#so yeah it's still a kind of repression but he knows he's fucking in love with cas he just thinks this is all he'll ever get

[alwaysmicado]

Don't ruin the sofa

6.5k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 3

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, mild hurt/comfort, mention of blood, phone sex, talk of anal play, one (1) face slap, rough sex, pain kink, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, degradation/praise, fluffy aftercare, pet names, dom!Joel Summary: After a phone call brings up repressed emotions, you decide to buy a new sofa. Joel assembles it for you, then fucks you on it.  A/N: You're trying to reach reader? Sorry, she's moved on. (+ is fucking the hottest guy around). Read the previous parts here: pt. 1 | pt. 2 | masterlist | AO3 (each part can be read alone). Thank you all for your love on this series. Your kind words mean the world to me. 🤍

“How is this my fucking life,” you whisper to yourself and let your phone fall onto the wooden coffee table with a thud. You get up with a groan and drag yourself to the fridge where you know an opened bottle of white wine is waiting for you, then pour yourself a healthy amount, eye the glass, pour some more and shuffle back to the sofa. 

As soon as you plop back down, your phone lights up and vibrates for the third time since you came home from work. The loud and resonant buzz, amplified and carried by the hard surface of the table, is aggravating to say the least. You take a big sip of your wine and let out an exasperated sigh when the caller won’t let up. That’s it, you’ve had enough. In a split second you swipe up to take the call and put the phone to your ear. 

You don’t say anything. He’s the one who’s been texting and calling you every night for the past week, so you’re certainly not going to say something first. Instead, you wait and swirl your wine.

“Finally,” you hear him breathe with relief. “I thought you’d never pick up.” 

Then why do you keep calling, you stupid idiot. You roll your eyes in annoyance and put your naked feet on the coffee table. The wine is successfully taking the edge off, but you're still this close to telling him off for good. Perhaps you should; he deserves it. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot, babe,” he purrs into your ear, his sickeningly sweet voice sending a shiver down your spine. “About you, about us; about everything, really. About what could’ve been if things didn’t end like they di-”

“What do you want, Simon?” You interrupt him, your patience for his theatrics already wearing thin. 

“Oh, babe,” he breathes, “It’s so good to hear your vo-”

“What do you want?” You ask again, emphasizing every word.

“I want to apologize,” he answers with a deep sigh, then clears his throat. “I- I’m sorry about what happened and how we ended things, I really am.”

You snort and pluck a stray piece of lint from your tank top. Is he for real right now?

“Cool story, Simon,” you deadpan as you get up to go grab the wine bottle from the fridge. “That it?” 

“I was hoping we could talk about things, maybe meet up? I’d love to see you.” 

You slam the fridge door shut and take the bottle back to the sofa. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you mutter and pour yourself another glass. 

“Of course there is,” Simon protests, the agitated tone of his voice betraying the calm and collected facade he tried to put up. “I really think we should talk about what happened. I can’t just forget about it, you know.” Oh yeah, this is the real Simon. Always trying to manipulate the people around him. Sucks for him that you’ve figured it out. 

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mumble and bring the cold rim of the glass back to your lips. 

“Oh, come on now. Why are you acting like this?” He groans, his annoyance palpable. When he realizes you’re not going to answer him and that he maybe should be more diplomatic, he relents. “I just think we should talk about it, that’s all.”

“You wanna talk about it, huh?” You laugh dryly. “About how you were fucking Laura while I was bleeding. Or how you were fucking her when I was in surgery. Or how you were fucking her when I desperately tried to reach you. You wanna talk about all of that.” 

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Simon counters. “We weren’t together at that point and-,” he trails off and sighs deeply. “I was scared, okay?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “We’ve had this exact conversation three years ago, Simon. There’s nothing left to say. I’m over it.”

“How can you say that?” he asks incredulously.

“You never once called me after I moved out to ask how I was. Not once,” you sigh, this conversation slowly tugging at the stitches of wounds you thought were long closed.

“You told me you didn���t wanna hear from me,” Simon huffs. “And I was- fuck. I’m just sorry, okay? I know i fucked up.”

You both don’t say anything for a few seconds, his breathing in your ear the only thing you can hear. 

“Can we meet, babe? Please? I think it would be good for both of us.” 

You chug the remaining wine and take a deep breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Simon. I got nothing to say to you.” 

And with that you hang up and throw your phone across the sofa. You take a deep breath, put your feet on the ground and your palms on your thighs. You close your eyes and say out loud, “calm, safe, breathe.” You repeat the mantra before adding, “It’s over, I’m here, I’m safe. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.” 

When you open your eyes again and observe the familiar surroundings of your apartment, a soothing feeling of  comfort washes over you. There’s the purple vase you bought at a flea market in the first week after moving in, there are your beloved succulents that look as healthy as ever, there’s the painting you got from your talented colleague for your last birthday. And there’s the polaroid Tommy took of you and Joel at the party where he introduced you two.

You quickly wipe away your tears and turn on your TV. Another glass of wine, your favorite show and you’ll be able to sleep in no time, you tell yourself. You get up to get a new bottle from the fridge and decide to take the leftover banana bread you made with you as well. It’s time for all the comfort you can get. 

With your hands full, you shuffle back to the sofa and, due to the dim light and the fact that you just downed an almost full bottle of wine on an empty stomach, you completely miss the fact that you’re directly walking into one of the coffee table legs. You stub your toes hard, trip and fall to the floor. You can only watch in slow motion as the plate flies through the air and shatters on your hardwood floor, the banana bread just rolling away sadly. The wine glass is even more spectacular, as its contents spill all over your sofa and the glass explodes into a thousand shards. 

“Fuck my life,” you groan and get on your knees to pick up the big pieces with your hands before sweeping up the smaller ones with a dustpan and brush later. 

“Shit,” you hiss and clutch your wrist. 

Of course you cut yourself on one of the shards, blood immediately trickling down onto the carpet. The cut on your palm is not deep, but it stings. And the blood is already seeping into the fabric - great. You let out an exasperated sigh and get up. 

You can’t be bothered to take care of all this right now, so you slap a too small bandaid over the cut, brush your teeth, take your melatonin with a glass of water and go to bed. 

— 

What sociopath calls this early? And on your day off no less. You groan at the sharp and grating sound emitted by your phone on the nightstand, but pick up when you see who it is. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is little more than a hoarse whisper, laced with a sleepy rasp. 

“Aww, did I wake the princess?” Joel asks in mock concern. You can hear the smirk on his stupid handsome face through the phone. 

“No, no,” you murmur and rub your bleary eyes. “I’ve already run ten miles, deep-cleaned my whole apartment and rescued a cat from a tree. What have you done, hm?” 

“Touché. Very impressive, darlin’,” he chuckles, your wit never failing to amuse him. “And no, I haven’t rescued any cats so far today. I’m just at work. Besides,” he continues before his voice takes on a sultry tone, “the only pussy I’m interested in is yours anyway.”

You involuntarily suck in a breath and feel yourself clench around nothing. You’re still half asleep and have no clue what planet you’re on, but Joel’s still managed to get you all hot and bothered within ten seconds of your conversation; and with a shitty pun at that.

You might have a mild problem. 

“Hmm, you like that, don’t you?” He groans softly as the rhythmic fapping sound reaches your ear.

“Are you jerking off right now?” You ask, less shocked and definitely more turned on than you should be. 

“Yeah,” he purrs. “You wanna help me, baby?” 

“Hang on,” you say, trying to process the situation. “You’re at work and you just what, decided to call me at - you look at the time on your display - 7:13 in the morning, so I could get you off?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Joel murmurs into your ear.  

You can’t help but chuckle at his audacity and complete lack of shame. You love it. 

“Alright,” you coo, “but first you gotta tell me what’s got you all riled up.” You put him on speaker and slide your hand between your legs. 

“My secretary’s wearing a tight dress today,” he murmurs, then spits into his hand to wet his shaft.  

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, “She turn you down and now poor you has to make do with me?” You run your fingers through your folds and bite your lip as you spread the slick from your core to your clit. 

“You know me better than that, darlin’,” Joel says softly. “I was scrolling through the photos I took of the construction site yesterday and then the pic you sent me caught my eye. Couldn’t concentrate on anything else afterwards.” 

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as you think of Joel losing his composure because of you. It is a hot photo to be fair. After your phone call with Simon on Sunday night, you ordered a new sofa, carpet and some fun items of the adult variety to feel better. While trying out one of them, you felt compelled to let Joel have a piece of your fun and sent him a pic of you with your best assets on display. 

“You like that one, huh,” you tease, your fingers slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I was thinking about you when I took it, you know.”

“Fuck yeah,” Joel murmurs, his breathing heavy. “Look fucking gorgeous with your ass stuffed and your tits out.” 

“Mmm, it’s a new ribbed dildo I got. Felt amazing in my tight little hole,” you purr and hear Joel groan softly at the image. “I used a vibrator on my clit while I fucked my ass, but my pussy felt far too empty. It was dripping so much I had to change the sheets after.”

“That’s my dirty girl. You want two cocks to stuff your greedy holes, baby?” He moans, clearly aroused by the idea of seeing you fall apart while being filled to the brim. You dip your fingers into your wet cunt and use your slick to rub your clit harder.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathe, causing Joel’s painfully hard cock to twitch, “want you to tie me to the bed so my pussy’s wide open for you. I want you to choose a toy that’s too big and push it inside my dripping hole to stretch it until it’s a ruined mess. When you’re satisfied and take the toy out of my ruined hole, I’d beg you to finally fuck my cunt with your cock, but you’d fuck my ass instead and just leave my used pussy clench around nothing.”

You moan breathlessly as you can feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten and pleasure building rapidly. Hearing Joel lose his mind on the other end of the line is setting all of your nerves on fire and you desperately wish he was here to fuck you like you deserve. 

“Fuck, you’re such a perfect little whore,” Joel groans, fisting his cock faster. “I’d film the whole thing, so I could show you how pathetic you look begging for my cock and dripping with my cum. I’d fill you up over and over again until you’re a crying mess begging me to stop.” His moans are getting louder and you can’t help but wonder how thick the walls of his office must be.  

You can’t wait for him to get his hands on you and do with you as he pleases. “I’ll take whatever you decide to give me, Sir.”

“Gonna take my cum in all your holes, angel?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, I need it so bad. I just wanna be your cum slut for you to fill up.” 

When Joel just groans at that, you know you’ve hit on something. “That’s what I am, right? Your cum slut to fill up?” You’re incredibly close to coming already, but you want to wait for Joel. 

“That’s what you are, angel. And you’re just perfect like that. Three holes for me to use. Always so,” he pants breathlessly as he’s tip-toeing on the edge of his release, “always so fucking good for me. Gonna- gonna ruin you, baby. Gonna make you come on my cock until you cry.”

“Can I please come, Sir? I- I don’t think I can wait anymore,” you whine desperately, Joel’s filthy mouth putting you over the edge. 

“Oh yeah, baby,” he pants breathlessly as he increases the pace of his strokes. You can hear the obscene sound of him fucking his fist. “You gonna come with me?”

You moan his name as you reach your peak, your whole body trembling and finding its release. Joel is right behind you, erupting into his hand and onto his belly with a strangled groan. Your orgasm is so intense that you can ride it out for a few ecstatic seconds filled with your breathless moans. When you come down from your climax, you only hear your blood rushing in your ears and the pulsating sound of your heart.  

You try to catch your breath for a few seconds and open your eyes before asking, “Joel, you alive?”

When the only thing you hear is heavy breathing, you giggle. You know exactly how he looks right now, all disheveled with his wet cock out and a big satisfied smile on his lips. You wish so badly you could lick up every last drop of his cum. 

