m so fucking happy for your two.” You and Joel exchanged emotional looks, and he joined the hug for a brief moment. 

“Welcome to the family” Tommy congrats you and then his brother. You thank Maria for the veil, and she starts taking some pictures with an old camera. Ellie takes some. Maria takes others. It’s a happy moment. 

“Wait, hey. Kiss the bride, man,” Tommy suggests mocking his brother. But Joel doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer, taking your waist and cheek, passionately kissing you. 

You get lost in the moment, feeling all the love and devotion for each other. 

Maria looks outrageous at Joel, suddenly turning to Ellie.

“You’re staying with us tonight,” she states, making Ellie frown. 

“Why? she’s already pregnant.” The woman sends a lousy look to Ellie, and the girl shrugs, feigning innocence. 

“With Tommy and I, Ellie,” she clarifies again, turning to see you and Joel still kissing.

You feel warm and light in Joel's arms. As the kiss is over, he keeps smiling at you. And it’s lovely that you could get used to his smile after years of seeing him serious. 

“I love you” He feels the same. He’s getting used to watching you all beautiful and happy. 

“I'll try so hard to make you happy, Mrs. Miller.” 

Now he’s yours, and you’re his, forever. 

__

Woah, so it's over. When I wrote the first part of this, it wasn't supposed to turn into a series, but I'm glad it did. I LOVE YOU for supporting this series so much. I'm still writing extras, like the birth and ideas from requests. 

Taglist: @aonungs-tsahik @buckysmainhxe @amethystwonders11 @kyuupidwrites @bookfrog242 @acornacreacure @enbywan @ipadkidsworld @my-obsession-spn @happycupcakeenthusiast @thesameoldboo @spideysimpossiblegirl @tubble-wubble @flightlexsbird @randomstory56 @memento-mora @royalty-cashinout @ayamenimthiriel @eddies-bat-tattoos @kassieesworld @damnzelsoul @floffytofu @rintheemolion @coldheartedmar @woofgocows @d4rno @marantha @floralsightings @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast @holb32 @harperdoodle

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

[projectionistwrites]

EQUIFINALITY | SUMMER

PART THREE, sequel to GESTALT

Joel Miller x afab!reader (2.4k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: angst, grief, discussions about murder & death, age gap (not mentioned), allusions to smut DISCLAIMER: although this is a continuation of my series titled GESTALT, it could potentially be read as a standalone. however, i strongly suggest reading the first series to provide context for the reunion and background on the relationships between the characters. this part is genuinely upsetting, i’m sorry in advance. NOTES: this part takes place after the finale episode, when ellie and joel return to jackson. also, apparently i don't believe in happy endings! (or do i? stayed tuned for the final installment...)

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The edges of Joel’s vision were somewhat fuzzy, his head pleasantly buzzing with slight inebriation as he stood against the bar in the Tipsy Bison, trying his best to keep his head low and presence unnoticeable.

The party was in full swing, and the wooden tiling of the dining area had been cleared to open up a makeshift dance floor where the inhabitants of Jackson mingled and chatted. Maria jumped on any excuse to plan jovial gatherings for the town in order to boost morale and encourage strong bonds between neighbors in the small community.

In this case, the occasion happened to be Joel, himself—or rather, his and Ellie’s return. Although they had arrived back in town about three weeks prior, the weather had been tumultuous, and the spring demanded strenuous hours of labor on behalf of everyone who was capable. But now that the springtime was melting beneath the sweltering sun of summer, Maria figured it was time to welcome the two newcomers and provide a much-needed break to the overworked members of the community.

The man lifted his third glass to his lips once more, taking a long, slow sip of his liquor as his eyes skimmed the endless sea of somewhat unfamiliar faces—he spotted Ellie across the room, chatting with some kids her age, already coming out of her shell; there were younger children in another corner of the room, corralled by a few women who were idling gossiping with one another; the other adults spread out throughout the building, the air sticky with the stench of sweat and booze. Even within the mass congregation of townsfolk, all dressed in their nicest apocalyptic attire, Joel felt deeply, deeply isolated. The faces of strangers all blurred together, their voices blending into a dull hum in the background of his awareness.

“You’re sulking.”

Tommy's voice cut through the ambience, pulling Joel's attention to him. He turned his head to face his brother, scowling deeply at him as he took another swig of whiskey.

“M’not.”

He grumbled, and Tommy threw his head back with a bark of a laugh, lifting his beer bottle to his lips with the shake of his head.

“Jesus, you can be a real fuckin’ dumbass sometimes, you know that?”

Joel’s nostrils flared with frustration as Tommy smirked at him teasingly, one brow lifted in silent challenge. Joel’s eyes flickered to his left when Maria sidled up next to him, sitting in the stool across from her husband, cradling her swollen belly.

“He’s right, Joel.”

She nodded softly, eyes scanning over him carefully, and he clenched his jaw.

“What is this? Y’all drag me out here just to corner me and berate me?”

Tommy choked back a laugh, but his wife shot him a glare before turning back to the man beside her, who was looking sullen and wounded beneath his guise of anger. She sighed.

“You’ve been standing in the same spot all night, waiting for her to walk in. She’s not here, Joel. She left before you came by.”

Joel eyed Maria warily, his brows furrowing as she attempted to comfort him with the gentle tone of her voice. The man was slightly startled at her admittance—it wasn’t a secret that his sister-in-law wasn't his biggest fan, and it certainly wasn’t a secret that she wasn’t the biggest fan of his reemergence in your life.

He hadn’t seen you in weeks. Not since that day in the examination room, when you’d almost kissed him and he’d pushed you away—again. You hated him. Surely, you must.

Maria must’ve been able to read his mind—she reached out a careful hand, laying it gently on Joel’s forearm in an effort to save him from his self-deprecating spiral. She offered him a small smile.

“You should go find her.”

“You don’t want me to do that.”

Joel quipped flatly, dropping his gaze down to his boots. He heard Maria scoff incredulously, shaking her head slightly in disbelief.

“Actually, Joel, I do.”

Tommy cut her off quickly, jumping in to save the conversation from Joel’s dismissal.

“She’s right, Joel. I mean, shit, you look like a fuckin’ kicked puppy, standin’ over here all by yourself, waitin’ for her to come find you. You should go find her, man. You’re bein’ pathetic.”

