#just as a complicated and deeply traumatized person

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

‘The point is not “is bftc good Jason characterization”’

Actually the point can be anything that the op of the post wants it to be. Oh you mean that is not your point. Um …. Cool. Nobody asked.

#*​provides canon proof of Jason absolutely traumatizing teens in canon* #/s #*the whopping two instances are titans tower and the Mia Dearden incident* #both of which happened around the same time as uth. effectively making Jason approximately … eighteen or nineteen. #while Mia was 17 and Tim was like 16. wow how could this seasoned old man be so cruel to these literal babies #this is coming from someone who cares deeply about how different authors’ visions for bruce can turn him into a male power fantasy #but according to this person that's technically all fanon because the authors are fans of Batman who write him how they want #<- a needlessly complicated way of saying it doesn’t matter that almost every writer has written Batman as a cop symbol #because they don’t agree with those authors’ visions it’s just bad characterization #not consistency #anyway back to how any Jason fan who doesn't ascribe to your flawless interpretation of these iffy events is actually missing the point #mhm okay ignored winick showing Jason desperately saving children like three times in lost days #and other authors later wrote him being good with kids too #oh but even if he had the same trait in post crisis and n52 these characterizations are actually irreconcilable because they said so #kelseethe #for someone who seemingly cares so much about numbers and patterns #they tend to skip a lot of important panels in their ‘analyses’ #like the panels in batman 650 where Jason mentioned the thousands joker killed and the friends he's crippled #and the lost days panels of him being upset about joker going on to hurt more families and fathers and sons #all this to claim Jason’s ultimatum in utrh was entirely self-centered #I guess it just goes to show how much evidence you have to ignore/disregard to come to the conclusion that Jason is a bad person #but yeah your vision is the be all & end all and anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t ~normal~

[amethysttribble]

Yeah I just figured out why I hate the term Eldest Daughter Syndrome as used commonly on the internet in general, but specifically in fandom-

It’s because it’s always bestowed as a badge of honor, meant to make someone seem meow meow blorbo-able, but the person I know best who actually fucking suffered for that phenomenon didn’t become slightly uwu anxious or a soft people pleaser or the most kind child caretaker ever or so #relatable tired

It made her a cunt

#I love my aunt #a LOT #I really do #she’s a complicated person with many good sides #and she fucking suffered let me tell you #but she also used her authority in that family to traumatize my mom almost as badly as their dad and I don’t say that likely #*lightly #like my mom is to this day more scared of her than her physically abusive father #gotten better but still deeply controlling #so when people say a character has EDS I hear Kill Bill sirens #and I ask the never asked question: do their younger siblings want their fucking problems being placed in them? #it’s not cute #anyway that’s just me #Tribble post #don’t mind me

[theotterpenguin]

thinking about how katara is the only person zuko tells about his mother, the only member of the gaang who zuko opens up to about his scar, the only person he let touch his scar, the person that zuko gained another scar for in order to protect. thinking about how all the terrible memories wound up in zuko's scars are also now intimately connected to katara's kindness. thinking about how katara is the first person zuko trusted, how she offered to heal his scar out of the goodness of her heart, how much he values that trust she placed in him and so he cares the most about rebuilding that connection with her - more than anyone else - after his betrayal. thinking about katara always being so in tune with zuko's feelings, how she understands the importance of zuko and iroh's relationship and is concerned about zuko during the eip, and how in return zuko chooses to open up to her when he's worried about his uncle forgiving him. thinking about how only katara has truly witnessed the complicated relationship between zuko and azula, how she's seen azula's manipulation of her brother but has also seen how zuko still cares for her and stands by him even when he's grieving the defeat of his sister. and how for all these reasons it only makes sense that zuko would want katara with him for the most difficult fight he's ever had to face, and it only makes sense that azula realizes killing katara will hurt zuko the most.

thinking about how zuko is so in tune with katara's feelings, how even when they were enemies the crystal catacombs he reaches out to her when he realizes she's upset, how he never invalidates her negative feelings towards him, but instead only asks what he can do for her. thinking about how zuko is the only person in the show that katara ever reveals the full story of her mother's death to, and how zuko is empathetic and kind and apologizes to her, despite not being responsible for it. thinking about how zuko is the one who recognizes that katara still has her own story to resolve, separate from aang's, and helps her overcome the most traumatic event of her life. thinking about how zuko understands the strength in katara and trusts her to make her own choices, never questioning katara's personal moral choice not to kill but also not to forgive. thinking about how zuko is the only person in the show that ever looks after katara's wellbeing while she's so busy caring for everyone else, how he asks katara to rest, how he realizes that katara needs to face her past to heal emotionally, how he takes katara to ember island for some alone time to process what has happened, how he is always shown helping out with house chores without being asked. how for once katara gets to be cared for instead of the caretaker. thinking about how zuko never makes his forgiveness a requirement of helping her, and yet, for all of these reasons, it only makes sense that katara chooses to forgive him. and it only makes sense that zuko is the person that katara ends up trusting the most deeply, the person she is willing to run into an agni kai arena for and risk her life because she cares for him and doesn't want him to get hurt.

just thinking about the way that katara and zuko share a relationship that is so unique from any other dynamics in the show, and how they share the most complicated, emotionally intimate connection in the gaang.

and it's no wonder that they always gravitate towards each other the most in the second half of book 3 - because they understand each other the most out of everyone else. they never leave each other's sides in tsr, go out of their way to be near each other in subsequent episodes, and are together in almost every scene in the finale.

#zutara #zuko x katara #katara #zuko #we love mature and healthy relationships #that work through conflict in healthy ways #this is kind of rambly but i just have a lot of feelings about them okay #my post #atla

[sprout-fics]

I keep thinking about the way people write Ghost as a Dom.

There’s a tendency in the x reader part of this fandom to write CoD men as very dominant, kinky, rough, degrading kind of personas. I like the idea of a dominant character about as much as the next smut writer, but I’ve noticed a tendency for folks to really lean into this, and make characters (mostly Ghost) almost malicious in his sex acts. It sits wrong with me because Simon is a victim of some pretty horrific sexual assault in his original comics, and also someone we see who has compassion and tries extremely hard to distance himself from his traumatic past. 

However, I also feel like there is a way for Ghost to be involved in dominancy and kink without it being completely antithetical to his character. This is my personal interpretation, trying to closely keep in mind Simon’s past, and you are free to disagree with it. However I think the idea of Simon finding kink/dominancy as a way of reclaiming his sexuality after his trauma is deeply fascinating, and worth exploring.

(TW: Discussions of consent violation and sexual trauma)

Ghost experienced sexual assault in his comics tied to the original series, for those of you who may not know. I’ll spare the details, as I’ve been over this several times before. Like many sexual assault survivors, he has nightmares from his time being tortured. It’s pretty easy to conclude from this that Simon has a complicated relationship with sex. I adore soft Simon, I think the pieces of Simon getting emotional during very tender sex are some of my favorites. I also think there’s layers to character interpretation.

It’s not uncommon for survivors of trauma, sexual or otherwise, to try and use kink as an emotional and physical outlet to work through severe emotions. Kink offers a safe, controlled context for sexual trauma survivors to reclaim sexual confidence and comfort. While sexual trauma like assault is a non-consensual seizure of power and dominance, power exchange in a safe, kinky setting can be a consensual, healthy practice to reframe sexual trauma. Kink centers and emphasizes communication and consent which are vital tenets of any healthy sex. (Source)

For Simon, what happened to him was a complete lack of control which led to physical, emotional, and psychological harm. So, for me, it makes complete sense he would approach kink/BDSM practices through the lens of dominance, where the exchange is focused on retaining control rather than the surrender of control. Personally, I think Simon would be very very hard pressed to ever be a sub, and would only consider it with someone who he trusts with not just his life, but his mental well-being, which for him is a very challenging task.

The idea of Simon being involved in kink related dominancy (Side note, there’s is a difference between someone saying they like to be dominant in bed vs identifying as a ‘Dom’, which I see many many writers make the mistake of) can, to me, be seen as a safe way to explore sex following the events in the comics. Responsible Doms hold consent sacred, and know that partners invest a significant amount of trust in them to keep them safe during kink related activities, sexual or otherwise. It isn’t uncommon for BDSM dynamics to form ‘contracts’ that outline things that are completely off the table. Safewords are an absolute must, and must be respected at all times. 

Note: Dominancy =/= Rough, degrading, hair pulling sex. Dominancy can be deeply psychological, in learning your partner’s mannerisms, wants, desires, and most importantly their triggers. 

There’s often very definitively laid out boundaries between partners, and it goes both ways. Ex: you may not like being called degrading names. For Simon (In my personal opinion) I think this involves a refusal to bottom, being restrained, and other things that may invoke triggers related to his trauma. A lot of concepts revolving around BDSM ( (SSC) Safe, Sane, Consensual / (RACK) Risk-Aware Sexual Kink) emphasize and hold accountability for both partners to communicate clearly with each other and respect these clearly set boundaries while being aware of the acts they are involved in. 

I think this sense of rules, consent, guidelines, contracts, and boundaries of how to participate in kink is fairly relieving for Simon. It provides a clear framework of how to approach his partners and ensure both their safety and his own. I feel like Simon is very hesitant about the idea of dominance, because he often fears perpetuating behaviors his abusers committed against him. So this covenant of etiquette towards partners provides a much needed structure for him to work in. If he’s a man of routine (which personally, I like to think so. He’s in the military, which tends to do that to you) and it is deeply relieving for him, because it acts almost like a boundary that prevents him from abusing his partners. So Simon doing research into BDSM/Kink etiquette is totally feasible in my mind, especially when we take into a concept of him using largely agreed upon guidelines and suggestions to allow him space to reclaim his sexuality without it turning into a victim to abuser scenario. (There’s also room to be explored regarding Ghost and protocol based BDSM dynamics within this same vein, but that’s a different essay)

(Another side note: It is easy for abusers to take advantage of victims by concealing themself behind being a Dom. However, this is why concepts such as contracts, SSC, and RACK exist, to help mitigate instances of this. If you are interested in these types of dynamics, please please do some responsible research to know how to spot people like this)

There’s a lot of nuance to this idea. However, I have seen some AMAZING fics explore this concept of Simon being a responsible Dom while also keeping in mind he is a deeply complicated person with a complex history. Simon’s sexual assault does not define his character, but it is an important facet to it considering that the trauma of his torture formed him into the character we are introduced to- a man who burned his past but continues to carry it with him in the form of a mask designed to separate himself from others. 