“Mmm, you’re such a good girl,” Joel murmurs after some time, still coming down from his high and opening a drawer to retrieve some tissues. “I’ll clear my schedule, so we can do this every morning, alright?” 

You chuckle and turn on your side, “You’d get bored with me pretty quickly if we did this every day.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard today,” Joel scoffs and wipes his softening cock with the tissues. “And I had to explain to Tommy that he can’t influence the gender of his future baby by fucking his wife a certain way. So, yeah.” 

You laugh at the image of Tommy vividly explaining how he and Maria have sex and Joel just standing there, dumbfounded, asking himself if he might have damaged his little brother’s brain when they were wrestling as kids.

“Alright, babe,” Joel says softly, “since my cock’s not hogging all of my blood anymore, I should try and get some work done.” 

“Good idea,” you chuckle. “Say hi to Tommy from me, okay?”

“Will do, darlin’. And you let me know when you got time to show me that new toy of yours in person, alright?” 

Your eyes lock on the big IKEA packages in your living room and you bite your lip. 

“You wanna come over later?”

---

You’re actually excited for your new sofa. You’ve had the old one removed by a company yesterday and already spread out the new carpet. It’s gray with white shapes on it. And it’s fluffy, so you’ve spent quite some time walking on it with bare feet.

You assembled your old sofa yourself when you moved in three years ago. It was dark blue and you loved it. But you also spilled a lot of stuff on there over time, bodily fluids included. So it’s nice to get a new, clean one. 

Especially when it’s the reason why Joel Miller is currently kneeling on your floor, his broad back and arms stretching the fabric of his white T-shirt, his perfect butt accentuated by his jeans, wrestling with the IKEA manual he insists is “misleading” and “must’ve been written by some idiot who’s never built anything in his goddamn life”.

Needless to say, you’re loving the free entertainment. 

He shoots you an annoyed look and lets out an exasperated sigh when you point out for the third time that he’s reading the instructions wrong. You can’t not tease him, he makes it too easy. 

“As much as I appreciate your very generous help, darlin’, I really wish you’d get the fuck outta here before I strangle you. Lovingly.” 

You giggle and scratch the back of his head softly. “It’s not like you to get so frustrated, baby,” you purr into his ear as you lean down, giving him a perfect view of your naked tits under your oversized shirt. “You sure you don’t need my help? I wouldn’t want you to strain your poor knees and back too much, you know.” 

You wish you could take pictures with your retinas because the glare Joel is giving you right now is priceless.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” He scoffs and tilts his head as his dark eyes bore into you. Uh-oh, now you did it. “If you’re not out of this room in ten seconds, I’m gonna tie you to your bed and edge you with a vibrator on full volume until you’re crying from pain. And believe me when I tell you that I will not let you come.” 

A smug smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips as he observes how your pupils have dilated and how you're pressing your thighs together at his threat. He raises an eyebrow when you don’t move and tuts, “Poor baby, already cockdumb even though I haven’t even touched her yet, hm?” You frown at him, but he just laughs at you. “Time’s ticking you little brat, better get out while you still can.” You bite the inside of your cheek and sigh dramatically before heading for your bedroom. 

When you hear Joel chuckle behind you, you hesitate for a second, but he’s already read your mind. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls. “And close the door.”

You do just that, jump on your bed and watch Netflix on your laptop. It only takes Joel another 40 minutes to finish assembling the sofa, so you’re pleasantly surprised when he calls your name so soon. 

You close your laptop and quickly smell your armpits. You’ve showered in the morning, but it’s still incredibly hot even with the AC blasting. When you’ve assessed that you smell good, you open the door to the living room. 

“How do you like it?” Joel asks as he’s standing next to the cream-colored piece of furniture. He’s already put away all of the packaging material and made sure the cushions are clean. It looks absolutely stunning and nicely complements all the other furniture in the room.

You trace the back of the sofa with your hand, appreciating the soft material and come to a halt when you’re flush with Joel’s body. You look up into his eyes and coo, “Thank you so much, Joel. I love it.” He smiles back at you and studies your face for a second before grabbing you by the nape of your neck and your ass cheek. 

“You listen to me very carefully now ‘cause I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he growls, intensifying the grip on your neck. “You do as you’re told. You answer me. You don’t come unless I tell you to and I’m not gonna stop unless you say your safeword. Understood?”

You’re so stunned that you can only nod, your words completely failing you. 

You gasp in surprise as Joel’s palm cracks against your left cheek, leaving a stinging imprint. You instinctively move your left hand to soothe the pain, but Joel is faster than you and catches your wrist. “Tell me your safeword, baby,” he purrs and caresses your sensitive cheek. 

You stammer the specific word you both know to be your safeword before he tangles his hand in your hair and captures your lips in a hungry kiss. Your heart rate picks up immediately as you part your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip in. The sensation of Joel’s soft lips and his broad body pressing against yours has you rub against the bulge in his jeans. 

He grabs your thigh and lifts it up, so he can grind against your aching core directly. You moan into his mouth, your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him into you as you move your hips in sync with his thrusts. You’re so sensitive since your orgasm this morning that you could come like this if he let you.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you,” he pants as he breaks the kiss and studies your face. Your pupils are blown, your chest is heaving and your mind is spinning. You want him so badly it hurts. “Take off your clothes and bend over the armrest, baby,” Joel orders and you obey immediately. You let your shirt and pj pants fall down to your feet, causing Joel to suck in a sharp breath when he sees that you’re not wearing any panties. 

He looks at you hungrily as you bend over the sofa, your arms resting on the cushion and your ass in the air with your legs spread. 

“You’re the prettiest little whore I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He asks as he’s tracing your back with his fingertips. When you don’t answer him, he smacks your ass hard. You yelp in surprise at the impact and instinctively close your legs. Joel presses his clothed bulge against your wet pussy and kicks your feet apart with his. He caresses the red cheek with one hand and tangles the other in your hair to yank your head back. “Answer me or I’ll spank you until you can’t anymore,” he growls into your ear, the dangerous tone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m the prettiest little whore you’ve ever seen,” you blurt out, then moan at the feeling of Joel running his fingers through your folds. “Mmm, you’re such a good girl,” he praises. “Always so wet for me.”

You hear him unbutton and unzip his jeans, hear his belt buckle hit the floor and his heavy breathing behind you as he coats his hard cock in your slick and gives it a few pumps. “I need you to be strong now, angel,” he says softly as he rubs your clit with his index and middle finger. You’re so desperate for him to touch you that his words don’t register. 

A needy moan escapes your lips as he’s finally relieving some of the tension that’s been building in your core all day long. You push your hips back as far as you can to chase the friction, but Joel withdraws his fingers all too quickly. You whine desperately at the loss and immediately feel tears well up in your eyes. You hear the dull thud of his T-shirt hitting the floor.

“Shh, be good for me, baby,” Joel purrs before you feel his hands grabbing your hips and the head of his cock nudging your entrance. Your eyes widen in realization as your brain has now processed what he’s planning on doing.   

Before you can protest though, he’s already ramming his cock inside you in one smooth thrust, splitting you open with a force you’ve never felt before. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it, baby,” Joel groans loudly, stumbling forward because of the shiver that’s running down his spine, causing him to go even deeper. 

The sudden impact of his cock spreading you open without any preparation besides your wetness has knocked the air out of your lungs. Only when he moves and nudges your cervix does your body finally allow you to cry out in pain.  

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m here,” Joel purrs as he gives you no time to adjust to his size or the pain at all, but starts to set a slow rhythm, thrusting his cock in and out of your tight pussy. You sob into the cushion and try to rub your clit on the armrest, but Joel pulls you back on his cock hard when he notices. 

“Nuh-uh, baby,” he tuts as he picks up the pace and uses his grip on your sides to bounce you on his cock. “What do you think you’re doing, huh?” 

He slaps the same spot on your ass as before when you don’t answer him. Your chest heaves as you choke on your sobs, unable to get an answer out. “I know it hurts, baby. I’m so sorry about that,” he coos as he continually rocks into you at an unrelenting pace. “But I really need you to answer me, angel.”

“I-I want to c-come, Sir,” you sob pathetically, tears streaming from your eyes. 

“I get that, baby, I really do. But I don’t think you understand what this is,” Joel groans. “You really think I’m gonna let you come, you brat?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whine as Joel’s cock expertly massages your G-spot with every powerful thrust of his hips. The mix of pain and pleasure has your body and mind on fire. There are no thoughts in your brain, no ex-boyfriends, no past, no blood, no sadness - just Joel and you, melting into one. 

When he feels you tighten your muscles around him, hears your breathing get ragged and the pitch of your moans get higher, he pulls out of you. You scream and sob into the cushion as your legs shake uncontrollably. You were so close. 

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel breathes, then starts stroking your back and ass gently before watching his cock disappear into your body once again. “I don’t care how good it feels,” he pants. “You'd better not come until I tell you to.” 

When you feel your orgasm approach quickly again, your body so utterly desperate for release, you resort to begging. There is no pride left, only carnal desire. 

“Please Joel, please, let me come, please,” you whimper weakly between sobs. “You can come wherever you w-want, my ass, my pussy, my m-mouth, all over me - just please let me come. I can’t take it anymore.” 

“That’s a good girl, begging so pretty,” Joel coos and slowly pulls out of you. He holds you steady as he feels you tremble. “Lie down, darlin,” he says softly and guides you on your back.

He kneels between your legs and puts one of them over his shoulders. He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in. “Look at me, baby,” Joel breathes. “Look at me when you come.” You moan softly as he brings you to the edge of your release in the matter of a few thrusts. “That’s it, angel,” Joel encourages you, his face hovering above yours. “Don’t hold back, I got you,” he nods. You arch your back as you reach your peak, a choked groan escaping your lips as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, baby. Wanna come all over you,” Joel groans, your walls contracting around him as he’s slamming his hips against your core with abandon.

“Don’t ruin the sofa,” you mumble between breathless moans. Joel chuckles into your ear and nibbles on your earlobe. “I guess I’ll just have to fill you up then,” he rasps, picking up the pace and sinking his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck.

He comes with a low, rough grunt as he spills himself deep inside you. His hips stutter and his whole body suddenly goes limp as he comes down from his high on top of you. You draw shapes onto his back with your fingertips and he hums into the crook of your neck. When he tries to pull out after a few seconds, you grab his ass to stop him. 

“No, no, no,” you protest weakly, “it’ll drip on the sofa.” 

“Alright, baby, no worries. Just hold on to me, can you do that?” Joel asks gently. “Hm,” you answer and wrap your hands around his neck. He maneuvers you from your back into a sitting position with you on top, then moves to stand with you wrapped around him. He carries you to the bathroom like this, making sure his cock stays inside you the whole way. 

He lets you down right in front of the toilet and you immediately sit down, so his cum doesn’t drip on the floor. “Join me, when you’re done, okay?” Joel murmurs as he kisses your forehead before stepping into the shower. You pee and wait a bit for more of his cum to trickle out of you, then step into the shower as well. 

You squeeze past Joel to stand under the water, wet your whole body and hair and squirt some of the peach scented body wash onto your loofah to scrub your body. “Let me do your back,” Joel says softly, then massages you from your neck down to your feet with the sponge as you apply your shampoo.

When you’re both done, you dry off with two of your fluffiest towels and go to put on your clothes. You get yourself a new pair of pajama pants and another oversized shirt and Joel puts the clothes he came in back on. 

“What do you want from Domino’s?” You shout from the bedroom. Time for pizza and Netflix.