Joel whipped around to shoot a glare at his younger brother, but Maria raised her hands up to gesture for him to calm down.

“Look, Joel. I know I haven’t exactly been supportive of rekindling this old twin flame or whatever, but all I really care about is that she’s happy—and lately, well...” She trailed off, and Joel felt a pang of guilt erupt in his chest.

When he elected not to respond, Maria sighed slowly, lowering herself from the stool and gesturing for Tommy to follow behind her.

“I can’t force you to do anything, but just—think about it, okay?”

The man felt the corner of his lip twitch downward in annoyance, but nonetheless he let out a grunt of acknowledgement. After sharing a knowing look with one another, Tommy and Maria finally left Joel to wallow in his own self-pity.

The night was balmy and humid. Joel’s t-shirt clung to his chest from the stickiness in the air, and the streets were eerily quiet as he trudged home alone.

He would’ve asked Ellie to join him, but she was enjoying herself at the bar, surrounded by joyful faces and a general atmosphere of positivity. He wished he could let himself indulge in the simple pleasures of community, but the gaping hole in his chest refused to heal.

Music. He heard it as soon as your house entered his line of sight. As he walked closer, he could hear the familiar guitar riffs of a Johnny Cash song echoing in the distance, just within earshot. Light flickered on your front porch, and as Joel approached his own door, he caught sight of you—reclined on your porch swing, head tilted backwards with your eyes closed, a blissful smile on your features.

He didn’t want to disturb you or your relaxation, but his legs betrayed him—his feet carried him past his own stoop and towards the concrete steps leading up to you. The crunch of gravel beneath his boots caused you to jump, body tensing briefly until your eyes landed on the perpetrator—as soon as you saw him, your eyes softened.

“Cowboy.”

Joel paused on the second step at the sound of your voice, his fingers white-knuckling the railing in an effort to ground himself.

He didn’t speak—you seemed to anticipate his silence, because wordlessly scooted towards the far end of the bench, gesturing with a nod of your head for him to join you. Hesitantly, he obliged.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You started after awhile—Joel’s brows furrowed at the statement, tongue peeking from beneath his mustache as he wet his lips.

“No, no, I—you’ve been avoiding me.”

He clarified, and you let out a humorless laugh.

“My schedule has been the same every single day for ten years, at this point. I’m at the same places at the same time every day. Hardly seems like a coincidence that our paths never crossed.”

He’d never considered that before. Of course he hadn’t intentionally been avoiding you, but then again...had he been?

“Was lookin’ for you. At—at the Bison, I mean.”

He turned to look at you, and he met your gaze, your eyes darted away.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to miss your big night, or anything. I helped set up, I just—wasn’t in the mood for mingling.”

Joel hummed at that, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. His eyes skimmed over the row of homes in front of him, shrouded with pine trees and lowly lit by a few streetlamps—picturesque.

He cleared his throat. You clearly weren’t throwing him any bones, today. You sat in the silence, shoulders sagging low, eyes misty with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to speak, but—what to say?

“Overheard Maria tellin’ Ellie a story.”

His heart fluttered when you looked at him, curiosity successfully piqued.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Somethin’ about you savin’ her from a bear attack?”

For a moment, you froze, and Joel feared he may have unknowingly struck a nerve, but then you let out a bright, bubbly laugh, your eyes crinkling with amusement.

“She’s still telling that story?”

You could barely speak through your fit of uncontrollable giggling, doubling over as you drew in a long breath.

“What? S’not true?”

Joel teased, a brow quirked as a smile tugged at his lips, and your eyes were sparkling when you gazed up at him.

“Oh, it’s true, it’s just—I saved her from a taxidermized bear in a fucking Bass Pro Shop.”

His expression pulled into one of disbelief.

“I—you what?”

You giggled again, eyes turning glassy with nostalgia.

“Yeah. That’s where I ended up, at least for awhile. The day I left, when everything went to shit, my car ran out of gas right near a strip mall, and I figured Bass Pro Shop would be as good a place as any to hole up until things settled down—things never did settle down, of course—but I was lucky to be stuck where I was.”

“You never made it to a Quarantine Zone?”

Joel questioned, slightly bewildered. The idea of you, out in the big wide world, all by yourself, terrified him. You laughed coldly.

“No one was looking for me, Joel. No one knew I was out on the backroads driving to Cali. I was lucky. Ran into this older couple at the mall, we—we made due, at least, for as long as it lasted.”

Your tone grew bitter.

“They went out to go hunting one day and never came back. So it was just me in that big department store, surrounded by moldy fish tanks and hunting rifles that I didn't know how to use.”

Joel risked a look at your face, and there were tears forming under your lashes. He let himself lean in closer to you, an attempt at providing comfort, a reminder that he was here with you, that you weren't alone. Not anymore.

You didn’t pull away.

“Been meanin’ to ask.”

He started hesitantly, and when you glanced at him, he lifted a hand to his face, gesturing across his eye in a downward stroke. Oh. The scar.

“Not a glamorous story. Saved a family from some Infected, but the eldest son—he got bit. The middle daughter shot him to save her younger brother, while the mom was unconscious. When she came-to, I told her I did it so she wouldn’t have to know it was the sister, and she attacked me. Punched me right across the face, and the diamond on her wedding ring ripped into me.”

“What did ya do?”

You shrugged, sniffing indignantly.

“I sat back and took the hits. What was I supposed to do? I can’t imagine that sort of grief. Losing a kid...”

Joel felt something twist in his gut as you trailed off, and this time, he felt you lean into him, your shoulder brushing his own.

He didn’t pull away.

“You know, I was never mad at you about my dad, Joel.”

He blinked, his chest tightening at the casualness of your tone. He stayed quiet, as he wasn’t even sure any sound would come out if he opened his mouth to speak.

“I don’t care that he’s dead. I don’t care how he died. I tried calling him the day of the outbreak, to tell him I was coming to California—only person I could reach was his fucking secretary. He never cared about me, and I never cared about him.”

The bitterness in your tone was startling, but that’s not what shook Joel. What made him falter was when you turned to look at him.

“I was mad at you because you thought that the right time to tell me about it was when I was leaning in to kiss you.”

Again, you were met with silence. It didn’t come as much of a shock to you, Joel’s lack of response, but it still made your face flush with annoyance.