Here’s some fic recs that explore or touch on this topic, thanks for reading:

Surviving You - WhisperedWords12: SoapGhost BDSM AU that provides a great understanding of consensual dynamics, contracts, consent, subdrop/domdrop, and touches on how irresponsible dominant partners can leave lasting, scarring impressions on their partners

Exfilitration - Vedettare: Similar concept in that Ghost assists Soap through subdrop, and realizes he may be poorly handling the way he engages in his and Soap’s dynamic, which he tries to rectify (Ongoing)

Mine and Yours - Artemis_Neardos: Again, SoapGhost, simultaneously explores Ghost as a Dom as well as his relationship with his trauma, and does a very good job doing so. Bonus: Dom/Sub AleRudy. This series involves under negotiated kink at the beginning, which improves later. Mind the tags

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in this area. I am relaying things I have learned. I encourage you, if you are interested, to do your own research and read critically the things that are available to you. Never engage with partners who do not respect your consent

#simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw2022

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l six

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: Joel opens up to you about a very traumatic loss; he makes a confession about his feelings towards you; you make a confession of your own and it leads to something more.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. fluff, infidelity, Joel and reader are having a full blown affair at this point, angst, talks of child loss (Sarah), lots of feelings come to the surface, two idiots realize they are in love. SMUT. oral sex (m receiving), size mention bc i will always be convinced our man is packing) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up pls), reader discovers she likes praise, creampie.

word count: 8.4k

August 2024

The next two and a half weeks that had passed by had done so without major incident, but things had taken a somewhat complicated turn.

You and Joel still manage to see one another a handful of times even with the exhausting amount of hours he’s been putting into his patrol duties, though it isn’t nearly as often as either of you wanted or would have preferred. But there was no other choice.

After numerous sightings of a group of potential raiders earlier on in the month, Tommy had no choice but to assign every last competent, able bodied patrol person, including himself, to work double shifts to ensure the safety and security of Jackson. He and Joel had come across the remnants of a campsite just about fifteen miles south of the settlement and they worried the group was hiding out, planning a violent, ambush attack on the community when it was least expected. Tommy had done his absolute best to keep the word from spreading throughout the commune to avoid causing a panic, but he found himself having to fess up when people went up to him and all but furiously demanded to know the truth—the real reason behind why their loved ones were now being asked to be on the other side of wall twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

Joel, who you’d come to learn is one of the sharpest and strongest shooters out of everybody in Jackson besides his younger brother, reluctantly took on the role of lead patrolman. He had been assigned an absurd amount of double shifts to work, including the overnight routes, making it almost impossible for you to see each other. You’d understood he had no choice but to comply, but still—that didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. Both of you tried to make the very best of what little time you managed to get together, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. As if not being able to see Joel wasn’t agonizing enough for you, the fact that he was out on the other side of the wall scared the hell out of you. The only way to keep yourself from losing your goddamn mind was to distract yourself.

You did everything that you could to keep your mind off Joel being out there. Burying yourself deeply into your work helped for the most part.

Besides that, Joel had asked you, as a favor to him, to keep a watchful eye on Ellie in light of his absence. You’d spend most of the day with her in the stables, you would have lunch with her in the mess hall along with Dina, and in the evening, you would go home and make dinner early enough to fix an extra plate of food for her so she had a nutritious homemade meal to enjoy instead of two decades old canned ravioli. You would take it over to her place and drop it off before Luke came home from the clinic. Ellie waited until it was late in the evening and he was asleep to return the plate back to you, and the two of you would take a lengthy, late night stroll through the town, keeping each other company for a while before heading off to bed. She hadn’t seemed to be all too concerned about Joel, but then again, Ellie had known better than you did that he could take care of himself out there just fine. If anything, you spending so much time with her had been more for your benefit than hers, and you started to suspect that just like Joel had asked you to keep an eye on Ellie, he had also asked her to keep an eye on you too. After all, you had made it abundantly clear to him that you were nervous about him being out on patrol while there was a possible threat looming in the shadows.

By the time the middle of August came around, no additional traces of the group had been found—they seemed to have vanished into thin air, causing a wave of relief to sweep through the town. Tommy and Maria finally decided to ease up and end the double shift assignments, allowing every single patrolman and woman to return to their normally scheduled work rotations. Joel went back to his usual early morning and afternoon patrol hours, which meant that the both of you could resume your clandestine meetings out behind the barn underneath the stars.

“I missed you,” you say, sighing out contentedly as you lean back against him.

You and Joel are sitting out on the large, vacant patch of field behind the barn, his soft, green flannel blanket acting as a barrier between your bodies and the itchiness of the grass the animals would graze on during the day. You’re nestled in between his long legs, your back against his warm chest as the two of you share the delicious, ripe peach he’d brought along with him as a surprise for you.

“Mm, probably not as much as I was missin’ you, sweet girl,” Joel replies with a hum before taking a bite of the fruit. Noticing there’s only a couple bites of it left, he reaches his arm around and holds it out for you, his bulging bicep straining against the sleeve of his faded black t-shirt. “Here, darlin’. Want you to go on and have the rest.”

“These will be out of season in a couple of months.” Giving a sad little pout to nobody in particular, you sigh again and sink your teeth into the peach. Through a small mouthful, you realize, “Who knows when we’ll ever get peaches around here again.”

Joel’s lips meet the spot on your neck right behind your ear and you feel him grin. “S’alright with me. I’ve got my sweet, perfect little peach right here. And I’ve got her all year round.”

You playfully elbow him in his chest. After polishing off the rest of the peach, you lick off the pit and toss it out into the distance.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to litter,” he teases.

“It’s biodegradable,” you retort with a tiny laugh as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and gaze up, admiring the stars that sprinkle the velvet night skies. “Or at least, I think it is. Come to think of it, I never paid much attention in life science when I was in FEDRA school. It was my least favorite subject.”

You gather your hair in your hand, bringing it over your shoulder to keep it out of Joel’s face. 

“Mm,” he whispers, licking his lips as his eyes fall to the delicate flesh of your exposed neck. He ghosts his mouth over your pulse point and his warm breath fans against your cool skin, prompting your eyes to flutter closed. “Just temptin’ me on purpose now, ain’t you, baby?”

“I would never do such a thing,” you object in an innocent tone, and he immediately clocks the smirk behind it. A comfortable silence falls over the both of you and while you’d normally welcome the peaceful, tranquil moment with him, tonight it feels impossible. You had gone so long without Joel over the last couple of weeks—at least, it had certainly felt long—and you realize one of things you’d missed most about him was the sound of his voice. “Ask me a question, Joel.”

“What kinda question can I ask, darlin’?”

Feeling brave, you offer, “You can ask me anything you want. No limits.”

Humming curiously to himself, he tries to think of something he hasn’t asked you before. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really, Joel?” You snort, trying to mask your laughter as he rests his chin on your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin as he presses his cheek against yours. “I just told you that you can ask me anything you want and that’s your question? What’s my favorite color?”

“Yeah,” he answers, simply. “I wanna know what it is.”

He turns his head, lifting it off your shoulder to brush a gentle kiss to your temple. Joel could not, for the life of him, even remember the last time he’d shared this kind of physical tenderness with anybody. Forehead kisses, holding your hand, all sorts of little tokens of affection he didn’t think he could still be capable of giving to someone came to him so naturally with you. You had brought out an entirely different side of him, one that had been buried beneath his rough exterior for well over two decades, and the part that Joel still can’t quite wrap his own head around is that you’d done it with such ease. He’d go as far as to say that you had done it without even trying.

“So?” Joel prompts you. “What is it?”

“It’s brown,” you answer. 

“Brown? Why brown?”

“Because. It’s earthy, it’s warm—and your eyes are brown,” you state, grinning to yourself as you feel his loud laugh rumble through his chest and against your back. “What about you? I mean that’s if Joel Miller even has a favorite color,” you giggle teasingly, placing a hand on one of his denim clad legs. You then add, “Actually, I’m kind of curious now. Do you have a favorite color, Joel?”

Joel hesitates, momentarily holding onto his answer.

“I do. It’s purple,” he finally responds after a brief bout of silence. “Purple’s my favorite color.”

“Purple,” you repeat after him, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. “Really?”

Joel chuckles. “What? That weird or somethin’?”

“Uh, sort of. For one, you just don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would have a favorite color in the first place—and even if you’d told me you did, I would have never in a million years guessed that it was purple,” you admit, sheepishly. You trace a small circle around his knee with your finger and curiously ask him, “Why is purple your favorite color?”

“‘Cause. That’s my daughter’s favorite color.”

You scoff playfully. “Come on, Joel. Ellie’s favorite color sure as hell isn’t purple. Her favorite color is green. But red’s a close second.”

When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him despite being in such close proximity. 

“I ain’t talkin’ about Ellie.”

At first, it doesn’t quite register, but after a moment of processing, the pieces click together in your mind. Joel has another daughter.

Your smile vanishes and you slowly turn around between his legs to face him. Looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, you utter, “What?”

“Her name was Sarah,” he confesses, softly. 

Was. 

Your throat dries at his use of past tense.

Because you know exactly what that means. 

Opening your mouth to speak, words fail you and you close it. You suddenly remember the way he would tap dance around certain details of his first life in Texas. Whenever he would speak about his life before the outbreak, he would be cautious, careful to watch himself and his words. You’d known Joel had been keeping something from you, something he wasn’t ready to disclose to you for one reason or another—but never would you have guessed that him having a daughter would be the secret he had been hiding.

By now, you’ve turned your body around and you kneel in front of him, sitting back onto your heels. Not wanting to push him too hard or too fast, you clasp your hands together in your lap and wait silently—patiently—for him to continue when he’s ready.

“Sarah’s favorite color was purple. She’d wear it all the time. Her backpack, her school supplies, they all had to be purple or she wouldn’t use them. When she was nine years old, she begged me to paint the walls of her bedroom purple. One day, I took her to Home Depot after school to look at all the different shades.” He laughs, musing, “Didn’t know there could be so goddamn many of them. Anyhow, I told her I’d think ‘bout it. I went back to the store the next day while she was at school, bought a couple cans of the lavender shade I knew she’d like the best and by the time she got home, I had it all painted for her,” he explains, a sadness glazing over the fondness of the memory. “She loved purple. It was the color of the t-shirt she was wearin’ the last time we were together on the night of the outbreak.”

Your heart sinks. “Joel, you don’t have to tell me—”

“S’alright, peach. I wanna tell you ‘bout her,” Joel assures you, reaching out for your hand and taking it in his own. “I trust you, baby. Trust you more than enough to tell you ‘bout Sarah.”

Nodding, you lace his fingers together with your own. 