---

“What the fuck,” you hiss as you see the new notification on your phone. “I fucking told you to leave me alone, what is so fucking hard to understand? Asshole.” You lean over the counter and stare at Simon’s messages. Wanna give you space, babe. But I can’t live without you. You put the leftover pizza in your fridge and slam the door.

“You alright, darlin’?” Joel asks as he’s suddenly standing behind you in the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorry, all good,” you murmur, turning around to face him and putting on the most convincing smile you’re capable of right now. You’re not fooling Joel for a second and you know it. When he gives you a sympathetic look, you can’t muster the strength to pull up the corners of your lips anymore. Instead, you look at the fuzzy slippers on your feet and sigh deeply. “It’s my ex,” you say quietly. “He started calling and texting me a week ago after no contact for three years and it’s really stressing me out.” 

Your eyes find Joel’s and you immediately feel sorry for bringing it up. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry,” you stammer and shake your head. “It’s not your problem. Forget what I said.” He closes the distance between you two and wraps his strong arms around you in a warm embrace. You put your arms around him and stroke his back. You can feel his heartbeat. 

“Why don’t I make us some coffee and we sit back down on your new, not-ruined sofa, hm?” He murmurs into your hair with a smile.

“Joel, I don’t-”

“We don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can just sit, drink coffee and not talk as much as you want.” His warm hands softly rubbing your back make you feel so safe. 

“Okay, thank you,” you mumble into his shoulder before letting go of him. You open a drawer and pull out a bag of cookies. “I got these for you if you want them.” You hold up the bag and Joel takes it with a furrowed brow and a curious smile. 

“How in the world did you know?”

“You honestly don’t remember?” You giggle. “You ranted about how much you love these for an hour when we got high a few weeks ago. They don’t sell them anywhere nearby so I ordered them in a specialty store online.”

Joel shakes his head and looks at you with his big puppy eyes. “You’re the best, darlin’. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead gently, then tells you to make yourself comfortable on the sofa.

You sit down and look around. Being here feels different. Your apartment looks the same as it did a few hours ago. Sure, the sofa and carpet are new, but there’s something else. You realize that it doesn’t bother you to have someone else in your home, in your safe space. It’s actually kind of nice to know someone’s here. 

“There you go,” Joel says as he hands you your cup. He sits down beside you and puts a bowl filled with cookies on the coffee table. 

You pull your feet up onto the cushion and say, “Thank you.” Joel puts his arm over the backrest and caresses the nape of your neck with his fingers. 

“You remember what I told you when you asked me to stay over on our first night together?” You ask quietly.

“I do,” Joel says softly. “You said you couldn’t and when I asked what you meant by that you said you didn’t wanna get attached.” 

“Sounds kinda mean now that I’m thinking about it,” you murmur. “You know it has nothing to do with you, right?”

“I know, darlin’,” Joel reassures you. “And I’ve told you from the beginning that I’m not gonna pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. We got a good thing going and as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I haven’t always been this way, you know,” you sigh and play with the hem of your shirt. “And I fucking hate that it was one guy that ruined everything,” you say dryly and stare into your black coffee. “It wasn’t a good relationship to begin with and we both made some bad decisions. I know that. So when I packed up a handful of my things and walked out of our apartment forever, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again. Until now.” You take a sip of your coffee and continue, “He apologized for the shit he did and asked me to meet him.”

“How do you feel about that? Him apologizing?” Joel asks, his calm tone of voice soothing your nerves. 

You sigh deeply and let your head fall back onto the sofa. “I feel like it’s a goddamn joke,” you scoff and throw your arm over your eyes. “I don’t believe a single word he says and he didn’t even really apologize, you know? He still doesn’t understand what he did. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.”

You lift your arm and turn your head to look at Joel. “I dunno which is worse.”

“It sucks that he’s not giving you the apology you deserve after hurting you. I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I just don’t understand why it bothers me so much, you know? I haven’t seen him in three years, I’m over it, so why does it still hurt so fucking bad?”

“Did you love him?” Joel asks and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You look into his big, sincere eyes and nod. “Yeah,” you murmur. “At least I thought I did.” 

“Well, there’s your answer, sweetheart.” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot,” you groan, embarrassed of your pathetic feelings and the way you’re behaving in front of Joel. Being this emotionally vulnerable is causing you physical pain. 

“Hey, stop that nonsense,” he objects immediately, scooting closer to you and pulling you against his chest. “You have a big heart, you have feelings. You’re allowed to feel hurt and you’re allowed to feel sad.” He kisses the crown of your head and murmurs, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Have you ever cut someone out of your life completely?” You mumble into his chest. 

“I have.”

“Do you ever think about them?”

“Sure I do,” Joel nods. “Not often, but yeah. It’s normal. Especially if they meant a lot to you.” 

“Hmm, I guess.”

You look up and give him a genuine smile before sighing and reaching for the remote. “Enough heavy stuff for today,” you say. “Let’s watch something. I can feed you cookies and scratch your back…”

---

“You wanna know what I like about you?”

“My old man fetish.”

He looks at you incredulously for a second, then starts tickling the soles of your feet in retaliation. “You’re such an ass,” he laughs as you try to wriggle away. You squeal and try to kick him off, but he’s got both of your ankles in a firm grasp. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, then pulls you closer. “C’mere.” 

You sit up and straddle him, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Joel puts his arms around you, his hands splayed on your back, instantly grounding you and providing a sense of security. 

He looks into your eyes and murmurs, “What I was going to say is that I like your honesty; with yourself and others. It’s a quality you should never give up on, even if it’s hard.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then looks at his watch. “I should go, darlin’. It’s been a long day.” 

You nod and let him get up to put on his shoes. 

“Joel?” 

He turns around and looks at you with raised eyebrows.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to go, that he can stay this time, but the words just won’t leave your lips. Instead you say, “Thank you for today, seriously.” You walk up to him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “You really helped me and made me feel so much better.” 

Joel doesn’t answer immediately as he tilts his head and studies your face. “I’m glad I could cheer you up, darlin’,” he coos and caresses your left cheek. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do, Joel. Thank you.” 

---

You open Simon’s messages and type in your reply before blocking him. 

Simon: But I can’t live without you You: Then die

---

Thank you for reading! 🤍 part 2 || part 4 || series masterlist

#fwb!joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #fwb!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller au #dom!joel miller #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fic #joel tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #alwaysmicado #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro boys #joel x reader #the last of us #smut

[itsjaywalkers]

a lil smth under the cut for u guys <3

part 2 part 3

"Potter, if you dare to step any closer, I swear I will knock your teeth out."

Potter halts his advancement as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, but Regulus remains tense, alert, shoulders stiff and hands itching to curl into fists. Maybe it's because he knows Potter more than enough after all these weeks of watching his matches and interviewing him after them. Weeks of listening to him brag, and taunt, and flirt shamelessly, despite Regulus always being set on retaining some sense of professionalism.

Maybe it's because of the way he smirks at Regulus' threat, or how he raises both hands in mock surrender, the gesture lazy and insincere.

Or maybe it's the fact that they're alone in the ring, even though Regulus should've left with his crew more than half an hour ago. And the fact that Potter isn't wearing a shirt, but he seems to be allergic to them, anyway, so it's not like it fazes him at this point.

That's what he keeps telling himself, at least.

"You can certainly try," Potter says with his hands still up, and offering a tiny shrug. "I don't know if I like your chances, though."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "You don't think I can fight you?"

"I don't think you can win."

He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff, and Potter's smirk seems to grow bigger at the sound.

"And why the fuck not?" Regulus questions.

"Because I'm a professional boxer, love," Potter explains, his voice patient, but there's a certain mocking edge in his words that makes Regulus grits his teeth. "I wouldn't be where I am if someone like you could touch me."

"Someone like me?" Regulus repeats a bit incredulously. He can already feel that one vein in his forehead starting to pop out.

James chuckles, shaking his head a little. He finally drops his arms down. "You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't. And I'm not sure I want to."

"C'mon, love—"

"Don't call me that."

"—you don't even know how to throw a punch."

Regulus blinks at him, not sure if he's heard correctly, and then he does a double take, barely repressing a derisive snort.

"Excuse me?" he murmurs. "Of course I know how to throw a punch."

"You think you know how to throw a punch," Potter corrects him, that infuariating smile still in place. Regulus is tempted to prove him how well he can actually throw a punch just to wipe it off his face.

"I mean, obviously I can't do it like you do, you're a professional athlete, for fuck's sake—"

"Oh, love, don't worry, I'd never hold you to my standards," Potter intervenes with a laugh, eyes shining with mirth. Regulus face is beginning to heat up, and he isn't sure if it's because of anger or something else. "I'm not talking about a boxing punch. I'm talking about a proper punch."

Regulus exhales loudly, fingers twitching. "Potter."

"Yeah?"

"I know how to throw a fucking proper punch."

Potter raises an eyebrow and he lets his gaze to go up and down the length of Regulus' body, slow and intentional. Regulus has a hard time not squirming, battling against his instincts to keep his face empty, to stop his thighs from pressing together.

"I bet you don't," Potter comments, once his eyes finally find Regulus' again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make breathing any easier. "You're too pretty to have been getting into fights."

Regulus is unable to suppress an indignant huff, cheeks coulouring at an alarming pace while his expression twists into a scowl.

"You don't fucking know me," he seethes, jaw so clenched it's slowly becoming painful. "You've got no idea of how my life looks like, or what I've done to get where I'm at."

Potter seems unbothered by the outburst. In fact, he kind of looks a little entertained.

"Maybe so," he concedes with a tilt of his head. "But I know you'd break easy."

Regulus' heart skips a beat. "I don't—"

"Just look at you," Potter goes on, staring him up and down once again. He still sounds slightly mocking, but there's something else in his tone this time. Something darker. "So fucking gorgeous. Holding yourself like you're goddamn royalty. You're feisty, and you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you'd fold embarrisingly fast against me, wouldn't you, love?"

Regulus gulps, throat suddenly so dry it feels like sandpaper. He tries to shake his head, but his body isn't responding, and when he opens his mouth to snap back, nothing comes out of it.

"You like to act all tough and cold and as if nothing can touch you, but if I were to lay my hands on you—"

"Potter," Regulus manages to spit out, but it sounds hoarse. Weak.

"Oh, you'd break so beautifully for me, right, love? You'd put a bit of a fight at first, because you can't help yourself, and I like that about you anyway, but you'd let go at some point."

"Potter," he tries again, and it sounds a bit sharper, but still too close to a whimper for Regulus' tastes.

"I'd fucking ruin you if you allowed me to, Regulus." His name makes him tremble, goosebumps breaking into his skin, and Regulus has to bite his tongue to stop an inappropriate noise from escaping. "I know you want to. You're really fucking stubborn, and you almost fooled me that first time, that's true, but one can only keep that facade for so long. I've seen how you look at me."

"And how do I look at you?"

"Like all those girls who can't ask me for an autograph without blushing, thinking of me when they have their hands between their legs," Potter responds, gaze so intense it makes Regulus want to scream. "Like your cameraman whenever I stand a bit too close to him, always shifting his body the slightest bit so his shoulder grazes mine. Like Lily whenever I'm between her thighs, and she's begging me to let her come."

Regulus almost gasps, burning with fury but also with something that has nothing to do with it.

The audacity of this man, really. Regulus hates him. Despises him, even. Him and his absurd amount of confidence that has no business being this attractive.

It's hard to pretend to be unaffacted. To pretend he doesn't feel a stab in his stomach by that last statement, by the thought of James and Lily being together, even though it's something he's known almost since the beginning. To act like he doesn't care, like he isn't fucking aching between his legs, wet and hot and desperate.