“You will do anything in your power to avoid being vulnerable with me, Joel. Always have. I just thought, after all this time—maybe things would be different.”

“Why would you think that?”

A knife to the gut is what his words felt like. He knew it as soon as he said it, how your face would fall and you’d flinch away from him.

But you didn’t. Your face remained stoic, unchanged, unwavering.

“Because I’m different now, Joel. I’m not a little girl anymore. The only thing that hasn’t changed it what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

You huffed out an indignant laugh, turning to face the view of the street again. Inside, your record player scratched to a halt, casting the two of you in silence.

“’ve never been shy about what I wanted, Joel. Even after all these years, it’s always been you.”

The words settled on his chest, heavy and suffocating. Surely, you were bluffing.

“The hell is that supposed to mean? You sayin’ that even after all these years, there’s never been anyone else?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes at his brashness.

“Yeah, Joel, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He felt his mouth run dry at your confession. Twenty years, a whole lifetime, and you’d never even moved on. Was it out of stubbornness, spite, or something else entirely?

“The thing you don’t seem to understand, Joel, is I’m fine on my own. I’ve waited twenty years for a person that I thought was probably dead, or at least a person I never thought I’d see again, and I was fine with that. I’m never gonna settle for less than what I want, Joel, and that goes for you, too.”

Joel’s brows furrowed.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

There was a twitch in your brow, a crack in your impenetrable facade. You shook your head wryly.

“It means that I believe you when you say you’re not the same person anymore, Joel.”

You looked over at him once again, but there were tears in your eyes. One slipped down and traced the line of your scar as it fell.

“It means you’re not the one I’ve been waiting for anymore.”

Anger suddenly welled in the pit of Joel’s chest.

“What’dya want me to say? That you’re wrong? That I am the same person?”

You sniffled, shaking your head at his outburst.

“I don’t want you to say anything, cowboy. I just want you to realize that I’m not the same girl that fell to her knees and begged for you to love her. And I never will be again.”

You were practically snarling at him, and it was in that moment that Joel realized he might have lost you for good.

TAGLIST: @spiidergirlsworld @canpillowscry @str84pedro @daddy-din @pedropascal-whore @canpillowscry @pppmitt @thirdoffive @lovekk2plus @elliescumsl0t @kagajgajaguwbeidheubqk @cookielovesbook-akie @kamcrazy123 @ohnosy @dayrdreaming @notsosecretspy@arquiiva @yyiikes @shotgun-shelby(please comment to be added/removed)

#tlou #the last of us #tlou series #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel x reader #tlou smut #tlou imagine #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfic #joel and ellie #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #projectionistwrites

[ladyironsky]

Rewatching one of my favorite childhood movies, Tremors, a b horror movie starring Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward about underground monsters that hunt by sound, and I want to talk about a specific character.

Specifically the main female lead and love interest to Kevin Bacon’s Valentine- Rhonda Lebeck.  For a movie made in 1990, Rhonda is a surprisingly feminist portrayal of a female lead (like Laura Dern’s Ellie in Jurassic Park).

Rhonda is a student studying seismic activity in the isolated town of Perfection, Nevada and is constantly acknowledged, by every character int he movie including (and especially) the men, as the smartest person in town.  They constantly ask her opinion and respect her intelligence and never question the fact that a woman is smarter than they are.  Any time she has an idea it is never question because she is a woman and she never has to do that not-really-feminist-a-woman-must-prove-herself thing movies to this day still do.

There is one scene about halfway through the movie where Rhonda gets tangled up in barbed wire and must take off her pants in order to escape the monster dragging her into it’s mouth using said barbed wire.  The scene is in no way played as sexual, or a gratification scene for the men watching the movie.  any close up of Rhonda is shot from the waist up and we only see her bare legs in wider shots meant to showcase the monster, not her half-nakedness.  the only time we see a closeup of her bare legs is when her wounds are being tended to, it only lasts a few moments, and you can see that she has hair on her legs.  Which took me a few re-watches to notice but I feel added to the non-sexual take on her bare legs, as even to this day women in movies and tv are always shaved as smooth as dolphins.

She also dresses appropriately for the situation she’s in- hiking boots, cargo pants, long sleeved shirt.  Earlier in the movie she wears shorts that aren’t halfway up her ass.  She dresses for doing fieldwork in the middle of the desert and the filmmakers didn’t take it as an opportunity to have her parading around in short shorts and a bikini top like some movies have done to female characters in horror movies.

I just like how Rhonda is treated like a character, not just a two dimensional love interest.  The relationship between her and Valentine is also really sweet and it’s revealed in later movies, that neither character appear in, that they get married and have a daughter together (although it is implied in later movies the two have gotten divorced).

Just a solid character and one of my favorite female characters in a movie.

#tremors #tremors 1990 #movie #rhonda lebeck #Valentine mckee #kevin bacon #finn carter

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

tw for rape and csa

//

I was watching episode 8 of the last of us and that’s where a preacher attempts to groom and sexually assault ellie and I watched the aftermath to see if her actress commented about how she felt filming that scene and if she received any psychological help to support her through it and honestly it really annoyed me how the men talked about what happened.

first they say they didn’t want joel to save ellie and I get they’re going for ellie is a girlboss she can save herself uwu but like this is not a fantasy situation where a female warrior/soldier/whatever gets disempowered for the male character’s development ellie is literally a teenager fighting off against two adult men, needing to be saved is not weak or damsel in distress cliche, to me it was about how SA victims don’t get saved by someone else because their attackers isolate them, this wasn’t a strong female character moment it was more than that, and I am glad they acknowledge that this deeply traumatized her.

and secondly in the same way they applaud her for saving herself they have to demonize her, david tried to manipulate ellie by saying she scares him and that’s why he has to lock her up, and how ellie is violent just like him, and the writers/producers seem to agree??? that ellie is a little bit violent and “even if we love her we are little bit scared by her” like????

ellie is a sweet girl who loves puns and reading comic books, she is still a child and that’s proven by how she tried to help sam in a way that a child would, she is only violent when she needs to defend herself or others, this girl is afraid, she fought off david because he was being creepy to her and was gonna eat her or rape her, but david is violent to assert control and benefit himself.

and then I realized we are not used to seeing women and girls in movies fight off their attackers and rapists we are used to seeing the cameras zoom in their pained faces in a way that’s supposed to be erotic, and in real life women who fight off their rapists and manage to injure or kill him are seen with scrutiny because it makes people uncomfortable when women don’t just take it, and then we get into discussions of how it was mutually abusive/violent and no one knows what happened, so like it’s a whole thing, but it really made me uncomfortable when they called her violent comparative to david.