“I was never married,” he starts to say, knowing whether or not he’d also had a wife before the world ended would be a question on your mind—that’s if it wasn’t already. “I was never with Sarah’s mom. I met her in high school and we’d been friends up through senior year of college. We started to date then, but after a year, we realized we weren’t a good fit together. We broke up and a couple months later, we found out she was pregnant with Sarah. Her mom and me, well we both made an agreement to co-parent her as best as we could. Just a few months shy of our daughter’s first birthday, she realized she couldn’t handle raisin’ a child at our age. I tried real hard to convince her to stick around and keep tryin’ but I couldn’t get her to stay. She bailed out on me, but the worst part of it was that she bailed out on Sarah.”

He stops for a moment and you give his hand a gentle, but firm, encouraging squeeze.

“As if bein’ a father to a baby girl didn’t scare the shit of me, being a single father made it all feel so much scarier, y’know? I was young, in my early twenties. I was always workin’ so damn much, tryin’ to build my construction business with Tommy. Now I had this tiny little person to take care of, and I honestly didn’t know how the fuck I was gonna do it.” Joel pauses, his sixth sense detecting that your knees have started hurting from the position you’re in. He closes his legs together and pulls you to sit on his lap. “It wasn’t easy, and I probably made a lot more mistakes than I’d like to admit. But somehow, I made it work and it turned out alright. Sarah was my best friend in the whole entire world. Hell, I loved her more than fuckin’ life itself. She could be a handful, but she was perfect in every single way. She was my sweet little butterfly, my ray of sunshine on even the darkest of days.”

Swallowing harshly, you ask, “What happened to her, Joel?”

Joel sighs, resting a hand on your bare thigh. His fingers skim the scalloped hem of your floral shorts. “It was the first night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out of Austin. Me, Sarah, and Tommy. We didn’t know where the hell we were gonna go or what we were gonna do, but we just needed to get far away from the city. We got separated at one point when our pickup truck got into an awful wreck. I had Sarah in my arms ‘cause she couldn’t walk. She’d broken her ankle in the crash. Tommy told me to get her to the river where she’d be safer, said he’d find his way over there to meet us.”

Your heart begins to pound. Part of you almost doesn’t want to hear how his story is going to end—because in a way, you already know how it’s going to end. But if Joel is telling you about Sarah, it’s for a reason. He’s opening up to you, the way you’ve opened up to him. He’s sharing his heartbreaking loss because he trusts you—and Joel Miller doesn’t trust anyone that’s not his family.

Draping an arm around his shoulders, your fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck as you anxiously wait for him to recount the event that follows next, the event that will surely shatter your heart into pieces.

“The streets were crawlin’ with infected. One caught us in its sights and chased after us. Tried to dodge it through a buildin’ but it followed us, runnin’ us out into a field just a mile from the river. I didn’t think we were gonna make it—then, a soldier came outta nowhere and shot it dead. It felt like some kinda fuckin’ miracle. I thought we were lucky. I thought we were gonna get some help.” His voice grows hoarse, thickening with emotions he’s not too sure he can hold back this time. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was given the order by his command to kill us both, even though we weren’t sick. I tried tellin’ him over and over we weren’t infected, but it didn’t matter. He shot at us. He grazed me in my side, but Sarah—he got her. Got her multiple times. I was foolish enough to think it hadn’t been fatal. I tried gettin’ her up, begged Tommy to help me—but it was useless. Sarah died in my arms. Took her very last breath in some field outside of Austin.”

“God,” you whisper shakily, a sharp, painful ache shooting through your chest at the thought of him cradling his daughter’s lifeless body in his arms, her purple shirt soaked in crimson. “Joel, I don’t—I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Willing yourself to keep it together for his sake, you hold the back of his neck in your hand, fingers coaxing him to look up and meet your gaze.

“After that, I just didn’t see any point in carryin’ on anymore. I’d lost the most important thing in the fuckin’ world to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness now that my little ray of sunshine was gone. So, a couple nights later, I picked up my gun and tried to end my own life,” he confesses. Even though it’s been over twenty years, traces of shame still linger behind. “Put the barrel of a pistol to my temple. Told myself it was what I wanted to do and I pulled the trigger.”

Without thinking, you reach towards the scar on his right temple with your opposite hand, the one you’d noticed for the first time before he had kissed you in Ranger’s stall. You lightly brush your fingertips over the jagged, raised patch of skin. You’d wanted to ask him about it on several different occasions, but never had the courage to actually do it. Now that you know he’d gotten it from his own hand, it just makes the entire thing all that much more heart wrenching.

“M’sure you’ve guessed it by now, but I missed. I flinched and I missed. For twenty fuckin’ years, all I could do was wish I hadn’t missed. Spent a long time hatin’ myself for missin’ what should’ve been the easiest goddamn shot of my entire life. Then, Ellie came along.” Joel moves his hand, gingerly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “And not long after her, I met you, sweet girl. The two of you came at me outta nowhere.” He can’t help but chuckle, remembering his first encounter with Ellie, the way she had flown at him with her switchblade clutched in hand only to end up thrown against the wall. “You both came outta left fuckin’ field and brought out sides of me I thought had been dead and buried for years now. You and her, you mean more to me than I can fuckin’ explain. You’re the most important things in the world to me now.”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his declaration. It’s not like you didn’t know Joel cared about you. Of course you know that. But the extent to which he did had been something of a mystery, at least up until this very moment.

“I didn’t know I could feel this way ‘bout anyone again,” Joel admits. He slides his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “Openin’ up my heart to Ellie, that was one thing. But openin’ it up to you? That’s been somethin’ else, peach. I don’t think you even realize the hold you’ve got over me and my heart. What really fuckin’ gets me is that you don’t even gotta try. All you gotta do is look at me with those eyes and give me that pretty smile of yours, and I’m fuckin’ done for. You’ve got me wrapped all the way around your little finger and then back again, baby. Y’need to know that I’d do just ‘bout fuckin’ anythin’ for you. You understand that?”

You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Joel,” you stammer his name, your nerve endings feeling like they’ve been lit on fire. “You really need to stop talking like that.”

“Why’s that?”

You don’t even think—you just blurt the words out before you can stop them.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The tables turn and it’s now Joel who is at a complete loss for words.

Embarrassed by your own admission, you begin to ramble nervously. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous. We haven’t known each other long, but I can’t help it. And maybe it’s for the best if you know where I stand and how I feel. You still have time to back out of this—”

Still holding your chin, Joel carefully brings your face toward his, silencing you by slotting his lips to yours. He moves to cup the side of your face in his palm, forgetting about any kind of softness as he greedily licks into your mouth. He’s kissed you plenty of times before and you thought you knew all of his kisses well enough by now, but you’d been wrong. This one is different from all the rest. His lips move against yours in a possessive manner, but not the kind of possessive you’re used with Luke. No, with Joel, it isn’t a possessive stemming from control and abuse, rather, it’s out of pure need, want, and desire. Even as his mouth devours yours, there’s still a sweet, loving tenderness to it.

“Joel,” you whimper against him. “I—”

You falter, unable to say those three words. There’s something holding you back—maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s knowing that once you say them, you can’t take them back. Not that you would. But it’s a big step, and you’re not quite ready to say it, even if it is how you feel.

And he feels the same.

He deepens the embrace.

I love you.

Joel might not be ready to say it either, but he hopes the way he’s holding you and swelling your lips with his puts your mind at ease and reassures you that you’re not the only one who’s falling.

You shift yourself in his lap, moving to straddle him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your mouths remain fused to one another. He reaches and grabs for every single part of you that he can, running his hands all over you from your shoulders down to your hips, dragging lower until they’re unabashedly cupping the delicious curves of your ass. You whimper in his mouth again and the moment your lips part, his tongue takes advantage, darting inside to start the heated, unhinged dance with your own.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers curling around tight around fistfuls of his t-shirt in an attempt, and a very desperate one at that, to keep yourself planted on the ground. You hold on trying to keep yourself tethered to planet earth, but with the way his searing hot mouth moves with yours in perfect unison, it’s impossible. You’re free falling without a safety net, and you don’t even care. 

Seating yourself completely on his lap, you feel the bulge of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans and the wetness pools between your thighs.

Letting go of his shirt, you reach around him and bury your fingers in his curls, lightly tipping his head back as your tongue explores his mouth like it’s the first time all over again. Joel tastes like the sweet fruit you’d shared, a strange mix when combined with the mint from his toothpaste. But there’s something else he tastes like and you’ve tasted it several times before, however even after all this time, you still can’t figure out what it could be. It tastes like Joel. That’s the only way you can think of to describe it. It just tastes like Joel and it’s addicting and you want it on your lips for the rest of your life.

After a minute, you and Joel finally force yourselves apart, your lungs and his begging for oxygen. 

“Joel,” you choke his name between heavy pants for air.

“Baby.” He’s about as breathless as you are, possibly even more. “Baby, please. I’ve gotta have you,” he pleads, hands now splayed on the small of your back. “Please. I fuckin’ need you. Or else m’gonna lose my goddamn fuckin’ mind.”

“Barn,” you rasp out, releasing your grip on his hair. 

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows knit together. “Barn?”

“Barn,” you repeat as you climb off of him.

You’re unsteady—incredibly unsteady. Knees wobbling, legs trembling and feeling like they’re seconds away from giving out underneath you. But you hold a hand out to Joel, exhaling a tiny, labored grunt as you help him up off the ground. Grabbing his blanket, you give it a shake before taking his hand in yours and leading him around to the front of the barn. Dropping his hand, you use both of yours to slide one of the double doors open an inch or two and take a peek inside to make sure the coast is clear. You then slide the door open a bit further, just wide enough for you and Joel to slip inside. 

“Wait a minute,” he chuckles as he watches you slide the door closed. “How’d y’know it would be unlocked?”

“I didn’t know it would be unlocked. I was just hoping we’d get lucky,” you admit, beckoning him for him to follow you. “Come on.”

Through various cracks and gaps and open windows, enough moonlight filters into the barn, shining a decent amount of light into the structure—enough so that it’s not pitch black and you two are left stumbling around in complete darkness.

Joel glances around. The last time he’d been inside the barn was back in June for the summer party. He remembered it having been cleaned and cleared out for the event and now, two months later, it’s packed to the rafters with countless bales of hay. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But as he walks, piles of loose dried grass and herbs crunch underneath his boots and he remarks, “There’s fuckin’ hay everywhere, darlin’.”

“Um, yeah. What else do you keep in a barn?” you jeer lightly, earning yourself a small scoff from him. “Hey, at least they don’t keep sheep and other livestock in here, Joel. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Joel snorts, masking his laughter at the thought of walking into a barn full of animals instead of an absurd amount of hay. “Yeah, guess that’s fair enough,” he concedes. “Might kill the mood if that were the case.”