Regulus doesn't think he completely manages it.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," Regulus grinds out, digging his nails into his arms so hard he's sure to leave marks.

"And yet I'm not hearing you deny it," Potter sing-songs, still grinning widely.

"I don't like you," Regulus insists, raising his chin.

"But you want me to fuck you."

This time, a strangled sound, high-pitched and bordering on needy, manages to slip out of Regulus' mouth, and James shows teeth, that feral light that appears every time he wins a match shining in his brown eyes.

"You wish," Regulus says, trying to save whatever dignity he has left, trying to fix this stupid mistake, this amateur slip up.

"I do," Potter confirms with ease, and Regulus can't swallow properly with the knot he has stuck in between his vocal chords.

"Shut up," it's all that Regulus can get out, which is quite pathetic, but still better than nothing.

"That's still not a denial," Potter points out, satisfaction oozing of him and making Regulus see red.

"I literally can't fucking stand you. I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you that I don't want anything to do with you," Regulus snaps. "Besides, if so many people are tripping all over themselves for you, then I don't understand why you're not bothering them instead."

"Because I want you."

Regulus actually chokes after that, a gulp of air getting stuck in his throat and his heart beating madly between his ribs.

"No." He shakes his head, furiously, desperately, and takes a step back almost at the same time that Potter takes a step forward.

"Yes," the other man presses, undeterred. "I want you, Regulus."

"Potter. Shut up."

"I can make you feel so good, love. You need to stop depriving yourself."

"Potter."

"I know you've thought about it. About me. I'm sure you're thinking about it now, about how amazing I'd feel between your legs, on top of you. Inside you."

"Potter. Stop."

"I bet your underwear is fucking soaked—"

"James."

It slips, sneaking past his lips without Regulus' permission, going unnoticed until it's too late to stop it, or take it back. He has the silly urge to cover his mouth with his mouth, as if that'd be enough to erase the word, the power and implications that name holds.

The reaction is almost immediate.

James' pupils spread out, eating at his irises at a concerning pace. Regulus is so distracted looking at them, that it takes him a moment to realise James is advancing, rushing towards him like a man on a mission.

Regulus retreats, nearly falling over in his haste, doing his best to get as far away from the other man as possible. But James is faster than him, and his back ends up colliding against one of the pillars of the ring. James has his arms bracketing his head in a matter of seconds, and all of a sudden, Regulus is trapped. With absolutely nowhere to go.

"Get away from me!" Regulus exclaims, voice all wrong and wobbly, hands coming up to push at James' chest but not daring to touch.

"Say it again," James demands, completely ignoring him.

"What?"

"Say it again."

Regulus scoffs weakly. "I don't want to."

"Regulus."

"Get. The fuck. Away. From me."

"Regulus."

It shakes him to his very core, and he's helpless to the shudder that rattles his frame, to the way his eyes screw close, so very tight his vision fills up with shiny spots.

When he opens them again, a few moments later, he ends up meeting James' hungry gaze head on.

It destroys the last of his defences.

"James," he repeats in a whisper, heat coiling in his stomach at the other man's intake of breath.

"Again," James asks, almost demands, voice low and strained.

"James."

"Again." And it's a beg.

"James."

"Yeah," the other man mumbles to himself. "Yeah."

James leans forward, and Regulus feels like he's about go into cardiac arrest until James turns his head at the very last second, mouth grazing the lobe of his ear instead of his lips.

"I'll teach you," he tells him softly. Quietly.

"What?" he asks, hardly breathing and refusing to move a single muscle.

James huffs, and it's amused. "How to throw a punch."

"My brother already taught me," Regulus retorts with a roll of his eyes. "And he's better than you."

"Was better than me," James shoots back, and despite this being a topic that usually annoys him, always getting him all petty and defensive, it barely drags an irritated sigh out of him this time.

"Winning one match doesn't mean anything."

"Except that it does."

"No, it doesn't. Sirius' been unbeatable for literal years, and he's worked his arse off to get to where he is, and you'll never—"

"C'mon, love," James whines against his ear, and Regulus has to swallow a gasp. "I'll lend you some comfier clothes and I'll show you how to stand and some tricks, make sure next time I'm being too much of a prick you can shut me up nicely. Maybe you'll even break my nose."

Regulus bites his lower lip, refusing to allow the corners of his mouth to curl upwards. "That does sound good."

James chuckles, and Regulus doesn't acknowledge the way that sounds fills his chest with warmth.

"So? Okay?" James wonders.

Regulus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hopes he won't come to regret this, and sends a silent apology to his brother.

He opens his eyes.

"Okay."

#been thinking about them lately #and i couldn't help myself #besides i haven't written anything in like . 5 days #i was actually going insane #anyways this is severely unedited and it's almost 3am and im fucking knackered #so im sorry if it doesn't make sense #but well i tried #and i had fun which is what matters etc #boxer james agenda

[slices-of-naranja]

I desperately need to organize my thoughts but if I don’t get this out now I will forget it, so take some vague circular incoherent ramblings about Jason motherfucking Grace.

Jason Grace has this weird kind bluntness about him that I desperately need to study. He’s so normal in a fucked up way. Almost regular. Almost an Average Kid. Brutally honest and kind and pragmatic. He wakes up on a bus with no memory, holding hands with a girl, and he’s immediately like “What the fuck. Who are you people. Where am I. Who am I?” Doesn’t even try to play along to figure out what’s happening.

One of the first things he says to Leo is “You’re weird.” Just “You’re weird.”

Jason is judgy as fuck!! Like!! Such a judgmental motherfucker!!! “If Leo is his best friend, then his life is seriously messed up.” Like!!! What the fuck!!! Be nicer to the man you fall madly in love with!!!

He sees Mean Kid (monster) Dylan and immediately goes “fuck that dude.” (“Jason hated him instantly.”) He even mentally makes fun of the guy’s outfit!!! And he roasts the shit out of Dylan’s fucking shiny ass teeth!! He sees two girls being mean to Piper and he literally, despite not knowing where he is or why he’s there, tries to fight them!! And Leo is the only thing holding him back from immediately throwing hands!!

Mr. “I can’t even take Leo out for burgers bc he’ll set the restaurant on fire.” After the 1 (one) time Leo gets too excited and bursts into flame. (Leo not being able to control his powers as a consequence of finally starting to use them after years of repression is something i WILL be talking about another time)

Jason is a judgy, brutally honest bitch. Like, he’s kind and good natured and strong. But years of being raised by wolves, strict deadly Romans, and being praetor have made him a little bit harsh. Rough around the edges. Just a bit off. This is the dude who was like “hm. Yeah I know Nico’s ur boy but… world is ending. So.” He’s been raised to be pragmatic. Make snap judgements. Be harsh. Be deadly. Like, reading his PoV is so different from the fandom characterization.

Jason is wittier, snappier, and wayyy more regular teenage boyish than I thought. He just has that Roman Demigod Edge to him… the part of him that was trained to scream “MONSTERS! MIST! MAGIC! DANGER!!!” even when he had no memory. I need to study this boy so badly. He’s fucking fascinating.

Bc for all his judgement, he grows so quickly attached to people. Like, it doesn’t take long for him to be fiercely loyal to Piper and Leo and Camp Halfblood. I think that’s because they accepted and loved an imperfect him, and while Expectations were still there, expectations he’s been haunted by his whole life, they’re lesser. Bc Piper and Leo don’t know shit fuck about the mythical world. And the rest of the seven are just as strong and capable as Jason, so he has no need to lead. I don’t know. Jason Grace drives me crazy. Marching to his destiny like a good little soldier. No other options for a son of Jupiter. Have to be strongest, have to be praetor, have to lead a legion-

He loves Nico like a best friend. He adores and admires Leo’s wit and talent and smarts, something that is mentioned a lot in his POV. (While also pointing out Leo’s bullshit.) He envies and admires Percy’s strength. He loves Piper’s brashness and heart. He loves them all. I don’t know. He’s quick to judge but he’s even quicker to change his mind. I forgot where I was going with this. Jason Grace has always been a hero at heart and a soldier since age 4 and I think that’s why some people think he’s boring. He’s trained to be serious and stuff. We don’t get to see him goof around very much, except for with Leo, and Leo does most of the goofs. And I would love to know who Jason Grace, judgmental pragmatic kindhearted bitch, would be if he just got to be a regular teenager.

And I think that’s why he loved camp Halfblood. It gave him half a chance at being half normal. What’s one more big three kid? There’s no strict orders or rules to follow or shape him there. But unfortunately, Jason, hero at heart, soldier since age 4, trained to be selfless, trained to give everything up for the greater good, was never going to get a happy ending. Never get a chance at what Percy Jackson found. Being a demigod kills people. And Jason was one from birth, to his very core.

I think part of him would be relieved, at that. Knowing that Percy Jackson, hero with a happy ending, is someone he will never be. Never overcome or surpass. Yeah, it’s the exact reason they’re rivals, too similar to not be compared, yeah it hurts his pride and goes against everything he was raised to be, and yeah he’s had a few silent breakdowns over it, but there’s relief in knowing he’d never win. Being in Percy’s shadow at Camp Halfblood means he can be out of the spotlight. Die a hero’s death while knowing there is no other option. There’s peace in that.

Anyway New Rome represents heteronormativity and Camp Halfblood is Jason figuring out he’s gay. I will not take criticism.

#Jason grace my boy #you desevered so much better than how Rick treated you #the fandom too #you were never boring baby #pjo hoo toa #toa spoilers #hoo #Jason Grace #character study #Jason Grace character study #jason grace angst #kind of #I love Jason grace #heroes of olympus #hoo spoilers

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Anti-destiel Wank (sorry but I have to)

If you hardcore ship Destiel, please just scroll on by. Please.

Ok, I'm gonna get myself in trouble, I'm sure, but I gotta get this off my chest...

Destiel may be a perfectly fine ship,

but,

IT'S JUST A SHIP.

In the actual context of the show there IS NO ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL TENSION/RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN DEAN AND CAS.*

Full fucking stop.

Subtext can be interpreted in ANY WAY YOU WANT. It is subjective. You will find whatever you look for in it. Please stop waving subtext interpretations around as if they were objective facts, they aren't. Subtext, by its very definition, relies on implied meaning and understanding, this means it is a subjective interpretation of the media that varies from viewer to viewer. The inherent variations are what make it fanon/headcanon instead of canon.

If you see tension of that sort there and it makes you happy to postulate the what if, then go ahead, that is what fanon and head canon and fan fiction is all about. But if the fact that the tension you think you see isn't being addressed in actual canon makes you grumpy, maybe you need to take some of the fanatic out of your fanning. If you are beginning to think the show creators are actively trying to repress Dean's "true sexuality and feelings" because they are evil, you might need to consider that you've dug in too deep.

Because, like I ship wincest. Yeah, I said it. But I am aware that canon doesn't actually include any level of sexual or romantic (in the modern sense) relationship between Sam and Dean. Wincest is not canon.

Now, are Sam and Dean the real "love" story of the show? Yes, yes they are. That has always been 100% the entire point of Supernatural, the great love story of two brothers struggling to save the world together. It's about family and everything that means, but at its heart, it is about Sam and Dean WInchester. Not all kisses and cuddles and sex kind of love, but love nonetheless. Full stop.

Now, the fact that Destiel is such a popular ship is not surprising to me in the least. Jensen and Misha are two gorgeous guys who share a lot of chemistry on screen and off. And, it is canon that Cas loves Dean. That has been evident since Lazarus Rising (4x01) when Cas was introduced. Castiel's love of Dean Winchester has been his character's main motivation all along and culminated with Cas sacrificing himself to save Dean, after telling him that he loved him in Despair (15x18)

But Dean's main motivation has always been to watch out for his brother. And though Castiel became Dean's best friend, he still comes second to Sam. Nothing against Cas, he just isn't Sam.