[clarepreed]

Resus Stories: Drowning

Symbol Key:

🏳️‍🌈 (patient/rescuer is LGBTQ+)

Death Diving - 5,821 words. Off-duty lifeguard Charlotte tries Norwegian death diving at a snowy national park. Drowning, arrhythmia, hypothermia, on-site resuscitation. 🏳️‍🌈

Double Trouble - 4,942 words. Two women drown on a beach vacation. Drowning, two victims, on-site resuscitation.

First Person Drowning - 4,227 words. A departure from my usual writing, this story is written in first person point of view, present tense. Elin is knocked unconscious, only she can still feel everything happening to her as her wife, Devin, tries to save her life. Public explicit sex, drowning, on-site resuscitation. 🏳️‍🌈

Molasses - 5,806 words. A waterless drowning at a molasses processing facility. Can Ryan save his crush Kayla from what seems like certain death? Drowning, on-site resuscitation.

Moonlit Mistake - 4,205 words. An intoxicated woman, Isla, wanders away from a party and drowns in the surrounding wetlands. Her girlfriend Sarah discovers her, and the party is interrupted by a drunken resuscitation attempt. Intoxication, vomit, drowning, on-site resuscitation. 🏳️‍🌈

Mud - 5,100 words. Northerner Nikki may not survive her first mudding date with her Southern boyfriend. Suffocation/drowning and on-site resuscitation. Features Zoll AutoPulse.

Secondary: Part One - 4,021 words. Part Two - 5,625 words. Summer and Kees are on a vacation in an isolated location when Summer drowns. She is successfully resuscitated, only to succumb to secondary drowning. Injury, drowning, pulmonary edema, tension pneumothorax, on-site resuscitation x2, resuscitation in a boat.

Slip and Fall - 4,518 words. Ellie and Mateo are on a hike and Ellie has an accident. Drowning and on-site resuscitation.

Water - 4,921 words. Natalie finds her wife drowned in the bath. Drowning, heart attack, two victims, on-site resuscitation. 🏳️‍🌈

Table of Contents

--

Series stories fitting this category

Read out of series order at your own risk! (below cut)

Larissa & Mitchell

Not for the Faint of Heart: Part One - 3,473 words. Part Two - 4,869 words. Larissa has long term side effects from her multiple hypoxic injuries. First aid, explicit sex, seizure, drowning, status epilepticus, on-site resuscitation, respiratory arrest in an ambulance.

Drowning - 5,642 words. Mark and Samuel convince Mitchell to take a break from Larissa's bedside in the ICU, only for Mitchell to have a serious accident at home. Drowning, male victim, sexual references, on-site resuscitation. 🏳️‍🌈♂️

Lifeguard Not On Duty - 4,544 words. Larissa and Mitchell pull a drowning neighbor from the ocean. On-site resuscitation.

Protect - 9,394 words. Larissa grows stronger and healthier as she and Mitchell recoup on a private beach in Hawaii. When they choose to return home for Kieran's wedding, however, events take a violent turn. Explicit sex, violence, blood, mention of self-unaliving, drowning, hypovolemic shock, on-site resuscitation, resuscitation in a moving ambulance, resuscitation in the Emergency Department.

Cheating Death - 8,111 words. Larissa receives pictures and video of Mitchell having an affair with another woman and the stress has a deleterious effect on her health. Depicted sexual acts, masturbation, seizure, drowning, on-site resuscitation, angst, hurt/comfort. Resus Scene: Larissa's POV - 2,181 words. Larissa's resuscitation from her point of view. Drowning, angst, hurt/comfort, on-site resuscitation.

Table of Contents

#resus writing #cpr resus #female resus #medical drama

[chipkoy]

~The Main Four’s Bios~

I decided to create bios for my new ocs because I absolutely love them already, and I wanna give them all the attention they need!! And I hope y’all love them as well!!

Litton the Knight

Name: Litton Hughes (transmasc, he/him)

Age: 38

Height: 6’1

Sexuality: Gay

Bio: Litton is a British man, servicing as a knight for the kingdom of Utozia. He is very intelligent, he is in fact bilingual, and a little book worm. But for someone who is smart, you can say he sometimes has his head in the clouds, given the fact everyone in his kingdom praises him a lot for being so strong, handsome, etc. Litton grew up in a loving and supporting family, they practically spoiled him with unconditional love, but Litton is thankfully not a snarky spoiled brat. In saving Princess Ellis, he develops a friendship with her. But as for Tog and Lorelei along the journey, not likely. Especially Tog…?

Tog the Orc

Name: Tog (male, he/him)

Age: 40

Height: 7’2

Sexuality: Panromantic, Ace

Bio: Tog is an introverted orc who isolates himself in the middle of the forest. Well, he is not necessarily alone, he in fact has his human mother (Anastasia) that looks after him. Many years ago when Tog was a baby, his parents tried to eat him, but Anastasia came in to rescue the little orc. Tog was raised fair and well like a gentleman, and he definitely wasn’t used to receive love and affection, but he heavily appreciates his mother for looking after him. As Tog gotten older, he trained into being a bounty hunter, so he can collect bounty to support him and his mother. When word was let out that Princess Ellis was kidnapped and need of rescuing, he was promised a bounty of 200,000 coins. But when he finally reaches to the princess, he runs into Litton and Lorelei trying to get to her as well, and he is not fond of those two at all.

Princess Ellis

Name: Ellis Alfie (female, she/her)

Age: 26

Height: 5’2

Sexuality: Lesbian

Bio: Ellis is the princess of the kingdom of Utozia. She is really kind, very soft spoken, and a gentle soul to all. She enjoys writing poems, painting, and creating dresses. What she dreams of doing is traveling to many places, and open a shop for her poems, art, and dresses. As much as her parents support her passions, they are very urgent to get Ellis to marry a prince, and raise a family. But one of Ellis’ biggest fears is her parents discovering that she loves women and have them get upset. On the day she has gotten kidnapped, and she meets Litton, Tog, and Lorelei, she often wonders if they can change her life.