You lead him over towards one of the far corners of the barn, your eyes falling to a large, almost bed sized pile of loose hay. Draping the blanket over it, you stand upright and then freeze, your body flooding with nerves once you realize what’s inevitably about to happen between you and Joel.

You hadn’t done anything with him since the night he’d pleasured you out on his front porch. Of course you wanted more, so much more, but that doesn’t make you any less nervous. You’re so much younger, hardly have any experience—you’ve only ever been with one man, and even then, it hardly counts. It’s been such a long time since you’d found sex something you wanted, something you enjoyed. Whenever Luke touches you, it makes your skin crawl, but when Joel Miller touches you?

It sets you ablaze, leaves you needing more of it. Of him.

Part of you wonders if your touch makes him feel the same. What if it doesn’t?

His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you exhale the breath you’d been holding shakily.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Joel murmurs softly into your hair, sensing your pensiveness. 

“I’m just really nervous,” you blurt out.

“S’okay,” he says, quietly. “M’kinda nervous too.”

You’re slightly taken aback. “Really? What are you nervous about?”

Joel rests his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve both crossed a lot of lines already, peach. But this one? S’gonna be the one we can’t come back from,” he tells you. “Might be what seals the deal between us, y’know?”

Slowly, you turn around to face him. “Yeah, I know,” you respond, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. “And I know I should care, but I don’t. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“S’wrong,” he agrees with a tight nod. “But I don’t care either, sweet girl.”

Before you can utter another word about it, Joel crashes his mouth onto yours. He snakes one of his arms around you and lifts the other, cupping the back of your neck as he ravages you with his lips and tongue, kissing you with such urgency, such desperation that it melts you into a whimpering mess in his arms. Your mind is hopelessly lost in a thick, cloudy haze—all you can focus on is breathing him into your lungs like he’s the air you need to stay alive. His hands fall down to the hem of your white camisole and his mouth abandons yours to pull it over your head. He discards it, tossing it over his shoulder somewhere behind him. He then pushes your shorts and underwear down your legs and you kick them off along with your shoes. You’re now standing before him completely naked.

Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you take the hem of his t-shirt and clumsily tug it over his head, eliciting a laugh from him. You throw it somewhere over his shoulder to join yours and your hands eagerly meet his warm, bare chest for the first time. Biting down on your bottom lip, your trembling fingertips brush over several bumps and rough, raised patches of skin that you know have to be his scars. He has so many, and all you want to do is kiss each and every single one of them, but Joel has other ideas. He pulls you into his arms, flush against his chest, and he holds you tightly.

More often than not, Joel feels as if you’re not real—worries that you’re just a perfect, flawless figment of his own imagination. He doesn’t know whether or not you’ve caught onto what he’s been doing, but he steals moments like these whenever he can, moments where he stands there and takes you into his arms and holds you without saying a word.

It’s his own way of reminding himself that not only are you real, but you’re real and you’re his. Joel doesn’t care about the fucking ring on your finger. He doesn’t care that you’re promised to another man. He doesn’t care that he can only hold you in secret, that he can’t walk next you down the streets of Jackson in broad daylight and hold your hand while doing so. He doesn’t get to share a roof or a bed with you and he doesn’t get to join you for dinner at the table every night—maybe this isn’t how he preferred things to be, but he just doesn’t care. 

It doesn’t matter to him.

Nothing matters to him except for one thing.

Your heart belongs to him. It bleeds with his name.

You’re his. You’re all fucking his, and only his, in all the ways that truly matter.

And he is yours. 

Joel chokes out a strained groan as you press your plush lips softly against his neck, your tongue swiping across his pulse point. You firmly suckle his flesh, hard enough to break the tiny blood vessels underneath his skin and once you’ve left your mark, you trail your lips down his neck, eliciting another strangled noise from him. You sweep them over his collarbone, then down the length of his chest, showing each scar you come across with the affection it deserves. Your teeth nip and scrape at the softness of his belly and you quickly discover that it’s one of your favorite parts of him. Lowering yourself to your knees, your nose skims over the trail of dark, coarse hair below his navel and your fingers suggestively skim the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes widen. “You ain’t gotta do that—”

“I already told you, Joel. I want to,” you assure him, your voice low, sexy, filled with a lust for him and only for him. You make yourself comfortable, a challenging feat since you’d overshot the blanket and are now kneeling directly on the itchy, dried grass. It doesn’t matter, though—you’re more than willing to deal with discomfort for him. You place a hand on his hip and peer up at him. Your eyes meet his in the milky white moonlight. “You made me feel good. Please, just let me do the same for you?”

The nod he gives you is so subtle, so quick, that you almost don’t catch it.

He’d grown tense beneath your touch. 

You can’t help but laugh softly—not at him, but at the fact that he doesn’t realize that pleasuring him isn’t a want for you, it’s a need.

Gently, you pat his hip. “Relax, honey,” you encourage him, surprised at how the pet name rolls off your tongue with such natural ease.

Your hands reach for the button of his jeans and you swiftly undo it, then tug at his zipper. You start pulling the denim down his legs. Joel helps you, kicking off his worn, black leather boots before stepping out of his jeans, kicking the article of clothing off to the side. Heart racing in anticipation, you slide his dark boxer briefs down his legs, but stop short, breath hitching the second you feast your eyes on his cock. You’ve felt him through his clothes before, knew he was well endowed, but you’re still shocked to see just how big he really is. The mere thought of his hard, thick length filling you up and stretching your cunt makes your entire body ache with need. You can’t be certain how he’ll fit, but truth be told, he could tear you in half and you would thank him for it. 

Joel draws in a quick, sharp breath when he feels your small hand wrap around his base. Just as fast as he’d breathed it in, it’s knocked back out of his lungs when your other hand joins in and you run your fingertips along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He twitches in your hands—you’ve hardly touched him, haven’t even put your mouth on him, and he’s already teetering on the edge.

“Christ, baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, I hope y’know that,” Joel croaks, tilting his head back to look up at the rafters as he silently wills himself not to explode too soon. His hips involuntarily jerk forward as you lick his tip, collecting his leaking precome on your tongue before wrapping your soft lips around it. Another loud, ragged groan tears from the back of his throat as you take him in slowly, inch by inch, further into your warm, wet mouth. Your own moaning around him causes a vibrating sensation, making it harder for Joel to keep himself from spilling into your mouth.

“Fuck, peach,” he curses, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat. He’s more than a mouthful for you, but you accept the challenge with eagerness and take him in further, gagging around him as drool dribbles down the sides of your chin. You, the same woman who just moments ago had said she was nervous about being intimate with him—whoever that woman had been, she was long fucking gone.

Joel’s eyes flit down and he sinks his teeth hard into his lower lip. He can see your silhouette as you work him with that pretty little mouth of yours. One glance is all he can handle before he’s squeezing his eyes shut, the pressure building in his lower abdomen and already dangerously close to reaching its peak. If Joel so much as looks at you again, he’ll come down your throat, and that’s not where he’s planning on finishing tonight.

You bob your head back and forth on his cock, your eyes watering each time he slips past the back of your throat—your cheeks hollow as you suck him greedily, and you alternate between that and stroking his long, thick shaft, your tongue swirling around his head.

Without opening his eyes, Joel reaches down with his hand and cradles the back of your head in his palm. The sounds that fill the barn are nothing short of obscene. His grunts and groans mixed together with the sounds of the moans you’d release in between your wet and sloppy slurping. He forces his eyes open and bravely takes another look at you, his heart slamming painfully against his sternum as you move your head faster, chasing his release as if you’re chasing your own.

“Fuck, baby—wait, stop. Need you to stop.” Joel’s hand leaves the back of your head and he cups your jaw, gently, but firmly, forcing you to release his cock from your mouth with an audible pop. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, not if you keep on like that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” you ask, smirking up at him as you wipe the mixture of his precome and your saliva away from your chin with the back of your hand.

Joel leans over and takes your arms, effortlessly yanking you up to your feet. His hand dives between your thighs to get a feel—to find whether you’re ready to take him or not. He slips two fingers between your soaked folds without so much as a warning, causing you to gasp out and grip his biceps, your fingernails digging into the firm muscle. Joel withdraws his hand from your cunt, admiring the way his digits come back coated with your slick. He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly licks his fingers clean.

That alone nearly makes you come undone, almost makes you melt into a pathetic, whimpering mess at his feet. 

“Joel,” you say his name pleadingly. “Please.”

Sliding his fingers out of his mouth, he steps forwards and curls them around your wrist. “What is it, my sweet little peach? Hm? What do you want?”

“You. I want you,” you answer. You’re quick to correct yourself. “No, I need you. I fucking need you—I need you more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life, Joel.”

Leaning down, Joel skims the tip of his nose against your cheek before bringing it down along your jawline. “Where, darlin’?” he whispers huskily, sending a shiver up your spine. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Your mouth falls open slightly unable to say it. You don’t know why you’re suddenly shy, flustered as if you just hadn’t been down on your knees gagging around his cock.

“Tell me, peach,” he coaxes you gently with another low whisper. “Tell me where you need me. Tell me where you need my cock, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.”

“Inside me.” Blazing heat floods your face. “I need you inside of me—I need you to fuck me. Please, Joel.”

“So polite ‘bout it, too,” he remarks. “What a good girl.”

Though he says it in a teasing manner, his praise nearly makes you collapse.

“You like that,” he realizes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, baby? Y’like it when I call you a good girl?”

“Fuck, I—yes, I do,” you confess.

“C’mere.” Joel wraps an arm around your waist, hand splayed over your back as he lowers you down onto the blanket. He follows suit. You both let out breathy laughs at the way your naked bodies sink down into the pile of hay. Propping himself up with his arm, Joel looks down at you, his smile fading as a serious expression crosses his features. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, finger grazing the silkiness of your cheek. “Y’sure ‘bout this, peach? Ain’t too late to stop.”

Smiling softly, you lift a hand to the side of his face, your fingers stroking his graying beard. “I’ve never been so sure about anything, Joel,” you promise him. “If you could take a peek into my mind, you would see how bad I want this, how bad I need this—how bad I need you. I don’t want to stop.” And you don’t just mean the sex. You don’t any of this to stop—the secret, late night meetings, the stolen kisses, the illicit affair. “I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you, Joel.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Joel reaches down between your bodies, gripping his base, pumping his throbbing cock in his fist before lining himself up at your sopping entrance. Adrenaline courses through your veins—every nerve ending in your body is going up in flames. You spread your legs wider for him, hoping he’ll understand the nonverbal cue. He does. He begins to ease himself into your cunt and you hook a leg around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. The barn fills with the sound of his grunt and your loud cry at the initial stretch. He sinks his cock further into you until he bottoms out and you cry out again, feeling a delicious burning sensation as he cradles his hips between your thighs.