So why are so many people so absolutely convinced that Destiel is so real within the context of the story?

Well, I'm pretty sure that it is the same reason that they are so opposed to the idea of wincest.

As we all know, incest is bad, mmmkay? Incest is probably one of the biggest, strongest, cultural taboos we have. So it makes perfect sense that the idea of two blood-related brothers having sexual or romantic feelings for each other is considered icky. It's so off putting that it is a complete no go for even fantasizing about for most people. And that's probably a good thing, tbh, incest should be taboo. But where does that taboo spring from? Why is it so deeply off limits? There are several reasons, but the two main ones are:

That incest can lead to inbreeding.

That incest too often involves molestation or rape of children.

Both of these are seriously bad enough that we all pretty much collectively agree to avoid incestuous relationships. But, do either of these two reasons really apply in the case of Sam and Dean?

The short answer is no. Primarily this is because they are fictional characters that are being played by unrelated actors. But to humor the objectors we'll look at it closer.

We can take the first one right off the table. As two cis men, neither of them is capable of becoming pregnant, so outside of the mpreg (male pregnancy) or gender bending subsets of fanfic tropes, this is not applicable.

The second reason only becomes an issue when talking about the characters earlier in their lives, pre-show or flashbacks. Weecest or teencest, or whatever, are things, but these typically have separate ship names for a reason, because even when dealing with fictional characters this squicks a lot of folks who are otherwise down with the wincest ship. So most content is tagged or labeled as its specific flavor, so anyone can find it or avoid it. But wincest that involves adult Sam and Dean (the specific pairing I'm referring to in this post) doesn't apply to the second reason listed above.

So there really is nothing morally wrong with Sam and Dean having sex with each other. I know that statement is going to bother a whole lot of people, but it is true. Just because something is taboo does not automatically make it morally wrong. Being gay used to be taboo in our culture, and is still taboo for way too many people, even though there is nothing morally wrong with homosexuality.

Now, I wasn't in the fandom back at the beginning of the show, but I've heard tell that the very first Sam/Dean fic was posted just a few hours after the pilot episode aired. A few hours, that's all it took for some highly motivated fan to type out a story where they were more than just brothers. The story is called Reunion. If you watch the pilot, even with your anti-incest goggles on, the chemistry between Jared and Jensen is palpable throughout. There is a reason the show lasted for 15 years, and that reason is that Sam and Dean just work on screen so well together. So if it only took one episode for that ship to be born, what did all the future destiel shippers do? Well I imagine they felt somewhat uncomfortable for the first 60 episodes.

Flash forward to season four and the introduction of Castiel. Finally there was another male character for fans squicked by the notion of sweet, sweet brother loving to focus on! Cas was clearly fixated on Dean more than Sam, which followed the plot since Cas had been instructed to rescue Dean from Hell. As it would turn out, the brothers were destined to be the meatsuits that Michael and Lucifer wore to the big prize fight to determine the fate of the world. Prepping Sam for Lucifer involved him consuming demon blood, which made most of the angelic host view him as an abomination, a factor that Cas had to learn to get past in his relationship with the younger brother. But Dean was ready to go right out of the box, no assembly required for Michael. Castiel, and many of his angelic brethren, as well as a lot of Demons, seem to be drawn to Dean in a way that they just aren't drawn to Sam. Is this fair? Hell no. But I mean, look at him! Jensen has sexual tension with literally everything he comes in contact with, people, food, his car, the man oozes sexual attraction. Don't get me wrong, Jared is a sexy fucking ball of sunshine, and our Sammy is a damned attractive man, but he tends to be more repressed and less openly sexual than his brother, so it is what it is.

Where was I going with this? That's a good question. I got a bit distracted, sorry. Oh right...

At its root, destiel is a reactive projection. There is undeniable tension between characters in the show. Since all of the main cast are male, that tension is highly homoerotic. The two main characters, who are undeniably emotionally enmeshed and co-dependent with each other (a very well established canon fact btw), happen to be blood-related brothers. Oh no! Where is all that tension coming from since we cannot admit or accept that it's coming from them? Ah ha! Here is a new male character that we like, yes, it is obviously coming from his interactions with one of the brothers, even though he wasn't in the first 60 episodes. Yes, it all makes perfect sense now, all that tension was merely foreshadowing.

I've read through all the destiel subtext posts. I've gone back and watched all the scenes they reference multiple times with the express purpose of finding destiel. I'm telling you it is just a fanon ship. Which is 100% fine and good, ship that ship, just stop declaring it more canon than canon, because it's not.

And if you don't like fictional incest, cool, cool, you don't have to. But the underlying sexual tension existed in the first 60 episodes prior to Misha being cast on the show, so it was coming from somewhere. And it'd be cooler if you learned how to scroll past people shipping wincest, like I'm sure you do for all the other weirdass, squicky shit that people post all over the internet. But if it makes your heart beat a little faster to imagine that Dean and Cas have eyesex but that Dean and Sam don't, that's fine. I think it's delusional because neither ship is actually canon and both are 100% A-Ok in fanon, and honestly Jensen doesn't seem to be able to control his eyes, which is not something anyone should feel bad about (it's fucking marvelous) but you do you.

*Castiel does love Dean. He confessed as much, but Dean did not reciprocate. What I am referencing is a mutual romance or attraction, which does not exist.

#anti destiel #anti destihellers #anti hellers #wincest #canon vs fanon #fandom wank #destiel wank #I've been sitting on & adding to/refining this post since Feb 2018 time for it to see the light of day

[seredelgi]

Sweet Punishment- pt.2

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Dom!Levi Ackerman x Sub!Fem!Reader, Levi Ackerman x You

summary: After Eren gets entrusted to Levi, you have a hard time adjusting to his late shifts and his change of behavior. You miss his touch and you miss the sex, but you want to be a good girl for him, so you try your hardest to repress your urges, until he busts you.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: dom!levi, dom!levi, sub!reader, smut, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, vulgar language, brief choking, degradation, dry humping (even though it's not very dry, if u know what i mean), praise kink, just a tiny bit, spit kink, I'm so sorry, but he turns me insane NO SPOILERS

word count: 3.5 k

a/n: ok so this was born bc I'm so not done with this man, and also I had a need to depict smut with him in that freaking white tee he's got on in s3 so yeah, enjoy.

Part 1

He’s been so stressed out lately. Things have changed a lot since Eren has turned out to be a Titan Shifter and has been entrusted to him. Levi comes back home so much later, so much more tired than he used to. You miss him like crazy, but you don’t wanna be a burden, too. He’s got so much in his mind, the last thing he needs is you acting like a baby and demanding more time from him.

This is what you get for being a soldier’s woman, after all. You knew this was part of it, you were already lucky enough to be with him regardless of his position. When you two met years ago he was cold, he was indifferent. It took months for him to admit that it was a facade, put up so that he wouldn’t get too attached. He ended up catching feelings anyway, and at that point, it was “better to keep you close and be able to protect you”- in his own words.

He likes his job. You know it and try to respect it, but you feel him slipping away recently, you feel him so distant and you really need him to make you feel loved. You miss his touch, his kisses, you miss being fucked. It’s been a while since you two last had sex, and being that the last time you tried to pleasure yourself you got taught a lesson, you were practically abstinent in every way. You spent endless days thinking about him, and you dreamed about sex practically every night.

But you can’t think to burden him with your flimsy desires when he’s got the fate of your people dawning down on his shoulders.

When he opens the door of the room that late evening he looks no different than he has in the last few weeks: cold, distant, absolutely worn out. He’s just got out of the shower, and he’s got that long-sleeved white t-shirt on that you love so much, but his black uniform trousers remind you that right now he doesn’t belong to you. You can see it in his eyes, two dark slits, probably still reliving the events of that day.

You’re on your bed, reading a new book as you wait for the oven alarm to go off. You’re starving, and by the looks of it, he is too.

He drags himself onto the bed, and you take a look at him while he takes hold of your book by the spine and closes it shut with one hand, putting it aside and crawling lazily on top of you, his face cradled in the curve of your neck, he huffs softly upon your skin.

It’s been a while since he’s dared to be this intimate with you, and even before that, he’s never allowed that to himself very often, always keeping everything inside, never asking for much. That’s what drove you to shut the hell up about your needs, you didn’t want him to think you’re weak.

You’re caught off guard by this sudden closeness, and you hum quietly into the silence that’s comfortingly surrounding you two right now. Your heart starts to pound a bit faster, but as he sweeps his hands underneath your shoulders to keep you closer you start to relax into his embrace. Who knows how long it’s gonna last, you better enjoy it.

You feel him breathe in your scent, and the kind of noise that he lets go after that takes your breath away and has your thighs squeeze together.

Keep it together, he’s just freaking tired.

“ You smell amazing” he purrs on your warm skin, sending shivers running down your spine as his fingers press ever so tenderly into your delicate flesh.

You chuckle nervously as you try not to focus on how low and husky his voice sounds right now, on how you can feel it reverberate from his chest through yours. He’s so warm, and that fucking white tee he’s got on is just too comfy not to feel the need to hold onto it desperately as you try to refrain from letting you get carried away with all of this.

“ You smell like you had to bark orders all day” you retort, keeping the conversation light even while you know the scent he’s emanating right now is enough to drive you wild.

“ Mhmm” he softly asserts, and his voice is so quiet that you think he’s probably dozing off, before you feel his delicate kiss pressing down on your shoulder, and you open your eyes wide.

It’s a chaste kiss, soft and gentle, and yet it gets your insides in a twirl to feel him press his lips on you while you’re wrapped against his body.

You hadn’t quite grasped how starved you were for him before realizing that one little kiss was enough to set your skin ablaze and have the cozy warmth in your lower abdomen starting to spread. It has never been that fast for you, never that immediate. You usually need some time to get in the right mood or some warming up to get ready. But right now you’re burning hot and desperate for him to keep touching and kissing you like that.

You can’t say that out loud tho, can’t be the whiny little girl that cries for attention as soon as she stops receiving it for a moment too long.

It doesn’t really matter tho, because just as his fingers press harder into your flesh he leaves another quiet kiss on it, and this time you can’t help but audibly moan, the sudden break of that cage of silence so unnerving that you bite your bottom lip, harshly dipping your teeth down on it as some sort of punishment for caving in so easily.

He pops his head up slowly, a kind of stunned expression painting his beautiful features. You feel your cheeks start to warm up underneath his scrutiny, his eyes finding yours big and full of lust.

“ You like this” he states.

You can’t tell if he’s amused by it. A few weeks prior you would’ve been sure that having you being ready for him so easily would’ve sent a proud spark glinting in his eyes, but right now his expression is as cold as it’s been all these past days spent longing for him, and you’re quite sure he must be kind of disappointed.

You shake your head no tentatively, wondering if you could ever look remotely believable as you find yourself hoping for.

His eyes narrow down on your features, on the crimson red of your cheeks, and your heavy breathing. Yeah, Levi might be tired, but he’s certainly not stupid.

He props up on his left hand anyway, letting his right one slowly slide underneath the sheer fabric of your sundress, along the length of your thigh, eliciting another soft whimper from you, and you feel so ashamed that you cover your mouth with your arm, your eyes languid with denial.

“ Then why you mewling like a cat in heat?” he sounds so stern that he almost feels displeased with you, and it kind of hurts to hear him talk to you like that.

Still, you feel the disconcerting need to be strong for him, to be good.