Lorelei the Evil

Name: Lorelei Navahan (nonbinary, she/they)

Age: 32

Height: 5’11

Sexuality: Bisexual

Bio: Lorelei is a wanted thief in the kingdom of Utozia. But “thief” is a naughty word, and they prefer to be called a pickpocket. They’re not exactly a villain, but they’re definitely not a saint. Also they’re kind of a messy thief at times. Lorelei is really extroverted, sassy, and has a feisty attitude. They grew up in an orphanage when they were younger, but they were never adopted because no one wanted them. Due to having a bad attitude, Lorelei never had any friends or partners, but in their adult life they would swing from time to time. When hearing of a princess in need of rescuing, and they meet the princess, the privileged knight, and fat orc, they are totally up for the time of their miserable life.

#litton #litton the knight #tog #tog the orc #ellis #princess ellis #ellis the princess #lorelei #lorelei the evil #ocs #oc #original characters #original character

[biboocat]

I first heard about The Story of an African Farm (1883) by the South African writer Olive Schreiner in Vera Brittain’s memoir of the Great War, Testament of Youth. She and her fiancé, Roland Leighton were intensely interested in it, but its contents weren’t discussed, so I was curious to read it. Olive Schreiner wrote this debut novel when she was only in her 20s. The Story of an African Farm is set on an isolated farm in the South African veld. It is a coming of age story of the three children who live there, the two girls Em and Lyndall and Waldo, the farm manager’s son. Schreiner’s views are told mostly through Waldo and Lyndall as we follow their development and difficult quests. The novel is unconventional. Besides the traditional narrative sections it has the unusual features of an exposition (Times and Seasons) and an allegory as well as a lengthy letter. She describes Waldo’s spiritual journey from unquestioned religious belief to skepticism and apostasy and the replacement of the religious void with knowledge and an appreciation for the beauty and order of Nature. Olive Schreiner was raised by devout Christian missionaries but lost her religious faith after the death of her beloved 17 month old sister Ellie. Schreiner also raises the issue of gender inequality through Lyndall: the limitations on women’s education and their subservient roles in society, and she describes Lyndall’s desperate struggle for autonomy. I wasn’t surprised to learn that Olive Schreiner loved George Eliot‘s the Mill on the Floss and that she identified with Maggie Tulliver. Her views were quite progressive and controversial for her time, and the book was met with both wide appeal and opposition. I can imagine how it must have resonated with Vera Brittain’s own agnosticism and feminism. It’s a philosophical work that courageously challenges both the form of the Victorian novel and restrictive Victorian social conventions.

Memorable excerpts (among many):

“We must have awakened sooner or later. The imagination cannot always triumph over reality, the desire over truth…Now we have no God. We have had two: The old God that our fathers handed down to us, that we hated, and never liked; the new one that we made for ourselves, that we loved; but now he has flitted away from us, and we see what he was made of – the shadow of our highest ideal, crowned and enthroned.”

“But we, wretched unbelievers, we bear our own burdens; we must say, I myself did it, I. Not God, not Satan; I myself!”

I came across a reference to Olive Schreiner in a review of Lyndall Gordon’s biographical work, Outsiders: Five Women Writers Who Changed the World. I haven’t read it, but it sounded interesting, and I have provided the link:

The edition I read is from the Limited Editions Club. The cover material is Ugandan bark cloth, Isak Dinesen provides the introduction, and it is illustrated by Paul Hogarth. I have also seen editions from Oxford World’s Classics, Penguin, Virago, and Modern Library.

Memorable excerpts :

It is a terrible, hateful ending, said the little teller of the story, leaning forward on her folded arms; and the worst is, it is true. I have noticed, added the child very deliberately, that it is only the made up stories that end nicely; the true ones all end so.

They did not understand the discourse (the charlatan’s false sermon), which made it the more affecting. There hung over it that inscrutable charm which hovers for ever for the human intellect over the incomprehensible and shadowy.

To the old German the story it was no story. Its events were as real and as important to himself as the matters of his own life. He could not go away without knowing whether the wicked Earl relented, and whether the Baron married Emelina.

Times and Seasons is a very important chapter that outlines the course of one’s experiences with religious faith (if one is willing to think for oneself): belief, questioning, skepticism, disbelief, and finally the replacement of religion with knowledge and an appreciation of the beauty and order of Nature. Some excerpts from this chapter follow:

Is it good of God to make hell? Was it kind of Him to let no one be forgiven unless Jesus Christ died?

Is it right there should be a chosen people? To Him, who is father to all, should not all be dear?

We must have awakened sooner or later. The imagination cannot always triumph over reality, the desire over truth…Now we have no God. We have had two: The old God that our fathers handed down to us, that we hated, and never liked; the new one that we made for ourselves, that we loved; but now he has flitted away from us, and we see what he was made of – the shadow of our highest ideal, crowned and enthroned. Now we have no God...

We do not cry and weep; we sit down with cold eyes and look at the world. We are not miserable. Why should we be? We eat and drink, and sleep all night; but the dead are not colder.

And we add, growing a little colder yet, ‘There is no justice. The ox dies in the yoke beneath its master’s whip; it turns its anguish-filled eyes on the sunlight, but there is no sign of recompense to be made it. The black man is shot like a dog, and it goes well with the shooter. The innocent are accused, and the accuser triumphs. If you will take the trouble to scratch the surface anywhere, you will see under the skin a sentient being writhing in impotent anguish.’ And we say further, and our heart is as the heart of the dead for coldness, ‘There is no order’: all things are driven about by a blind chance.’. p117

What a soul drinks in with its mothers milk will not leave it in a day. From earliest hour we have been taught that the thought of the heart, the shaping of the rain-cloud, the amount of wool that grows on a sheep‘s back, the length of a drought, and the growing of the corn depend on nothing that moves immutable, at the heart of all things; but on the changeable will of a changeable being, whom our prayers can alter. To us, from the beginning, nature has been but a poor plastic thing, to be toyed with this way or that, as man happens to please his deity or not; to go to church or not; to say his prayers right or not; to travel on a Sunday or not. Was it possible for us in an instant to see Nature as she is – the flowing vestment of unchanging reality? When a soul breaks free from the arms of a superstition, bits of the claws and talons break themselves off in him. It is not the work of a day to squeeze them out...