“M’gonna need you to relax a little sweetheart,” he whispers gently, ceasing his movements to give your body a chance to adjust to him. Joel takes advantage of having you pinned underneath him with your head thrown back and his lips latch onto your neck, hungrily. He fervently kisses his way down the column of your throat, nips his way to your collarbone—but unlike you, he’s careful to do so without leaving any kind of mark behind. He would give anything to have the freedom to leave traces of his loving all over you. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and the way he’s buried inside you to the hilt that brings out the primal in him, but Joel wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around Jackson covered in his love bites. He wants everyone to know he’s the one who’d left them behind, needs them to understand that you’re his. But that isn’t possible. Joel lifts his head from the hollow of your neck and nibbles lightly at your chin. “You alright, baby?”

Forcing your eyes open, you lift your head and bring yourself to look at him. At first, you feel discomfort, but after a minute, your body finally relaxes around him and it subsides. It’s replaced with the burning desire to feel more of him. The pretty glow coming in from outside the barn illuminates his face and you smile. “I’m better than alright. I’m perfect,” you assure him. You place a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heart thrum hard against your fingertips. “This is perfect.”

Joel kisses the tip of your nose. He slides out of you slowly, then right back into you in an experimental thrust that brings your body off the blanket, your back arching in sheer pleasure. It’s such a deliciously tight fit, and he almost can’t believe how fucking good it feels to be sheathed in your taut heat. He drops his head, taking your breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple as he bucks his hips once more. He’s being careful. Too careful.

“Joel—I need you to move,” you gasp. You drag a hand down his chest and over his soft stomach, letting your fingernails rake lightly over his flushed skin. It’s warm to the touch, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Joel, please. Fuck me.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to tell him twice.

Joel releases the pebbled flesh from his mouth with a loud, lewd pop. He pulls his cock out of your dribbling pussy, then slams back into you with such force that he places a hand on the crown of your head, keeping you in place underneath him on the blanket. You wrap your own leg around him, locking your ankles together, your heels digging into the firm curve of his ass. You lift your hips just as he rolls his own right into them. The new angle gives Joel the opportunity to fuck you even deeper and he hits the sensitive, spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold onto him, moans you’ve never heard come out of your own mouth before ringing in your ears and in his. He starts picking up his pace.

“Baby.” He’s breathless and speaks between every snap of his hips. “Fuck, y’feel s’good—s’tight around me—”

“Don’t stop, Joel. God, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead him, your finger burying themselves in his hair. “Keep going, just like that—fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me—”

You bite down on your bottom lip, adoring how Joel squeezes his dark eyes shut each and every single time the head of his cock brushes that one particularly deep spot inside of you. Knowing that you and your body has this kind of an effect on him, it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve spent the last couple of years allowing a pathetic excuse of a man—if one could even call him that—pick on you, say things about your body, and make you feel like your inability to conceive a child made you defective. Worthless, even. And here’s a real man, one who makes you feel beautiful with the way he talks to you, the way he kisses you, touches you, and fucks you. You’re not perfect by any means, but Joel Miller makes you feel what your own husband doesn’t.

He makes you feel like you’re enough. More than enough.

The barn fills with a combination of moaning, panting, and the sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin.

Glancing down at you, Joel shakes his head and warns, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, baby. M’so goddamn close.”

An unexpected wave of courage washes over you. Planting your hands firmly on his chest, you take him by complete surprise and slide out from underneath him. A small grunt escapes him as you push him onto his back. Amused, you can’t help but giggle at the shocked expression on his face as you guide him to lie down on the flannel blanket. Eager to see his reaction, you keep your eyes trained on his face as you straddle his lap. You grip the base of his cock in your hand and then slowly sink down onto him, your cunt greedily squeezing him as you slide down until you’re fully seated.

Joel’s jaw falls slack. It’s the most stunning sight he’s ever seen.

You, completely naked on top of him, your pouty lips plump and swollen from his kisses. Your smooth, supple skin glows in the moonlight shining through the open window behind you. All while every inch of Joel’s cock was buried deep inside of you, head nudging at your cervix. Eyes glimmering devilishly, the sexiest little smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Like what you see?”

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

You’ve rendered him speechless. 

Grabbing his hands in yours, you guide them to your hips. His blood roars in his ears and his fingers dig into the pillowy soft flesh, holding on as you begin to rock them back and forth. You throw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulder. The friction of your clit against his pelvis heightens your pleasure. Joel had thought he would be the one to topple over the edge first, but he’d been wrong.

Eyes pinching shut, you start bouncing yourself on his cock, your desperation mounting. You feel the tension between your hips coiling back tightly, ready to snap forward.

“Fuck, Joel—I’m gonna—I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ come for me, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers digging even harder into your hips. One of his hands abandons your side and he reaches up and gently takes your slackened jaw in the palm of his hand. He coaxes you to look down at him. “Need you to be a good girl and look at me, peach,” he instructs you, slipping his thumb between your parted lips. “Need to see that pretty face of yours when you come all over my cock, sweetheart.”

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck!”

Crying out, you unravel and fall apart all over him, the ecstasy blurring the edges of your vision. 

It doesn’t take Joel much longer to follow. He lets out a low, guttural growl, choking out a string of profanities as he slams you down onto his lap and holds you in place, spurts of warm come coating your velvet walls. Your pussy squeezes him, draining him of every last drop.

You collapse forward onto him in a sweaty, whimpering mess and he wraps his arms around you. With him still inside you, you both lay there and try to catch your breaths as the high slowly but surely begins to wear off.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls out of you and he shifts your bodies, moving you so you’re now laying beside him. Tucking you against his side, he slides his arm around your shoulders and pulls you even closer. His other hand finds one of yours and he takes it, bringing them both to rest on his chest.

“You alright?” he asks you, lacing his fingers together with yours.

“I’m great,” you answer him tiredly, prompting him to chuckle. “What about you?”

Joel strokes at your hair. “Never been better, sweet girl.”

You groan. “Joel, don’t do that,” you mumble into his shoulder. “You’re going to put me right to sleep.”

He laughs again. “We’ve still got a bit more time, y’know. If you’re tired, you can take a quick nap. I can wake you up in ‘bout an hour when it’s time to head home.”

“No, that’s okay,” you decline the offer, worried he would accidentally fall asleep too. “I really wish we could sleep together—I mean, actually sleep together. In an actual bed. Not having to worry about anything. Just like normal couples do.”

“Well, we ain’t exactly a normal couple, darlin’.”

“No, we’re definitely not,” you murmur. You don’t even realize how sad you’d sounded until you feel Joel give your shoulders a comforting squeeze. 

Neither of you say anything else about it as you spend the next hour laying there, tangled up in each other’s embrace, waiting until it was time to go your separate ways.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller series #joel miller story #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fic: a safe haven #fic: ash

[ushiromiya]

(madoka magica / rebellion spoilers below. TW: suicide and controlling behavior)

I don't know the direction in which walpurgisnacht rising will take homura's character but I can say with confidence that from at least where rebellion left off that I truly believe that homura made the decision that she felt was the most correct one even if it meant she had to become a monster in the eyes of every person that loved her. she felt that if things were left in the way the law of the cycle was currently running things that it was inevitable that kyubey would eventually capture madoka in her goddess form, study her, and use her to as a source for mass amounts of energy at the suffering of herself, the others within the law of the cycle, and magical girls at large again. this is something he explains very clearly when talking to homura before her transformation into homulilly.

I get so exhausted when I see people try characterize homura as an actually evil person with completely selfish desires and no regard for others. all of her actions, while not explicitly explained outright, when looked at closely always indicate that she does things out of her care for the other girls but feels like she bears the burden of having to do it alone because she believes she's the only one who doesn't let her emotions get in the way of protecting madoka and the others from kyubey and sometimes each other.

I will always use the scenes of her interactions with mami and sayaka in rebellion as huge examples of this. she has no reason not to kill them if she's a completely selfish and unemphatic person that only cares about madoka and no one else when given many opportunities to do so. I also don't personally think she keeps them around JUST because of madoka's happiness either. she very easily could have suppressed their roles in madoka's life with the world rewrite and clearly choose not to. I believe her mocking sayaka and acting in a clearly "evil" manner is deliberate acting on her part to frame herself as a villain. she might believe this would her actions more palatable and will create distance between herself and everyone else to protect them as well as allow her to assert more control in this situation. it is further emphasized how she truly feels with imagery displayed in homura's new world around herself (shoes abandoned on the side of a building to potentially indicate suicidal ideation, a half moon alluding to homura feeling unfulfilled and unhappy with this decision, her dancing around happily before stopping and slowly falling off the cliff side with a similar implication as the shoes).

homura's relationship with the others is incredibly complicated but she cares for them deeply too as they are also people she considers friends, she just had a particularly strong attachment to madoka. we don't get to see as many instances of her interacting with them as we do them interacting with each other as we are unfortunately only really privy to homura's life after she began looping for the most part but we can see it in the way she has expresses concern and distress for them in moments where she believes they are in real, tangible danger of being hurt (she's winces and tries to turn away when aiming for mami's leg and screams out when she believes mami is about to be truly harmed after their gun fight, which neither ever had the real intention of hitting one another with any of those bullets in the first place). her entire witch's labyrinth is one where everyone is happy and gets the lives they desire. why would her labyrinth, which is meant to reflect in-part her inner feelings and desires, appear that way if she didn't truly want that for everyone?

rebellion is so compelling to me for all of this and so much more!! (I could write a whole other post on the way it presents it's freedom with danger vs control with safety question at the end of the film) she is a girl who has repeatedly suffered incredibly traumatizing events and longs for a world where the person she loves and the friends she considers dear are safe. homura is not really the devil, but she wants to appear to be because being the devil would be easier than being a human being in these circumstances.