“ I’m just-” you pant, regaining focus, even though all that you really want is for his hand to travel further up your thigh “ a bit sensitive, must be the cycle”

You’re lying. You’re probably in the least fertile phase of it, but you can’t help it, you miss him too much, and having been forbidden to touch yourself, it’s been torture to resist the urges.

You doubt he’s bought it, yet his face is an inscrutable mask right now, and he looks down at you for a few more instants before he suddenly gets a hold of your wrists, pinning them down the mattress without much effort as you catch your breath.

He stares you down as if you were his prey, and honestly, too dizzy with arousal, too scared of letting him know the shameful truth of it, you’re less and less able to decipher his emotions, and somehow this only feeds your desire.

“ Spread your legs for me, then” he orders.

You hate to disobey him, but you’re too embarrassed of yourself to give him access to your sweet spot right now since you're sure he’s gonna find it already covered in your juices.

A glint of annoyance darkens his irises when you fail to comply. He huffs, his right knee slipping abruptly in between yours two, having you divaricating your legs wide within a few rough movements.

You muffle a protest, but it dies in your throat immediately as one of his hands lets go of your wrist and heads south, escaping underneath the skirt of your dress and reaching for your baby pink panties, feeling you out roughly through its fabric, finding it drenched.

“ Fuck-” his voice sounds hoarse from the shock of finding you like that already “ You’ve made a fucking mess”

You let out a quiet sob as you appraise his reaction, covering your eyes with the hand of yours he hasn’t gotten pinned down on the mattress anymore.

“ I’m sorry” you let out a shaky breath, unable to keep it all in any longer “ I’m sorry Levi, I just miss you so much”

You’ve held onto all that for weeks as he’s been burdening himself with who knows how much, and now it’s enough for him to touch you through your underwear to have you crumble like that. It’s kind of pathetic.

He stays quiet for a while, and you can only wonder what his face looks like as you keep your eyes shut against the back of your hand, not ready to see his harsh judgment of your weakness.

Then you feel his grip on your wrist loosen, and all his coldness and forcefulness melt into tender little kisses that he leaves down your neck as he reaches for your ear. He looks for your hand, sliding his fingers across the length of your arm and intertwining them with your own.

He uncovers your face to look at you, his expression still stern, but it doesn’t quite look like he’s judging you, more so than himself. You can see the cloud of guilt thundering in his eyes.

His lips are just a breath away from yours when he whispers down upon you:

“ Don’t cry” his tone is definitive, something like that, even if incredibly sweet, when said by him sounds like a precise instruction.

You sniff softly one last time before his lips press tenderly against yours.

He starts kissing you slowly, experimentally, giving you all the time you need to adjust from the previous harshness that he had addressed you to the sweetness that he’s promising you now. And even if reticent at first, you gradually start to melt against him, the feeling of his tongue slipping past your lips a welcomed revelation, one that you feel like saluting by filling his mouth with moans as he sets gently between your legs, his hardness aching against your core.

Gosh, you’ve missed this. You love the taste of him in your mouth so much that it’s almost exhilarating, the way he deepens the kiss at every little whimper you let out, the way your lips are glossy with his saliva when you part to catch your breath and ghost a little impulsive smile on his face.

You can’t help it now, you’re too high on the kiss he’s granted you, and you let your hips lounge up towards his, rutting softly against his erection, your fingers twisting in his locks, and you feel a blissful shiver cover you whole as he breaks the kiss to groan on your parted lips.

You want him so bad you feel like you’re losing control, and you love when he can’t help but be vocal about his arousal, so you’re compelled to continue grinding against him rhythmically, having him elicit all kinds of delicious noises on top of you as he kisses your lips with increasing passion.

Suddenly his right hand is at the base of your scalp, tugging harshly at your hair to have your head lean back enough to give himself better access to your exposed neck.

“ So fucking desperate ” he pants upon your skin “ how long have you been like this?”

“ Too long” you whine as you feel his lips tauntingly ghost above all the sensitive spots he knows so well, biting you tenderly at first, then starting to suck on your skin with euphoric compulsion. It’s the kind of sweet agony that has you sigh ecstatically and arch your back in response, the satisfaction of feeling his mark being imprinted upon you one that you find hard to rival.

When he’s done he leaves your neck pulsing in delight, and he starts grinding against you fiercely as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“ Been waiting for me to set you free, huh?”

You nod faintly at that, eyes fluttering underneath the weight of your thriving desire, and you kiss his humid lips before looking for the zip of his black trousers, tired of having all those layers interpose between your sexes. You wanna feel his throbbing skin against your hole, wanna hear your juices mix as he rides you.

“ Such a good girl” he praises you, and that’s just too much.

As soon as his cock’s free of his boxers you press him down against you with a tug, his nakedness clashing down the wetness of your panties. He grunts, closing his eyes, reveling in the feeling of your drenched underwear starting to surround his hotness. The simple shift of pressure makes you roll your eyes, and he reaches for your jaw with his right hand to press his thumb on your lips, silently demanding access to your mouth. You open it up right away, and he slips inside, letting you suck on his finger once and then brushing your bottom lip downwards with it, keeping your mouth open beneath him.

“ Wider” he commands, and it’s so clear by the tone of his voice that he’s used to imparting orders, so confident in expecting them to be followed. And you sure as hell don’t wanna disappoint him.

So you open your mouth wider for him, sticking your tongue out as he continues riding you, your juices starting to soak your panties, creating enough lubrification for you to start getting extremely close to your relief.

“ My good girl” he hums quietly, and seeing him genuinely pleased with you puts your mind at ease. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you’d comply with anything he asks of you just so that he’ll utter those quiet little praises to you.

He spits in your mouth, and you’re honestly taken aback for a split second. You wouldn’t expect someone as composed as him to do something so raw just like that. But as soon as you feel the warm liquid on your tongue you’re quick to swallow what you manage, driven by your desire to make him proud. Some of it is still drooling down your bottom lip tho, and his eyes shimmer down on it, relishing in the sight of you, broken by the growing pleasure, completely at his mercy.

“ Fuck- You’re too hot like that” he breaths down upon you as he reaches between you two, looking for the spot where your panties are becoming so damn wet that you should probably feel embarrassed, but you’re way past that. Especially when you feel his erratic movements finally setting your pussy free, moving the fabric that was still covering it to the side just enough that you can feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, hot and covered in pre-cum.

“ Ah-” you cry as you feel him finally pushing against your hole, every nerve ending of yours waiting for him to pierce through you and finally take you.

He slides inside of you with a gentleness that almost kills you, and you can quite literally feel every inch of his length fill your soaked pussy up like you’ve been dreaming about for days. You wanna feel him pick up the pace and quite simply ruin your cunt for good, but all it takes is one thrust of his inside of you, a simple gentle rub of his pelvis against your clit to bring you over the edge.

You start shuddering frantically against him, gripping at his shirt and crying his name so loud that you’re sure the walls could be shaking from it. You kiss his neck through your high, needing to feel him hiss against your ear in response, to bask in his scent, and to feel the flex of his muscles against your hot lips.

“ What's th- fucking 'cumming already?” he lets out, his voice broken by the shock of your pre-empted release “ my God, you're pathetic"

You nod dully, rolling your eyes as little jolts of pleasure unleash throughout your whole body, having you spasming silently against his torso as he picks up the pace, driven mad by the unexpected hunger that your orgasm has unleashed within him.

He’s thrusting so deep inside of you that you feel like he could break you in half, and yet you can’t stop moaning, can’t stop telling him how damn good he’s making you feel.

“ You’re so good at taking it-fuck” he resumes kissing your neck and biting you hard, leaving you sore and aching for more “ you’re made for this, made for me”

The idea has you rejoice, a proud kind of sentiment starting to engulf you as he smacks harder against your cervix, hitting that spot that has you babbling incoherently underneath his weight.

All that you’re feeling is thanks to your patience, you’ve been good and waited for him, and you’d do it for years if it meant being fucked like this was the prize.

You can’t help but nod, your head bobbing up and down under the heel of the merciless pace he’s been keeping up so steadily. You can practically feel every ounce of the frustration he’s held within him in the past few days being reversed in each thrust of his, in every grunt and spasm of his muscles as he pounds into you, and you’re so glad to be the one he vents upon.

You can feel him getting closer. He’s frantic, panting down on you, shoving inside of you with such force that you can’t even think straight anymore, the feeling of your aching pussy squeezing his cock inside of you the only thing you can focus on.

He rises above you to be able to get a hold of your neck, tightening his hand around your throat to make you look at him. You can’t think about what you may look like right now as you stare back into those dark grey irises you love so much. It’s too fucking embarrassing what this man is capable of reducing you to.

“ I’m gonna ‘cum inside of you”

It’s not a warning, it’s a statement.

You shift your weight back slightly to be able to open your legs wider as a reflex, eager to feel him finally releasing into you, but he grips your hips and dips his fingers harder into you, almost bruising your skin in the act.

“ Don’t- fuck, don’t move” he demands.

You don’t need to be told twice, so you stay put, looking up at him and contemplating the sight.

You love seeing him like this, sweaty and broken by pleasure, strands of soft raven hair cascading down his forehead, his shirt revealing just the faintest little hint of his muscles flexing underneath its clean fabric.

But his eyes are what you love the most, the kind of glare that can go from pure sweetness to downright threatening in a matter of seconds. Dark and dangerous.

You see them faltering before you hear his groans swamp the room and his warm seed spring into you, filling you up like you’ve longed so bad for these past few weeks, finally getting the love you were so badly burning for.

He crushes down upon you, a sudden need to feel you as close as possible, to have you press your usual gentle kisses across his face, on his lips, all while he holds you close and slowly regains his breath and usual composure.

When he slips out of you you feel your legs shake a little and you know you’ll need a full night of rest to recover from what he’s done to you, but it doesn’t really matter, ‘cause it was worth it.

He collapses aside from you, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you along to rest on top of him without saying a word. You chuckle faintly against his neck, not able to resist relishing this intimate feeling. You’ve finally got him all for yourself.

Until you hear the oven alarm go off.

#levi #levi ackerman #yet again #sorry #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #smut #imagine #female reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #spoiler free zone #dom!levi

[considerablecolors]

so anyways thinking about Muriel trying to learn more about humans and watching TV and such and how they would absolutely undeniably be OBSESSED with Bluey once they discovered it. how they would immediately feel connected to characters that are also learning more about the world around them everyday and being proud of themselves for slowly picking up on jokes for the older audience and such. which is a fun thought by itself. BUT THEN.

this brings to mind Muriel wanting to show Bluey to Crowley and Aziraphale (this takes place sometime after season 3 where they're all a family again), and Crowley's like "yeah everyone Below tried really hard to stop it from getting distributed in the US, big blow for us" to which Aziraphale replies "oh yes I spoke with the angel that worked on it, they got quite the promotion!"

anywho both of them try to get out of watching it because "it's a bloody kids show" and "I'm really not too fond of modern television" but Muriel is making puppy dog eyes so OBVIOUSLY they're gonna cave in eventually.

and at first they're not really paying TOO much attention, Aziraphale is charmed by the soundtrack and animation and Crowley does snort at "this isn't the eighties anymore" but like obviously they're not INTO it, they can just admittedly see why Muriel likes it. and then. AND THEN. THE BLUEY EFFECT.

pause. we all know of the Bluey phenomenon. like oh it's this kids show for babies like peppa pig to -> oh there's some fun jokes for the parents here the teachers really like it to -> oh god I'm a 22 year old mentally ill queer person who's been sobbing my eyes out on tiktok for ten minutes why didn't my dad ever love me.

something something the soft gentle tone of the show and its lessons combined with how honest and blunt they are about things combined with the kind and powerful parenting displayed by the main family. it breaks people. it heals wounds. it gets through to those repressed issues. we all know the bluey effect.