Whether a man believes in a human-like God or no is a small thing. Whether he looks into the mental and physical world and sees no relation between cause and effect, no order, but a blind chance sporting, this is the mightiest fact that can be recorded in any spiritual existence. p118

Following this, the appreciation of the acquisition of knowledge and Nature’s own beauty and order fills the void of religion. pp119-121

We have never once been taught by word or act to distinguish between religion and the moral laws on which it has artfully fastened its self, and from which it has sucked it’s vitality.

But we, wretched unbelievers, we bear our own burdens; we must say, I myself did it, I. Not God, not Satan; I myself!

The secret of success is concentration; wherever there has been a great life, or a great work, that has gone before. Taste everything a little, look at everything a little; but live for one thing. Anything is possible to a man who knows his end and moves straight for it, and for it alone.

#olive schreiner

[uranianrights]

In 1923, Emma Goldman wrote to Magnus Hirschfeld concerning a profile of Louise Michel in Hirschfeld's Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen in which it had been argued by a contributer that Louise Michel had been an Uranian.

Having known Louise Michel personally, Emma Goldman requests from Hirschfeld that he publish her rebuttal of the former article, as she believes it to be mistaken and reliant on a stereotypical view of women.

Of her own beliefs, she writes:

"Before I deal with von Levetzow's article, permit me to say this: It is not prejudice against homosexuality or the aversion to homosexuals which prompts me to point out the errors in the claim of the author. If Louise Michel had ever demonstrated homosexual traits to those who knew and loved her, I should be the last person to attempt to clear her from the "stigma". [...]

Years ago, when I knew nothing at all about sex psychology and when my only acquaintance with homosexuals were some of the women I had met in prison where I was incarcerated for my political opinions, I came out in defense of Oscar Wilde. As an Anarchist, my place has ever been with the persecuted. I saw in the persecution and prosecution of Oscar Wilde reflected the cruel injustice and hypocrisy of the very society which sent him to his doom. Hence my defense of him.

Later, I went to Europe, and there came upon the works of Havelock Ellis, Krafft Ebbing, Carpenter, and many others which made me see the crime against Oscar Wilde and his kind, this time, in a more glaring light. From that time on I used my pen and voice in behalf of those whom nature, herself, has destined to be different in their sex psychology and needs. Your works, Dear Doctor, have helped me much in shedding light on the very complex question of sex psychology, and in humanising the attitude of people who came to hear me.

From this, your readers will see that I have no prejudice whatever, or the least antipathy, to homosexuals. Quite to the contrary. I have among my friends men and women either complete Urnings or Bi-Sexuals. I have found them far above the average in intelligence, ability, sensitiveness and charm. I feel deeply with them, because I know that their sufferings are greater and more complex than that of most people. There is, however, one predominant tendency among homosexuals which I must oppose. It is their attempt to claim every outstanding personality for their creed, to ascribe to them traits and characteristics inherent in themselves."

After debunking the former article, she goes on to say:

"You will agree with me, I am sure, that neither the question of homosexuality or of the homosexuals can gain anything by a misstatement of facts."

The same can be said for the trans cause. This letter, which can be read in its entirety here, is the source of a quote which is often mistranslated (across time, not languages) when used in isolation. It is often claimed that where Goldman writes "I have among my friends men and women either complete Urnings or Bi-Sexuals" one should read "I have many friends who are trans."

While Uranians (and even more so Urningen, the German equivalent) most certainly referred to a group of people that included people we would call trans today, we can see from the context that that's not what Goldman is referring to.

Due to the lack of strong distinctions between (in modern terms) gay and trans people at that time, it's entirely possible that among the friends she was referring to there were trans people. It is however misleading -- both in general, but particularly in context -- to translate "Urnings" or "Uranians" as "transgender". It can of course also be misleading to translate it as "gay" without any caveats, but in the context of this letter, it is not significantly so.

By the 1920s, "bisexual" also tended to mean the same thing it does today. Had the letter been from the turn of the century, I would be inclined to believe she meant intersex people, but both the dating and the context indicates that she means "bisexual" in the modern sense.

Had Goldman meant to reference trans people specifically, the word "transsexual" would not have been available to her yet (Hirschfeld coins it later the same year), but she would likely have used the word "transvestite" (as Hirschfeld did prior to coming up with "transsexualismus").

Now do I find it likely that Emma Goldman supported the trans people of her time? Most certainly. She could hardly be as admiring of Hirschfeld as she plainly is in this letter without being pro trans. That quote is not the slam dunk some people treat it as, however.

Frankly, throwing that quote around like that is just ammo for TERFs, because it enables them to claim that trans people are "usurping" gay history or other such nonsense (as if the two can even be sensibly disentangled).

#emma goldman #uranian #urning #1920s #20th century #magnus hirschfeld #terminology #Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen #louise michel

[chaotic-theatrical-weaver]

I will never understand the Alana bashers.

Alana deserved better and here's why: because underneath all the hard work and achievements, she's a sad, unseen girl who just wants to mean something. Look at how she sings her four-line reprise of "Waving Through a Window." She's singing it in the first place because she feels ignored, and she stops at four lines because she doesn't feel her words matter. Alana has been established to be an intelligent girl, and it is very possible that she would say things that fly over her peers' heads and forget that they don't all know what she's talking about. They may see her as a stuck-up know-it-all for simply forgetting her audience, and as such, she faded out, unsure if she could withstand any further pain. However, invisibility comes with the feeling of uselessness, and she throws herself into multiple projects to offset that, deciding that if she doesn't matter to her peers, she should at least be important to the people she helps. The Connor Project's mission was to show everyone should matter, so she naturally jumped at the chance and is willing to do anything she can to ensure its success. If you consider the possibility that she ends up tying her feelings of self-worth to these projects and their outcomes, then that makes things even more heartbreaking for her when she publishes Evan's therapy letter as Connor's "last words" in a last-ditch effort to ensure that interest in the project remains high and that Connor isn't forgotten (the project's original goal). Anyone who wishes to interpret her as a gifted kid as opposed to a merely intelligent person can consider Dabrowski's theory of overexcitablities--if she has an emotional OE (in my opinion, Kaitlyn Santa Juana, Talia Simone Robinson, and, to a lesser extent, Kristolyn Lloyd all portrayed her this way) this may amplify any feelings of guilt following the fallout with the Murphys. Sadly, hardly anyone sees who she really is and sees only her costly mistake, yet these same people will let Evan off the hook for his own mistakes. Also, ever notice how she refers to people as "acquaintances"? That's because she feels she has no friends. So, in conclusion, this blog is a safe space for Alana Beck, and we love, respect, and support her in this house. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#dear evan hansen #deh #dear evan hansen novel #alana beck #pro-Alana Beck #ellie's isolated women #ellie's lit rambles