#I “joke” that i'm a homura apologist but like for real I am LOL #homura's actions aren't holy and good #but I don't believe they are evil either and that's kind of the point #anyway can you tell i've watched this movie like 10+ times #madoka magica #homura akemi #madoka magica rebellion #walpurgisnacht rising #homu #letters from rokkenjima

[lakesbian]

i have had like 10 friends rec worm to me but nobody’s given me a good like, gist of its vibe and what its abt because ‘its best blind’, could u please give a like brief summary and vibe check of it �� it’s so long i dont wanna try and invest that much time without knowing much abt it

so, worm is a 1.7 million word long webserial written in 2010. 1.7 million words seems like a lot, but it was also written over a relatively short period of time, which means the writing style is very easy to parse--the ideas aren't without complexity, but the language itself isn't intimidatingly dense. you can get through it at a very decent pace. i agree with your friends that there are vast portions of worm that hit best when you're unspoiled, but the thing is that worm is long enough that giving you the basic plot pitch is in no way spoilers for any of the things that i wouldn't want to see spoiled for someone. i'm actually kind of baffled they're not telling you Any Thing, because it is in my estimation one of the best books i've ever read, but it also Needs a briefing before you get into it for like five different reasons. which i will now provide. i swear to god this is brief by my standards it's just that i am very thorough

worm is a story about superheroes and supervillains, set in a world where superpowers are traumagenic--rather than appearing randomly or innately, some people gain powers after a traumatizing event happens to them. the protagonist is taylor hebert, a 15yo girl who has the power to control insects and desperately wants to be a superhero. and then accidentally finds herself scouted by a team of teenage villains instead. who's to say how she's going to react to all that!

one of the most compelling things about worm is that the superpowers in it serve as visceral, hyper-literal metaphors for the trauma and traumatized coping mechanisms of the characters with those powers. each power is incredibly specific and thematically relevant to the person who has it, and it's incredibly interesting and evocative. it feels so natural and well-done that it comes off like how superpowers are just meant to be written.

the fact that superpowers stem from trauma also means that worm is fundamentally a narrative about trauma. specifically, about traumatized teenagers and the relationships they form as they cling together while struggling through growing up traumatized & mutually coping with an increasingly intriguing, intense, and far-reaching escalating plot. worm's depictions of trauma + mental illness--including unpalatable trauma responses, including traumatized characters who are allowed to be complicated and nuanced and messy while still receiving narrative respect--are deeply real-feeling and impactful, and they're placed in the context of a well-spun + engaging story.

i really do have to stress how excellent the character writing is. worm is fully deserving of being as long as it is. over the course of 1.7 million words of character development, the average reader's reaction to the main characters goes from "sorta interesting" to "okay, i want to see where this goes" to "augh...really likable" to "i am now on hands and knees crying and these characters are going to stick around in my brain forever." wildbow has incredible talent for efficiently conveying complicated, real-feeling, and viscerally evocative characterization. many of the interlude chapters (chapters written from the perspective of different characters other than taylor) are so interesting, fleshed-out, and emotionally affecting that they make you wish you could read an entire novel about just the side character being featured. with that level of characterization for just the side cast, it's not surprising that taylor (& co) are genuinely just downright iconic. and i do not say that lightly--taylor is truly one of the best-written protagonists i've seen in anything. ever.

the other main pitch-point for worm is that it's a fascinating deconstruction/reconstruction/examination of the conceits of the superhero genre. it answers the question of--what would the world have to be like, for people with superpowers to act the way they do in classic cape media? and it does this well enough that it's interesting even if you have only a passing familiarity with cape media. i am not a big superhero media fan, but worm addresses virtually every aspect of cape media that was under the sun around 2010 in a way that's so interesting i still find it incredibly engaging. the approach it takes makes the narrative very accessible even to people who aren't usually cape media fans.

and speaking of the narrative: the end of the story is coherent and satisfying and deeply thematically resonant*. the way worm follows through on all of its main mysteries & plot threads is excellent. you don't have to worry about getting thru 1.7 million words and being dissatisfied by the author shitting the bed at the end, or anything like that. he does an amazing job of weaving together plot events in a way that makes each successive one feel rationally, thematically, and emotionally connected to what came before. there's really only one part where i feel the story stumbles a bit, but i think it was the best option he had for the narrative, and it's by no means a dealbreaker. it's in fact really impressive how cohesive and satisfying worm is for such a long webserial released over such a brief period of time.

*this is subjective ive seen some people who didnt love it but ive never seen anyone who downright Hated it who didnt also demonstrate egregious misunderstanding of literally everything worm is about. so thats a good sign

as for the downsides of worm/things that might put you off:

there is a very long list of trigger warnings for it. if you have any trigger warnings you want you should ask your friends to let you know about the relevant parts, because the fact that it's About Trauma (& about typical cape media circumstances presented very seriously) means that traumatic and violent things & their realistic aftermath are constantly happening and/or being discussed. i would not classify worm as needlessly dark or spiteful to the audience by any means, but it is intense and covers a lot of heavy topics. i do assume if your friends are all recommending it to you, they think none of the material would be too much for you, though!

worm was written in 2010 by a white cishet guy from canada. it's typical levels of 2010-era bigoted, it has a deeply lesbophobic stereotype character, it has some atrociously racist stereotype characters, the author really hates addicts, It's Got Blind Spots. i think worm is generally fully worth reading despite these, but very fair warning that it can get bad. i think what exacerbates this is that worm is generally extremely nuanced & sympathetic regarding ideas such as "crime is a result of systematic circumstance vs people just being inherently evil" and "mentally ill people who are traumatized in unpalatable ways are still deserving of fundamental respect as human beings" and so on and so forth, so it's extra noticeable and insufferable when you get to a topic the author has unexamined biases on and all that nuance drops out. the worst part is that a lot of this is most concentrated in the early arcs, so you have to get through them without being super attached to any of the characters yet. it is worth it though.

worm like. Does have a central straight relationship in it. and it's a very well written straight relationship for the most part and i like it quite a lot. but worm also passes the bechdel test with such flying colors that it enters 'unintentionally homoerotic' territory. which means a lot of people were shipping the main character ms taylor hebert with her female friends while the story was being released. which caused the author to get so mad he 1. posted a word of god to a forum loudly insisting that all of the girls are straight and 2. inserted a few deeply awkward and obvious and out of character scenes where he finds an excuse for the girls to more or less turn to the camera and go "i'm not gay, btw. this is platonic." This is fucking insufferable, and will piss you off immensely, but then you will get to any of the number of deeply emotionally affecting scenes between them, and at that point you will be too busy sniffling piteously and perhaps crytyping an analysis post on tumblr to be mad about all that other shit. also they're only a couple tiny portions out of an entire overall fantastic novel

overall: if those points don't sound like dealbreakers (i hope they aren't they're really massively outstripped by the amount of devastatingly good moments in worm, worm still has a thriving fandom over a decade later for a reason), you should absolutely give it a shot and see what you think. my final note is that you have to read up until the end of arc 8 to really see where what makes worm Worm kicks in, so aim for at least there to see how you feel about it if you're just thinking about dipping your toes in vs fully committing. i hope that was helpful and not too long :)

oh and don't go in the comments section on wordpress if you don't want spoilers. or anywhere else in the fandom at all. you will be spoiled. quite possibly for things you could not even have imagined were topics to be spoiled on.

#ask #wormblr #parahumans #ill tag it to save it so i can reference later. and maybe other people will find it helpful

[cairoscene]

the thing about bruce wayne fanon. for me. is that i don't care about him being a "complex" father. i feel like a lot of ppl agree that he's abusive in canon and therefore in fanon he's a Good Father to compensate and that it strips away the complexities. but for me, bruce being a good dad already is complex? because even good fathers fuck up their children. even if he expresses love to his kids and values their safety and welfare, he's going to fuck them up. that's what fatherhood is. and batman's character is basically designed to be a poor father: he is crafted to be emotionally distant, traumatized, obsessive, and overbearing, that's just who you expect would dress up as a bat and try to end all crime. it's more subversive to me that the person who does that is also deeply invested in the wellbeing of his children, and misses having a family so much that come hell or high water he wants nothing to destroy the one he has now, not even himself. "bruce wayne's A+ parenting" "bruce wayne isn't perfect but he's trying" "complicated parent bruce wayne" i want bruce to be better at loving people than hitting them.

#i want him to be a good dad the same way i want him to be gay #bc he wasn't built for it but he deserves it anyway #just random thoughts on a sat morning #bruce wayne

[toomanyfandomstowrite]

I hate to say this, but the coffee theory is inherently bad and completely undermines the entire season of progression we’ve been seeing with Aziraphale.

The coffee theory completely robs his decision of agency and accountability - it gives him an easy out and thus gives the next season an easy conclusion. And I’m sorry, but Neil just Would Not write that.

He wouldn’t make it so simple and easy and, I know this sounds harsh, POORLY WRITTEN.

Aziraphale has spent thousands of years desperately clinging to the idea that Heaven is inherently good, that serving Heaven as an Angel is inherently good. He’s spent thousands of years being gaslit and undermined and tricking himself into honestly believing that Heaven isn’t broken, it can still be fixed, the system still works if HE just helped it.

That’s all Metatron did. He dug those seeds back up. He put it back in Aziraphale’s head that it’s not Heaven who’s bad, it’s not the system that’s broken, it just needs someone better at the helm! Someone like Aziraphale!

The coffee didn’t brainwash him. The coffee was just a simple act of manipulation from someone who’s been doing the same thing for thousands of years.

‘I know you. I understand you. I’m proud of you. I want you to be the leader of Heaven. Here’s a coffee.’

And Aziraphale went with it. Because it’s all he’s ever known.

If the coffee theory is true, then all of this characterization is GONE. All of the tension and pain in his decision is GONE. Any hope of Aziraphale having a satisfying character arc in season three is GONE. Because if the coffee theory is true, then Aziraphale is Stuck. His character is trapped in a place with no room to grow, to learn, to change.

If the coffee theory is true, then Aziraphale won’t even be able to apologize to Crowley for making the wrong choice.

And that, as a potential culmination of their relationship, is SO fucking sad.

Aziraphale deserves better. Because he’s a complicated, flawed, and deeply traumatized person. And now he needs to make the wrong choice. He needs to make that wrong choice, and hurt the person he loves most, because that is the ONLY way he can grow. It is the ONLY way he can break free of the bonds that Heaven’s broken system have put on him. Like Gabriel did.

Aziraphale needs to have wanted that coffee.

Because without that, then no lessons are learned. No resolution is earned.

And Aziraphale AND Crowley deserve so much better than that.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #ineffible husbands #coffee theory #aziraphale #crowley

[dark-audit]

Things I wish more writers understood about PTSD

Traumatic events don't always lead to PTSD. Two people can experience the exact same traumatic event, and one can go to work the next day shaken up but otherwise alright, while the other still has trouble functioning normally two years down the line. This is a fact that's been studied to death in psychology, but we're still no closer to figuring out why this discrepancy exists. So no, that character who experienced a very traumatic event and wasn't traumatized to your liking wasn't actually 'unrealistic'; they just didn't live up to your preconception of how trauma is supposed to effect people.