NOW. THAT'S FUCKING HUMANS. NOW IMAGINE THAT WITH THESE FUCKERS.

literally centuries worth of repressed trauma, NO emotional intelligence or awareness whatsoever, every mental barrier you can think of, literally mommy issues from GOD, and on top of it all, they're an angel and a demon right so obviously they don't need to worry about petty human things like "therapy" and "coping skills" and "talking through issues" and "boundaries" and ""self-worth"".

BLUEY WOULD FUCKING BREAK THEM.

like oh yes this is a charming show but I'm not sure it's quite for me and then BOOM. Aziraphale gets hit with "there's something going on with me" "does your outside voice sometimes say yes when your inside voice says no?" "I don't think I know how to relax" "I just... felt like I was doing everything wrong"

like wow angel are you actually crying over cartoon dogs you're so emotional and then BOOM. Crowley gets hit with the "you don't need to keep coming back to this place" "he should take care of himself because I still need him" "now you've got all that upset and angry in your hands- do you want to keep it?" "why can’t she just have the thing she wants?"

ALL OF A SUDDEN MURIEL LOOKS UP AND OH MY GOD I MADE MY DADS CRY I'VE NEVER SEEN THEM CRY BEFORE OH NO OH NO WHAT DO I DO UMMM NINA MAGGIE PLEASE COME TO THE BOOKSHOP I THINK I BROKE THEM ON ACCIDENT

i'm just saying if aziraphale and crowley had been blueypilled before then maybe there would've actually been some fucking nightingales ok.

#this is possibly my most unhinged post to date but do you SEE the vision. #“i wrote a 'characters watch good omens' fic” WELL WHAT IF I WROTE A GOOD OMENS CHARACTERS WATCH BLUEY FIC HUH. WHAT THEN. #bluey #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #Crowley #muriel #aziracrow #good omens 2 #cc speaks

[charmac]

Do you have any headcanons on macs experiences with men while he was in the closet? (Prior to Charlie catches a leprechaun) do you think he went to gay bars/did things w men or do you think he was too deep in denial and repression? I always love hearing your takes on the gang!

Ooo good question. Honestly I believe he's been hooking up with men since Season 8 when he was really, deeply repressed and was able to be gay with genuinely thinking it wasn't gay at all.

i.e. I believe 100% the gag in Charlie and Dee Find Love was that Trevor was fucking Mac, but Mac actually, genuinely believe that was considered wrestling. (The Maniac showed him that move...which begs a question...)

And to support my claim, Mac openly just -going for it- with Dennis in Recycles their Trash kinda proves he's not even registering what he's doing is gay/inappropriate/out of place, like yeah this is a thing that feels good that I'm gonna do.

To me, Season 8 establishes that he was clearly just kind of falling into gay situations that he didn't see as gay because there was some 'manlier' aspect behind them (wrestling and, uh, celebrating with your buddies, I suppose?). I like the idea that, you know, if he shuts up he's pretty cute, he's dumb, and he's very into complimenting men, so it's not far off to assume that when he wasn't with the Gang and doing his own thing, he was -falling into guy's laps- so to say, just by way of his existence... Things like Mac Day expose him where he's just greasing up guys on the side...very manly, nothing gay, he's popping boners but it's not gay because it's muscles and competition and that's too manly to be gay. And if any of those guys every noticed his boner and decided they needed a massage a little lower, or maybe needed to test his strength pumping, or his jaw.. well, that's just all part of making sure they're in top shape, and they're giving him some fitness tips in return, that's so nice

I think Season 10 threw him back into the actual seeking these things out life when he wasn't so repressed he was blind to what's gay (S8), he was having genuine gay experiences just off the street, in his various male-dominated situations (S9) but he's still too homophobic to admit what he wants. Misses the Boat pushed him over the line, probably... He used to be a party boy, but he gave that up for Dennis... He doesn't go out to clubs or bars anymore because that's harder not to see as explicitly gay until he does. He has to pretend to like being with a woman and now, it's impossible. It's impossible to ignore he's not into it, and he's opened a door to a lifestyle where Dennis has told him they won't ask any questions. (Not to mention he's now living in Dee's living room, with Dennis, Dennis who keeps rejecting his advances, almost on top of him. He's got no space to himself, but clubs and bars.. well that's a really easy place to meet someone that's willing to take you back to their place, since you don't have your own...)

Why do you think the Suburbs were so hard for him, alone, isolated, a sexless marriage with Dennis... he's so pent up because he's gotten used to something...

In summary: I imagine Leprechaun wasn't his first gay bar experience, or his first experience at the Rainbow, but I think 11 was probably the Season (maybe end of 10, probably right before) that he started going out fully, intentionally. But for years before that he was just so clearly gay, yet repressed, that he was constantly getting himself into gay situations organically, at first unknowingly gay to him, then it slowly wore into his thick skull that he's gay and this is all gay and it, well, feels too good to stop...so keep on leaning in...

#iasip #mac mcdonald #i love mid seasons mac's journey hes so stupid and repressed and gay #wrestling its just wrestling! #if you guys dont start greasing up beefcakes right now #i used to be a party boy #no questions #(which. dennis did promise after all) #gay mac rules #ask

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

Let's do soup.

A lot of people have been talking about how soup is doing some symbolic lifting in this season, but I've gotten really stuck on this scene in particular. Ed doesn't know that Hornigold is his own subconscious yet, but he confronts him about a time that Hornigold killed a member of his own crew (hey Ed are you maybe feeling bad about something?) and Hornigold gives him three options for dealing with all the horrible shit he's seen, done, or been unable to stop.

The first option is just "move on, you gotta move on." Or, in other words "toughen up, who cares that you feel bad about it, just lock that shit up and get over it." Ed got this advice a lot in season one. Izzy told him "the love of a pet makes a man weak" and Calico Jack told him "what kind of pirate has a friend, we're all in various stages of fucking each other over." It seems like this is just what pirates do. Frenchie starts out this season talking about how he bottles it all up. It's a stand in for all the toxic masculinity and repression that the show enjoys unpacking - in Hornigold's mind, if feelings can't rebuild an abdominal wall, they're useless.

The second option is "blow your brains out." It's become pretty clear at this point that Ed is trying his best to get someone angry enough to kill him. In season one, Ed is told repeatedly that dying is what happens when you fail to do option one. When Izzy says, "the only retirement we get is death," that's what he means. Ed can't retire, can't stop being a pirate, can't do things differently. He has to tread water until he drowns. When Izzy says "Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard, not Edward. Edward better watch his fucking step," he is telling Ed to toughen up or die. At this point Ed, unimpressed, asks "Those are the options?" Hornigold does his little bup-bup-bup thing where he weighs them in his hands and says "Or, we could just make some soup."

Ed says "Yeah, soup. Let's do soup."

The third option is "soup." Soup can mean a lot of things - it's warm, it's nourishing, it's what you eat when you're sick. The show has been tying it to the crew of the Revenge by having them continually eat soup and talk about how great it is (Notably, in the scene above, Olu asks Yi Sao if she's really a soup seller and she says "Not exactly.")

What does "make some soup" mean for Ed? I think, above all, it's a third option in what has been an inescapable dichotomy of "be tough or die." The first person to break this dichotomy in the show is Stede, when he refers to piracy's culture of abuse and says "And my thought is, 'Why? And also, what if it weren't like that?'" before encouraging his crew to talk through their feelings. To the surprise of literally everyone, that works. The crew of The Revenge took the space that Stede gave them and built a family inside of it. They gave Ed the idea that maybe "tough it out or die" aren't the only two options, and he's still thinking about it even now.

Making soup is also work - Ed's going to have to deal with the fact that he tried to torture his crew into killing him - but it's good, useful work. It could be a metaphor for the kind of work you have to do to repair relationships with people you've hurt. The first thing Ed does in this episode is refuse the soup that Hornigold is giving him. It's poison, he doesn't want it.

So, I'm wondering if there's going to be a moment later in the season where Ed either literally makes soup or accepts it from someone else, and whether that will be Important To His Arc in some way.

Also, I'm really craving soup, so.

#hey what if I spent my entire evening writing a meta about soup #my nonsense #our flag means death #my brain just wouldn't let go of SOUP #ofmd meta #ofmd s2 #this is all actually meaningless and david jenkins is just in the pocket of Big Soup™ #edward teach #our flag means soup

[thisisallthehattersfault]

I tend to forget about Hua Cheng’s crippling self-image issues because Xie Lian is dehydrated over the man and it shows, but

Queerplatonic Xianle Quartet where HC is mostly fine around Xie Lian with his real face -- Gege loves him and loves the way he looks and sometimes remembering that is harder than others but he’s working on it and his god is always there to remind him when he stumbles -- and like, Xie Lian’s opinion is literally the only opinion that matters, so fuck everybody else. Gege likes his face. You can all deal.

Only then without him even realizing it had happened, suddenly Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s opinions do matter and he still hasn’t realized that he’s started to actually care about those idiots but he has noticed that he’s deeply uncomfortable wearing his real face around them recently. All those Oh My God I’m A Hideous Monster thoughts come bubbling to the surface and he can’t stand that he’s been walking around with his actual face out around those two this whole time.

Obviously Hua Cheng starts shifting around the two of them more and more often (It doesn’t have anything to do with them he just likes shifting shut up) and then he runs into a whole brand new wave of weirdness, because he’s used to making his forms look dangerous, seductive, dripping with sex appeal. Only, he doesn’t want Feng Xin or Mu Qing to think he’s fuckable? He doesn’t want to bang them, and he knows they don’t want to bang him. What he wants is for them to think he looks... nice? Dependable? Like he’d give good hugs?

Suddenly Hua Cheng is experimenting with forms that have kind eyes and friendly, open faces and layers of softness over muscles like iron, and Mu Qing and Feng Xin (who also Definitely Do Not Like Him And Don’t Care About Him What Are You Implying Shut Up) are suddenly having the absolutely fucking bizarre experience of wanting to snuggle Crimson Rain Sought Flower.

Feng Xin has an absolutely awful day and walks into a room to see Hua Cheng’s newest version of a papa bear form, big and broad and soft and strong, and he genuinely has an out-of-body experience over how badly he wants to just. Kind of burrow against his chest and stay there until everything is softer and smaller and quieter and farther away.

Mu Qing sees Xie Lian and Hua Cheng snuggling -- Hua Cheng’s newest form is this tiny, curvy, busty lady with a round face and big dark eyes and soft soft hands, perfect for squishing and squeezing and holding like a stuffed animal -- and he just seethes with jealousy watching Xie Lian sink his fingers into her soft soft skin and nuzzle into her soft soft shoulder. He has the thought of I bet she’d be so nice to cuddle and then he has to walk away because fucking What??

Of course this all eventually culminates in something happening and Feng Xin and Mu Qing get their shit rocked and Hua Cheng shows up in his true form to help them out, at which point we somehow get the reveal that they already associate his actual face with support and security and comfort because they know he has their back and he does not need to squeeze himself into different shapes to appeal to them. We like you for you, idiot. Yeah, really. We were shocked too.

Xie Lian through all of this is living his best life getting to squeeze and squish and cuddle with all of San Lang’s new forms and also getting to fuck them because unlike FengQing Xie Lian is sexually attracted to Hua Cheng and damn if these new bodies aren’t extremely excellent to play with. His favorite is still true form though. He’s a sucker for the classics.