[coffincoitus]

another ask about gender—one of the things that disappointed me a little about dead ringers 2023 was the lack of name switching (i know. it’s silly) but i was looking forward to that element of, growing up with a name that doesn’t usually fall under your sex. but as the story progressed it didn’t matter /or make sense/ because they weren’t men (a girl growing up with a boy’s name isn’t as isolating or stifling as a boy growing up with a girl’s name)

yeah. technically elliot had a masculine name, even tho everyone called her elly anyway. but it's like you said – it's not that relevant of a theme when they're women.

I do think they tried to explore the relationship between names and parental gender expectations in a way that was relevant to the tv show a little with how elliot, as the heterosexual twin, went by a family-given cutesy nickname and was very much the softer more affectionate daddy's girl. while beverly refused nicknames growing up and kept a colder front, which was a point of contention with her mother (I remember her mother passive-aggressively saying something like "oh, no nicknames for the general". not to mention the somewhat arbitrary comments about beverly not being right for motherhood)

tbf their parents did not seem to have any contempt for beverly's sexuality, but her "hardness" and failure to perform some girlhood vulnerability and insistence in being "beverly" and not "bev" was an obvious clash with femininity/womanhood, for her mother at least.

I'd have to rewatch to say anything more constructive 💐

#answered

[milfzatannaz]

Pls elaborate on the 2015 Skrillex fandom phase

WOAH. this takes me way back

I just want to preface this that I was 12-13 in this era. Like I really was just a really lonely stupid kid, and I was struggling with coming out in middle school and feeling isolated and lonely. so I saw a gif of an asshole with a bad haircut and I was like he’s mine now. I really loved him for many years. I can’t explain it.

I shaved half my head at 13. yeah. I also have one of the most comprehensive tags of his band days from 2004-2007 and half the time idk what to do with all those images bc someone might want them one day? again idek

aside from that the “edm” fandom was awful. Real people shipping and fights over it. Rampant misogyny. People actually hated Ellie Goulding for simply dating a few of the guys. At age 13 I snarkily posted that there seemed to only be white men that ppl obsessed over and I got accused of racefaking.

the whole thing came to a head when skrillex teamed up with diplo. I always got really bad vibes off that fucker, and then suddenly they’re releasing bad pop music with Justin Bieber and objectifying women. I got into several fights, bc no one wanted to admit that diplo was actively not a good role model to a bunch of fucking tweens. I feel so bad for all of us, bc we were just dumb kids. So one day I changed my URL and settings to make it hard to find my blog and never looked back. Since then I was a Star Wars blog, a marvel blog, x men blog, batfam blog then braime and finally the sexy talented vertigo girly you all know! (I’ve had many cringe phases)

I actually fully stopped listening to skrillex cold turkey in 2021 bc I no longer recognized him. He had gotten much older, grosser, started hanging around Jordan Peterson and was starting to be weird about women. so I don’t miss that part of my life. I take a lot of power in the women I look up to now.

#answered #this was a fucking essay what the fuck

[melanielocke]

I see emojis omg /j

📚 - Do you have any mystery book recommendations? Specifically murder mystery? Preferably female protagonist? It's okay if they're male though 🤗 (just because there aren't many good ones with female leads).

This request turned out to be a bit of a problem, because it turns out I don't really read mysteries. So instead, I gathered book that are murder mystery adjacent enough that I hope you might like them.

The Wicked Deep by Shea Ernshaw is a horror YA

It is set in a small coastal town in Oregon where two centuries ago, three sisters were accused of witchcraft and thrown into the harbor with rocks tied to their ankles. Now, every year the sisters return, possess the bodies of three girls from town and each drown a boy in the harbor.

Penny, like most people in the village, accepted their town's fate. But then just before the drowning season starts, a mysterious boy called Bo shows up, unaware of the danger he's just stumbled into, and Penny does not quite know if she can trust him.

This book is not exactly the classic murder mystery, but it does have the kind of huge twist you'd expect from one. It is very atmospheric, and I think that's where this author excels.

Winterwood is the second book by Shea Ernshaw

It is set somewhere different in Oregon (pretty sure that's where the author lives), and follows Nora Walker, a girl who lives in a very isolated mountain village, near the mysterious and potentially deadly Wicker Woods. Rumored to be a witch, only Nora knows the truth about the Wicker Woods. She and the women in her family have a special connection to the place, and one night during a full moon she finds Oliver, a boy who disappeared several weeks ago from the Camp for Wayward Boys and has no memory of what happened.

Nora comes to care for Oliver, but has no choice but to find out what really happened the night he went missing and how he could still be alive. Because Oliver is not the only boy who went missing that night.

Like the Wicked Deep, this more horror than mystery but it has a strong mystery element in it, with another twist suiting a mystery. Like the Wicked Deep, it is also very atmospheric.

There's someone inside your house by Stephanie Perkins

This is a slasher book, but it's also quite heavy on the romance. It's been a while since I read it, and I think there's also a movie of it on Netflix and I think they have a very different ending and a different killer so I'm not sure which happens in which anymore. I think the movie did better in regards of suspense and tension than the book so maybe I'd recommend the movie first? They have some of the same characters and are both slasher/serial killer stories but I think in the movie the deaths were more impactful and the reveal was more exciting.

The story follow Makani, who moved to the town from Hawaii after an incident there, which is hinted at and revealed later on (but I kind of found it underwhelming and weird), and then she makes a couple friends and meets Ollie and teens at her school start dying.