There is no flaw or 'weakness' in a person's temprament or personality construction that will make them more likely to develop PTSD, and likewise, people who don't develop PTSD are not inherently 'tougher'. PTSD is not the kind of illness you can blame on the person who suffers from it; human beings are more complicated than that. Furthermore, people who don't develop PTSD from a traumatic event exist, in fact they're very common, and while they don't develop that precise, largely arbitrary set of symptoms, they are still likely to be deeply affected by the event/s. Their experiences are no less real than those of their counterparts.

Sometimes, a person who experienced a traumatic even didn't develop PTSD afterwards - because they already had it. There are lots of people who go into therapy following a traumatic event only to discover they've been experiencing the symptoms of PTSD for years, following a previous unrelated traumatic event. This is especially common for people who had C-PTSD beforehand. Since PTSD can often manifest in very subtle ways, and since people are likely to 'mask' symptoms as a way to keep judgement or prying at bay, this scenario is not particularly uncommon.

PTSD doesn't always develop immediately following the traumatic event. PTSD can take any amount of time to develop. For most people, it takes around 3 months for symptoms to appear, but for a lot of people, the symptoms of PTSD do not appear for many months, even years after the event/s. This usually has something to do with the memory issues that can arise after trauma, and also might be affected by how a person conceptualizes the 'threat level' over time.

People with PTSD are not 'broken'; people with PTSD can be treated. Human beings aren't inanimate objects; we're living beings, graced with this incredible ability to adapt, grow and change. While there is no 'cure' for PTSD, there are loads of types of psychotherapy and medications that help to alleviate symptoms, and many people with this disorder are able to live fulfilling lives despite the diagnosis. Recovery is never out of the question, no matter how severe a person's symptoms might be. PTSD or not, I for one have yet to encounter anyone I would ever consider irrevocably 'broken'.

People with PTSD don't all experience the same symptoms. I feel like it needs to be said, because there is a bit of a 'type' in fiction, isn't there? And this can be incredibly disheartening to read for someone whose PTSD doesn't align with the way it is constantly shown to 'normally' manifest. In reality, PTSD is a very complex disorder, which might express itself in a wide breadth of different ways, and people handle their symptoms using a wide breadth of different methods. You'd be hard pressed to find two people who are completely alike in this regard.

Perpetrators of violence are just as likely to develop PTSD as their victims. This is one of those things I learned though my torture research escapades, and I've found it applies to other violent crimes as well, such as violent assault and murder. It's not a particularly nice fact to know if you want to maintain your straightforward good-vs-evil worldview, but alas, the real world is grim and complicated. There is actually a name for this type of PTSD, and it is Participation-Induced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PI-PTSD), or perpetrator trauma. PTSD does not discriminate, and you're not safe from it just because you're not on the recieving end.

People with PTSD aren't automatically more violent. I don't know why this myth has to be so prominent with every single mental illness ever, but like, yeah, its not true for this one either.

#correct me if i got sth wrong im no expert. about anything really. this is just some pet peeves #nonfiction #ptsd #trauma #psychology #writing

[sukifoof]

i talked about this earlier but there's something really upsetting to me about posts that declare a character as inhumane because they struggle to understand love and have ptsd, especially when there's several actual things that the character has done that are fucked up like. idk. murder.

i tend to really enjoy characters that act out due to trauma and struggle to understand love because those are things i've personally dealt with. i understand why others may not like them but pinning their "inhumanity" on struggling to understand love is just. seriously?? amatonormativity is so deeply ingrained in peoples brains and it's really upsetting to see as a loveless aro. lovelessness seems to be a bigger crime to people than murder when it comes to character analysis lol

there's so much that can go into loveless character analysis. for example flowey struggles to understand love due to trauma and because of this he feels extremely isolated in a world where love is considered something that makes people who they are. he feels trapped in a loop as he tries to deal with his trauma on his own because he thinks no one could possibly understand. his decision to exhaust everything he could do in the underground is a product of helplessness, isolation, and untreated trauma that he and his family didn't know how to handle.

so it just feels particularly hurtful and dense when i see extremely complicated traumatized loveless characters labeled as Evil and Beyond Help solely because they struggle to understand love. especially when stories with antagonists like this are typically about coming to terms with your trauma and allowing yourself to move on from the past. these characters act out in situations like this because of ostracization and desperation to be understood and safe.

pretty much i think if you think a character is Evil ask if this is because they have killed people or if you think the issue actually lies in their lovelessness. i keep seeing people look at characters that do bad things and they go "THIS IS BECAUSE THEY CANT FEEL LOVE!! MONSTER!!!" this isn't me saying that you aren't allowed to dislike characters cuz that's perfectly fine i Get It but sooo many times i see a post like "this character killed people :/ theyre EVIL cuz they CANT FEEL LOVE!!!" hey can we maybe focus on the Actual Crimes rather than ur own arophobia if we're talking about reasons we dislike characters thanks

#hi sorry saw a dumb post and i see this issue with a LOT of characters i like so im mad about it #i think about this a lot but im annoyed enough to actually post about it now #riel #amatonormativity #lovelessness #aromantic #utdr analysis #technically lol. just putting it there for the sake of anyone who looks through my analysis tag #flowey #undertale

[agentrouka-blog]

I often see this sentiment that Ned should have told Cat the truth about Jon and it would have solved all their problems. I disagree with this? I don't think Ned was being an idiot for not telling Cat. I think there were a multitude of reasons of why he didn't tell her, and all of them held weight in his decision.

1) he didn't know or trust her when they got married

2) a secret stops being one if you tell even one person about it. He promised Lyanna he wouldn't tell anyone and that included everyone, except obviously the people already present at the tower (Howland and the wet nurse I presume)

3) there is a possibility that Cat's behavior towards Jon would have changed knowing he was not a result of Ned's affair, but her resentment towards him also provided a cover. If she treated him, say cordially, then it would have been very suspicious considering Ned was already fostering him at his own home.

4) after he came to know Cat, he would have realized that she was fiercely protective of her family, she wouldn't have thought twice before giving up Jon for her children if it came to that. A choice no sane person, including Ned, can fault her for. By not telling her, he removed that option for her, saved Jon and also saved her from the guilt that would have haunted her.

5) he was committing treason that would have endangered Cat and his children. In case it ever got out there was plausible deniability for his family that they didn't know and it might have saved them.

His actions hurt both Catelyn and Jon but it was a very complicated situation overall so I understand him too. I don't know what would have been the alternative because I don't think telling Catelyn would have solved anything. What is your opinion on this?

I don't think people generally claim it would have magically fixed "everything", but many also misunderstand how Ned is mishandling the situation. He isn't actually handling it well by himself, he isn't handling it the way he would have if Jon was actually his bastard. His inability to be "normal" about it and come up with a convincing lie created most of the avoidable problems we see, which is Catelyn's eternal insecurity about Ned's feelings for Jon (and his mother) which feeds her anxiety about her own children being usurped, plus Jon's complete trauma over knowing absolutely nothing about his mother. Both are left hanging for no logical reason from their POV, and that's an absolutely insane path for Ned to go down.

True, and then he chose to go the worst way about it and never fixed it later.

Howland knows. The Daynes know. Wylla probably knows. Benjen probably knows. Come on. And we don't know what she made him promise and it's more likely to be along the lines of protecting her son than specifically never telling anyone who could have helped him handle this better.

Catelyn being "nice" to Jon isn't even half of it. She could have advised Ned on how to handle the situation in a realistic way with the least harm done. Which is likely to foster Jon somewhere, make plans for his future instead of leaving him aimless, create a believable lie about his mother that doesn't shame him, have a harmoniously accepted situation instead of making his kids grow up with this unresolved conflict warping their emotional well-being.

What situation could realistically arise where Cat could "sell out" Jon to "save" her children that specifically depends on her knowing this and also wouldn't mean they are all already in deep trouble? It's nonsense. Also, Catelyn "Family Duty Honor" Tully would not fault Ned for wanting to save his sister's child. It's a perfectly decent choice on his part and a dilemma she could easily understand. Come on!

How is this (thin glaze) of plausible deniability not equally achieved by simply lying (and lying better than Ned can, especially)?

It's just that Ned left both Cat and Jon deeply anxious and traumatized, respectively, because his decision was to lie very badly and then refuse to answer all reasonable questions. It has repercussions for all of them. From Cat to Sansa to Jon to Robb.

Plus: Ned may have actually had an opportunity to heal from his horrific trauma if he had talked to literally anyone about it. He may have been less likely to cling to Robert as a vestige of his lost youth, blinding himself to the man's monstrous faults and sticking around to his own doom.

It would not have "fixed everything" but you can't convince me it wouldn't have fixed some things.

#eddard stark critical #jon snow #rlj #catelyn stark #trauma #rouka ask

[thebibutterflyao3]

Marauders Fandom

We need to talk about Lily Evans.

The amount of misogyny directed at this character is truly mind-boggling and I think many of you are completely unaware you’re doing it. There are so many rich, in-depth characterizations of the male characters in the Marauders era because we accept that they are deeply flawed people. It’s because of these flaws that we identify with them, adore them, and can relate to them. These four idiots experience damaging trauma, homophobia, discrimination, and countless character building experiences that allow them to capture your imagination. Through fanfiction, we inflict numerous situations and create relationships that challenge logic, reality, and canon. It makes them powerful figures in our minds!

Now, let’s talk about the female Marauders era characters. Dorcas and Marlene are lesbians. Marlene is a Sirius-variant. Dorcas and Mary are Black. Lily is perfect in every way. Mary is stylish and popular. This is more or less the level of depth given to these characters in nearly every fic I’ve read that includes them. What a disgusting disservice to women.

Female characters can be written with just as many flaws, experience the same challenges, and deserve the opportunity to grow into the powerful figures they could be. The one that I feel is shafted the most often is Lily mother-fucking Evans. The witch who was at the top of her class, compared in canon to Hermione as a perfectionist and know-it-all muggle-born, who grew up with Petunia as an older sister, and Severus Snape as a best friend. You’re going to look me in the eyeballs and tell me this woman wasn’t complicated? She wasn’t flawed, traumatized, and intense? We’ve taken the rich characterization potential this character offered and given it to Regulus Black. The correlations that can be made between Regulus and Lily are wild, yet anyone who writes her as anything but sunshine and rainbows is accused of villainizing her.

News flash: Your misogyny is showing. Why do you expect Lily to be perfect? Because society expects women to be perfect. Why are male characters allowed to be flawed assholes? Because society allows and accepts men as flawed assholes, encourages it even.

I find it endlessly fascinating that I can write Regulus as a snarky, intense, anxious, and a complete prick with nothing but full support from the fandom because he’s “traumatized.” If I write Lily the same way? I’m “villainizing” her or you “hate her” for thinking she knows better than everyone else. Stop treating women like dolls. We are powerful individuals with the potential to brighten or destroy your whole fucking world. Don’t make the same mistake the patriarchy has and dismiss, undermine, and overlook women.