A Lesson in Vengeance by Victoria Lee is not exactly mystery, but it does have murder in it

It is a dark academia set on a very fancy boarding school, and Felicity returns there for her last year after staying away for some time after her first girlfriend had died. Here, she meets new student Ellis, a teen writing prodigy with her first book out, who calls herself a method writer and is now researching an old story about witches that are said to have lived and died on the school grounds. It is part romance between the two girls, but the whole story is pretty dark and messed up and Felicity is at times convinced that these witches might be real and responsible for her girlfriend's death. This is not an easy book to explain but it really was quite good.

The Dead and the Dark is a paranormal/horror mystery set in a small town in Oregon. Because apparently Oregon is where all the spooky paranormal mystery things happen? I don't know, it seems to be a popular location

Logan's two dads host a ghost hunting show together, and have traveled to this town, which is also their hometown, for the new season. But teenagers are disappearing and there might be something really spooky going on here, and Logan has the feeling her dads are keeping secrets from her.

Ashley is a girl who has lived in this town her entire life, and her boyfriend was the first to go missing. Now, Logan is her only hope to find him.

This is a sapphic story as well as a paranormal mystery, but the emphasis is more on the mystery, I think. There are ghosts in here and a pretty sinister and quite creative explanation for what is happening in this town and why.

Last on the list is Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

More fantasy than murder mystery, but the main premise is that a boy dies and the main character, Yadriel, accidently summons his ghost. Yadriel is a brujo, and in his community brujo's can speak with ghosts, but his family was hesitant to let him use his powers because he's transgender and they're not sure if he can be a brujo or would wield female powers instead. When he summons Julian, Julian wants Yadriel to find out who killed him, and the two go on an investigation. But the longer they are together, the more Yadriel wants Julian to stay with him.

#the wicked deep #winterwood #shea ernshaw #there's someone inside your house #stephanie perkins #a lesson in vengeance #victoria lee #the dead and the dark #courtney gould #cemetery boys #aiden thomas #lola's ask #ask answered #nina's 150 follower celebration

[witchlockmonsterfox]

the thing about the “lack of coffee” subplot in TLOU is after going through the game many times (yes watching all ten hours of it on youtube) is i genuinely believe in the original game coffee beans were one of the crops contaminated. a notice states contaminated crops originated from south america in the game. in the series bill did stockpile coffee — in the game, no one has, and joel says it more so as a side comment than if he’s a huge java junkie. when ellie asks him his order, he fumbles — either because it’s too weird for ellie to understand or i get the impression from his “j-just coffee” he was in coffee shops for other reasons, like to try to pick up women. maybe he once performed in them, who knows.

this was kind of a plothole in the game, because coffee is grown around the world, meaning uncontaminated coffee beans probably still existed, along with any older beans from before the contamination. they are not exclusive to south america and will not only grow there.

they’ve figured out ways to test the fungus in human beings and coffee would merely be a substrate at most. so would all grain, flour, even soil in the earth (which interestingly they DID incorporate in the series which i liked very much because that is how real species of cordyceps work!) however, in the series, they use soil as a spreading ground and as far as we know, they don’t feed on anything in it.

crops get infected by literal fungus, not just as a substrate, all the time — we don’t lose that entire plant or its products from existence. admittedly, there have been cases where diseases have nearly wiped plants out of existence, but even in an apocalyptic situation it’s hard to buy coffee would be wiped from existence. it’s unbelievable that even after the outbreak they would fail to have isolated, sterilized, and decontaminated crops. grain especially is very important.

ETA: we also KNOW they have because Ellie was eating a *sandwich* that had been smuggled in. bread is made from grain.

i’m not a mycologist, though, just a Guy with a biology and chemistry background — but this is kind of my hypothesis that the original game was trying to tell us coffee was an infected crop, not just that joel liked coffee.

(my secret SECRET hypothesis is that cocaine was one of the infected crops, it’s made from the coca plant. but that’s just me being funny about my chosen academic subject of choice)

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou hbo

[torturedpoetemotions]

Hi! just wanted to let you know, re: the last of us--the 'heartbreaking gay love story' is less a 'bury your gays' than it is a really beautiful portrait of a loving relationship even in the midst of a bleak world. there's no brutality that happens to either characters, and the heartbreak at the end is that of a life well lived, not one gone too soon. and wrt representation, ellie is a lesbian in the game and they're keeping her gay in the tv show so bill and frank aren't just a one off.

Love and light but I am zero percent interested in further queer rep from a piece of media whose first queer rep attempt ends in a double suicide.

Yes, I understand the narrative context of the death and that it makes sense for the story and is an improvement on the game. I get all of that. I don't need it explained to me, actually.

Because that doesn't make it not a bury your gays. That doesn't magically exempt it from being two more dead queer characters in a long history of dead queer characters. That doesn't isolate it from the cultural context of queer characters constantly being relegated to the margins of mainstream media where they can only exist insofar as they can be palatable to or ignored by straight audiences. That they framed it really well in the story doesn't absolve them of adding to that legacy, any more than giving a narrative reason for a sexist costume absolves a writer of putting women in sexist costumes.

If you enjoyed it or got something positive out of it, I'm glad for you. I'm glad it was beautiful, for you. I'm not even saying full stop that writers should never write about death when it comes to queer characters. After all, we all do die eventually. But they and straight audiences need to understand what context those stories are existing in. Bury your gays isn't about the method or narrative surroundings of the death. It's about the constant, consistent prevalence of death being the ending to queer stories, and what that's like to experience as a queer person.

And to be frank, I am on week 2 of clueless straight friends and relatives constantly begging me to watch this shit with no warnings attached, because they don't see any issue with shoving my queer disabled ass at a story where a queer disabled man and his lover kill themselves. And so my patience with people trying to explain to me why it's not really bury your gays is tissue paper fucking thin at this point.

It IS part of the bury your gays trope, and also this new little method of queer catching TV writers are doing where they squeeze the whole love story into a single episode so their straight viewers can easily skip it. And I'm so fucking tired of this shit.

If writers are going to claim to write for us, they need to actually think about what it's like for actual queer people to experience these stories. And straight people recommending these stories to their queer loved ones also need to consider what it's like for us to have every tryhard pseudo-progressive straight person in our lives badger us to watch these stories while withholding any trigger warnings so we can "experience it fully," because to them queers dying is a plot device, acceptable if well enough executed.

It isn't for us.

#ask box #anonymous #queer catching #bury your gays