I know Lily Jane Evans (yes, I gave her a middle name because she fucking deserves one). I wrote a 430k+ deep dive into her childhood and upbringing, as well as all 7 years at Hogwarts. I explored her friendship with Snape, her family, and her relationship with James. I’ve done my research and I built her character from the ground up. Lily Evans is an anxious, intense, introvert who made Hogwarts her home and rose to the rank of Head Girl before she left. Sound like Percy Weasley to anyone? She’s certainly a compassionate, loving, and generous person too, but let her have flaws! Let her be annoying, feel inadequate, and fuck things up! Let her live!

If you want more fanfiction focused on female characters, stop pretending they are perfect. No one wants to write about perfect people. No one wants to read about them either. Let women be flawed assholes too. We can do both. We’re flexible like that.

#welcome to my ted talk #the marauders #lily evens #lily evans supremacy #marauders era #jily #harry potter #jegulus #starchaser #wolfstar #dorlene #marylily

[gaypirateslife4me]

I survived Buffy and Faith. (BtVS)

I survived Dean and Cas. (SPN)

I survived Olivia and Alex. (SVU)

I survived Sherlock and Watson. (Sherlock)

I survived Bucky and Steve, AND Sam and Steve, AND Bucky and Sam. (MCU)

I survived Clark and Lexa (t100).

I am currently surviving Will and Mike, Steve and Eddie, AND Nancy and Robin. (Stranger Things)

I have suffered through: queerbaiting; "everyone experiments in college"; queer coded? - they must be the villain!; "the inherent tragedy of gayness" (repression, AIDs, violence, hatred); girl-on-girl male fanservice; "pray the gay away"; and, most personally painful, "bisexuals aren't real, they just need to pick a side". (I mean, I am though?)

I have been fully and irrevocably traumatized by having to watch my beloved queers be buried over & over & over.

I have literally spent three-and-a-half decades in a toxic, abusive relationship with (not so) queer media.

Upon recommendation of multiple queer friends, I (skeptically, cynically, borderline angrily) watched their so-called "GAY PIRATE (affectionate)" comedy, and was gobsmacked.

Our Flag Means Death gave us: well-rounded characters that are 'no-room-for-guessing, even-your-deeply-repressed-insufferable-republican-uncle-can-see-it queer! Multiple queers with disabilities! Neurodivergent queers! A genderqueer pirate so slay I lose my breath every time they are on screen! Sex between mlm not reduced to 1) tittilation or 2) the raunchy punchline of a mean joke! An unapologetic celebration of Found Family! Drag treated with respect, and as a catalyst for openly queer joy! A fabulous gay wedding! And that's not to mention the loving, romantic, complicated, vulnerable, beautiful relationship between the two male protagonists!

I saw it. with my own two eyeballs. for the first time ever. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I assumed everyone must be as thrilled, honored, and overjoyed as I am for all the rep, positivity, and LOVE.

I was wrong.

It breaks my queer little heart that so many people on this glorious hellsite are furious, indignant, and quick to cancel the characters, the actors, the writers, and the showrunners for not being spoon-fed perfect queer characters in perfect queer relationships for perfect queer rep in ACTUAL queer media that exists! In canon!

It hurts to be vilified for being a fan who refuses to condemn the show and for loving concerningly imperfect and deeply-flawed queer characters.

I am sorry, but as far as I'm concerned, LOVE WON. We won. Please stop coming into my house (blog) and pissing all over my rainbow parade.

#our flag means death #ofmd #about me #please just let me have this #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #queer media #meta #cancel culture #things cancel culture has killed #queerbaiting #queer tropes #bury your gays #queer representation #izzy hands apologist #edward teach apologist #ofmd meta #drag #love wins #love won #long post

[camillescreations]

I just need to talk about how much I adore Stede, especially in these new episodes. Yes, he's made mistakes, yes he's flawed, yes he can be a total bitch. But he's, in my eyes, just a really kind and sweet man, who's doing his best. Some of the things he's done have been undesirable, sure, but he is a traumatized and deeply insecure person who is just trying to find his place in the world. He's just trying to find something that makes him happy, that makes him feel fulfilled. Isn't that all anyone is after?

And then he finds that place on his ship with his crew. And Ed finds him and he falls in love for the first time. He meets someone he can share his life with. Someone he can laugh with, that loves him unconditionally and actually openly cares about his silly model ship and two chandeliers and his secret rooms. And that's all he wanted, really, on top of feeling like he belongs. And then he leaves because he feels like that was all in his head, that Ed couldnt possibly be happier with him around. The growth really starts to happen when he resolves the complicated family situation he created and sets out to find the love of his life. He spends the first episodes talking about finding Ed nonstop, taking whatever awful situations he was forced to be in if it meant it would bring him closer to reuniting with him.

Stede has grown so much since last season. He gives Lucius pretty solid advice all while admitting how much he messed up, and he always tries to keep a positive attitude for his crew (family), because he knows their situation sucks and he's trying to make the best of it. Because that's what Stede does, he hopes. And then he FINALLY gets back to the Revenge, only to find it in absolute ruins. His baby is destroyed, and he knows, deep down, who did it. And we know that hurts him. But that doesn't stop him from welcoming Blackbeard's group back with a smile on his face, asking for them to give him a straight answer as to where Ed is, because that's all he's thought about for months.

And then he sees the truth: Ed has been killed by his crew. Ed's body is there, clear as day, hidden away in the bowels of the Revenge. They lied to him. They killed his love, his reason for going back to sea, the person who has consumed his every waking thought, who has been in his dreams every night. Ed is gone; it was all for nothing.

But Stede doesn't scream. He doesn't shut down. He doesn't resort to violence or retaliation against his crew. Even when Izzy directly confronts him, he still doesn't take the bait. No, once he is shown the truth and realizes that there's no more talking it through with Zheng, that his crew will be killed unless something is done, this beautiful man sucks it up and formulates a very solid plan of escape. And he does it on his own!

Even though he knows that he's escaping to the Revenge, his home that won't feel like home anymore because Ed isn't there, he does it anyway, to keep the people he loves safe. Even Izzy, whom he absolutely loathes at this point in time. Stede never let his love for Edward or his grief overtake his love for his crew and his desire to get back the family he once had, all back on his beloved ship.

And it's only after they were all safe that he let himself grieve, going to visit Ed's body and lamenting about how he thinks he messed everything up. And it's such a beautiful moment when he grabs Ed's hand and realizes that his love isn't gone, that he still has hope. Ugh the man is just so wonderful.

I'm so excited to see how Stede grows as a person and a leader this season. He's already shown great strides in his character development. And Rhys Darby's acting is phenomenal. I loved every moment he was on screen. Especially when Stede was in anguish, and his more serious moments. I can't wait to see what the season has in store for my favorite guy!!!

#our flag means death #ofmd #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death season 2 #gentlebeard #stede x ed #edward teach #ofmd spoilers #ofmd 2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death 2 spoilers #our flag means death season 2 spoilers

[fu66sun]

telepath; 이동혁; love

heartbreak is an enigma that never unfolds in a specific moment. it isn't a linear journey either. rather, you realize you've been heartbroken after a period of living through that emotional turmoil.

love, on the other hand, takes on numerous forms and arrives in various ways. you might not even notice you've been in love until it either slips through your fingers or you fully acknowledge its presence.

for y/n, love had always been somewhat of a mystery. most of her life was characterized by unrequited love, leaving her with the sense that love was a foreign concept. this realization had always carried an undercurrent of insecurity for her, and it was her biggest secret. in comparison to her friends like renjun and haechan, she often felt like she was lagging behind in the realm of love and relationships. her heart guarded by layers of caution and self-doubt. she had grown up on a steady diet of romance novels and romantic comedies, each one intensifying her longing for a love that had thus far eluded her. her closest brush with a real relationship had been with doyoung, a guy she met on tinder a couple of years ago. they had chatted for an entire year before finally meeting in person, and y/n had felt like it was her chance to experience all the romantic adventures she'd missed out on.

however, that potential romance was cut short when doyoung uttered the dreaded words, "i'm not ready for a relationship." after leading her on for a month, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more, leaving y/n feeling like she was once again left in the lurch. it was as if she had regressed into the realm of loneliness, her romantic inexperience a constant source of frustration.

and she was back to, a lonely virgin, again.

renjun… he had a girlfriend and was deeply committed to her. as he often mentioned, he was rarely single and had navigated the world of relationships with relative ease. with his easy charm and charisma, renjun seemed to find love effortlessly, a fact that often left y/n in awe and admiration.

haechan, on the other hand, was a different story. while he had never officially had a girlfriend, he was the epitome of a "fuckboy." he would regularly skip classes to meet up with girls, boasting about the number of girls he'd kissed, and touting his sexual conquests as if they were his greatest achievements. it was easy to label him as the typical bad boy who was allergic to commitment, but there was more to haechan than met the eye.

there was a time when haechan wasn't always like that. according to the stories he shared with renjun, there was a significant chapter in his life involving a family friend named winter. the way he talked about her suggested a deeper connection. winter wasn't ready for a serious relationship at the time, and neither was haechan, initially.

however, something shifted for him, and he wanted more. unfortunately, winter didn't reciprocate his feelings. this disconnect led to clashes and ultimately drove them apart. winter's rejection left haechan deeply affected, and he gradually adopted the persona of a traumatized "fuckboy-wannabe." even as he pursued numerous other girls, haechan couldn't help but reflect on the impact winter had on him and how their complex relationship had left a lasting mark on his approach to love and relationships.

all while also trying to get with every girl in sight. which would eventually also include you.

haechan's transformation to someone who wore the mask of indifference intrigued y/n. she often wondered about the untold moments and heartaches that led to this drastic change. could she learn something from his story, or would it simply reinforce her belief that love was a complicated and elusive entity?

taglist yayy: @sunflowerhae @sundamariis @yesohhsehun @hcheach @lhcread if i forgot anyone pls send me an ask !!!<3<3<3<3

a/n: i wanted to give the characters a bit more depth, rather than just fighting or eventually just fucking. lmao. i have such a special spot for the three of them. i can't wait for you to continue reading and getting to know them a bit better. whatever questions you have about them, feel free to ask:)

i also wont be uploading a new chapter until tuesday or the days after, my midterms are right around the corner, so, yeah.

have a nice weekend.

love, yuu

#haechan #haechan angst #haechan au #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n #lee donghyuck #nct #nct dream #haechan smut #nct haechan