Anyway tl;dr touch starved emotionally repressed idiots discover they have a nonsexual crush on their childhood best friend’s husband, said husband does the nonsexual equivalent of walking around in just a bikini, in the end everybody cuddles about it.

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hua cheng #mu qing #feng xin #xie lian #hualian #xianle quartet #uhhhh is there a poly tag for these four? #hualianfengqing #??? #Xianle quartet poly #queerplatonic #queerplatonic ships #honestly a large chunk of this idea is rooted in my desire #to play around with the concept of attraction #we so frequently reduce attraction to fuckability #like either you want to sleep with someone or their appearance means nothing to you #and thats just so boring!!! #you don't need to want to bang someone to find them nice to look at #and you can find different things nice to look at in different people #depending on the type of affection you have for that person #the traits I find sexually attractive are not necessarily #the traits I find romantically appealing #and vice versa #also I. Want these boys to hug each other and this is an excuse for exactly that #anyway self indulgence thy name is not alice

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Hiii Juju 💕💕💕

I hope you’re having a lovely day/night! 🥰

One thing I wanted to ask you is something I’ve been thinking about and I wanted your opinion:

If they’re going to pursue buddie why aren’t they being more direct (I.e. explicit) about it? For example, with the kissing scene when I first watched it I thought Tommy was going to tell Buck that he didn’t mean to intervene in whatever Buck and Eddie have going on, (I.e. Tommy thought Buck and Eddie were dating) which could’ve made Buck realize his feelings for Eddie that way. I guess I’ve seen stuff about how you have to meet characters where they’re at and maybe Buck and Eddie aren’t there yet? Also maybe that just wouldn’t be as interesting for TV?

What are your thoughts?

-❤️🪐

Hi Saturn!

Thank you for always thinking of me. Honestly speaking, I do think they are trying to move ahead in a subtle way however, they are simultaneously still making it known to the audience that Eddie and Buck are connected in a massive way. What I mean by that is yes I get it. You may not find it to be explicit in any way shape or form. However, there’s a lot of questions that arise when you have one episode of Buck really trying to get Eddie‘s attention but ending the episode with Tommy and telling Tommy that he was trying to get his attention. When we know after watching the episode, most of the time Tommy wasn’t even there or a part of the scene for him to be getting his attention. Like the whole conversation with Christopher wasn’t even about Tommy per se. It was about the fact that he’s upset that Tommy is coming around on his turf and winning over the kid that he kind of sees as his own. And Tommy wasn’t even in the fucking gym at all so I don’t know how that could be about him getting his attention. Every scene had a mention of Eddie somehow some way. And he seemed more focused and worried over lying to Eddie than anything else really.

Like even when he came out to Maddie and he was all talking about how he can’t stop thinking about Tommy. What did she take away from that conversation??? Oh Buck being confused and not knowing what he’s really feeling but he will eventually tell Eddie what he’s feeling on his own time. Like there’s this underlying focus on Eddie that it really makes one stop and really ask themselves “why is this guys best friend such an important fixture in his romantic life?” And idk if I’m just watching and perceiving things differently than most but like even Eddie’s storyline with the whole religious guilt and all that is pretty much setting things up for him to possibly explore his own repressed feelings and bring forth secrets he’s probably held close to his chest. Really open up that avenue as to why he married the first girl he ever slept with and why he’s always looking to nest with a woman who’s interested in him but not really the perfect fit for him. So yeah sure it could be more obvious if they just had Buck and Eddie kiss but like let’s be real, it wouldn’t be really all that satisfying. Remember Oliver said Buck would have to really fight for his next partner and who better to fight for than his longtime partner? I think they are finally finally allowing these men to really explore the part of themselves they hadn’t really think about before and it’ll come along together as we see the remainder of the season. Let’s also remember Tim said he wanted to see how the fans react to these episodes to see how he moves forward. So who really knows what’s gonna happen in the last five episodes. But I’m excited for drunk buddie karaoke and other shenanigans. And maybe Eddie finally seeing Buck with another man when he knows about his interest in men can be eye opening for himself.

#juju answers #steadfastsaturnsrings #buddie #911 spoilers #911 speculation #wow this was long sorry

[pollenallergie]

Some Older!Tom Grant x Reader Headcanons

Description: Exactly what the title says. (I’m lazy).

Warnings: Terrible attempts at using British/Cornish slang, some American-isms may have wormed their way in here, swearing, and smut is implied (and also sort of mentioned?? a male orgasm is mentioned, but that’s it). I think that’s it, but let me know if there’s more warnings that I should’ve listed here. 18+ only!! If you’re a minor, go away, do not read this!!

Word Count: Who cares? Just read it. (Again, I’m lazy).

A/N: I’m using a gif of Michael from Hoard because, in my opinion, that’s what older!Tom looks like.

You were the one that got away.

Tom met you when he was 18, while you were on vacation with your family at the caravan park.

You two hit it off and became great friends despite having only known each other for about a week.

You liked Tom as more than a friend, and he sort of felt the same way about you… sort of. Things were complicated because he was still hung up on his recent breakup with Ruth. Had he met you under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve fallen head over heels in love with you before you could’ve even said hello, but he didn’t. No, Tom met you while recovering from his first heartbreak, when he was still in love with his ex despite all she had put him through. He wasn’t ready to experience the kind of feelings being around you gave him, so he pushed them down, repressed them, smothered them, and pretended like they didn’t exist.

You’d managed to summon the courage to ask Tom out on a date on your second to last day at the park, and he’d declined. You’d thought he felt the same way. He'd been flirting with you ever since he first met you, and you’d done your best to reciprocate despite the fact that, back then, you weren’t used to flirting (nor being flirted with). But then he rejected you, leaving you to high tail it back to your caravan so you could lick your wounds and helplessly wonder if you’d misread the signs. Had he even been flirting with you at all?

Tom had been flirting with you but never with the intention to act on it. He never figured that anything would become of it anyway, never figured you were actually interested; Ruth wasn’t, so why would you be?

In retrospect, he sees how daft he was being. Ruth wasn’t interested in him because she wasn’t interested in men at all. What happened with Ruth wasn’t a personal slight against him, even if, at the time, it truly felt like it was. He was young, and he was hurt, and, frankly, she’d gone about the whole thing pretty poorly. Granted, she was young too.

Anyways, Tom was young and hurt, and he thought he was utterly unlovable and undesirable. So, he figured you only reciprocated his flirting to keep yourself entertained whilst you were so far away from home. You certainly wouldn’t have been the first tourist to give one of the guys at the caravan park that treatment.

When you’d asked him out, he’d been so taken aback and unprepared that he’d let you down quickly and, admittedly, not as kindly as he should’ve. All the years that have passed since then, and he still remembers exactly what he’d said, “What? Oh, er, nah. I’m alright. Thanks though. I’ll see you round, yeah?” Then, like an even bigger idiot, he’d run off under the guise of getting back to work. That memory continues to haunt him on nights when it’s hard to get to sleep, along with every other embarrassing fuck up he’s ever made in his life, of course.

Your friendship had fizzled out that very afternoon, and the two of you never even said goodbye when you left the park to return to your home country. You never spoke after that summer either, even though you’d exchanged contact information earlier on in your holiday, before that fateful afternoon.

Tom has spent years regretting the way things ended between the two of you. Mostly, he wishes that the two of you could’ve remained friends. However, there’s always been a part of him that’s been disappointed in himself for ruining his shot with you.

Fourteen years later, Tom miraculously gets a chance to redeem himself.

You move to the UK — Cornwall, specifically — for your new job, and, as luck would have it, you move to the very same town that Tom moved to after he left his work at the caravan park behind.

One morning, whilst working on a construction site across the street from your new job, Tom spots you carrying some supplies into your office. He can’t believe his eyes. You look almost exactly the same, albeit a bit more mature, with some more lovely curves as well, but with the same kind eyes and the same beautiful smile.

Tom can’t help himself; he has to go over to you and say ‘hi’ to you, at the very least. So, when he catches you leaving your building for lunch, he jumps on the opportunity, sacrificing the last fifteen minutes of his lunch break to talk to you.

He manages to convince you to come out to dinner with him at a nearby pub, framing it as two old friends catching up. Although, the lack of a ring on your finger sure gives him hope, more hope than it probably should.

What started as dinner, a quick chat and a bite to eat, turns into staying at the pub til the bartender calls out five minutes to closing time.

The two of you are drunk on cheap beer and ale, with your stomachs full of greasy pub food, and Tom, ever the gentleman, insists on walking you home.

When the two of you arrive at your new place, you insist that he stays the night, refusing to let him walk back to his place in such a state. He’s fully prepared to stay on your sofa, but, in your inebriated state, you seem to think it’d be better if you both just slept in your bed together. In his own inebriated state, he finds that offer impossible to refuse.

Nothing happens between the two of you that night; even drunk off his arse, Tom’s still respectful, insisting that he sleep in the same jeans and t-shirt that he’d worn out to the pub and, much to your chagrin, putting as much distance between you two as your bed will allow. However, the next morning, Tom takes a big risk and asks if he can kiss you before he leaves to go back to his own place. The eager nod and shy smile that you answer him with makes his heart soar.

If you ask Tom, that kiss was well worth the wait. However, if he could turn back time, he’d still have rather gotten his shit together back in ‘09 and kissed you then; then, he could’ve just been kissing you the whole time these past fourteen years.

After the two of you reluctantly pull apart, Tom asks if he can take you on a proper date sometime soon, maybe to get some dinner at a fancy restaurant or something like that. You agree, but only on one condition: Tom takes you to the spot in town with the best food, no matter how fancy or not-so-fancy it may be. He agrees.

Your first “proper” date ends up being at that very same pub, though this time, you two do much less drinking and catching up, and a lot more eating your weight in greasy chips and bantering.

Tom’s still just as cheeky as ever; you’d figured that out the first time you went out with him, but you get to see even more of that on your first date. He holds doors open for you, partly because he’s a gentleman and partly because it gives him a good opportunity to take a geek at your arse. Once he’s given the green light to touch you, he never really stops touching you. The whole night, he has a hand resting on your thigh or lower back, or an arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist so that he can subtly tug you closer to him. He lays the compliments on thick, too, but in a way where you can tell that he really means them, that it’s not just baseless flattery.

Tom’s also incredibly sweet and genuine, too, asking questions about your work, your family, your friends back home, etc. He asks if you’re settling in alright here in Cornwall, so far from where you’re originally from. He offers to show you round the town, show you where all the essentials are, like where to get the best produce, and to show you which places are nothing more than tourist magnets and which are actual local-approved spots. He talks about himself, too. He tells you about his mum, how he moved here so that he could be closer to her, so she wouldn’t have to be alone. He talks about his housemates: his mate, Callum, from primary school, who’s hardly home enough to truly be considered a housemate, along with the dog he (Tom) recently rescued and the stray cat that just sort of showed up one day and turned himself into a housecat. He pays for everything, always having some cash out and ready before you can even reach into your purse to get your wallet. He walks you home again, of course.

Tom ends up staying the night at yours again. Although, this time, it’s not because you think he’s too drunk to walk home. No, this time, he winds up in between your sheets for an entirely different reason, and he certainly doesn’t leave any space between the two of you this time around.

The next morning, Tom wakes up before you, as he’s used to waking up at 4:30 for work. By the time you wake up, he’s made breakfast, the closest he could get to a full spread with the stuff you had in your fridge (it’s basically just eggs and toast). You two eat breakfast together, and you find out that he’s still an adorably messy eater. He cleans up after himself well, though.

In fact, Tom doesn’t let you help him clean up at all, doesn’t let you touch a single dish because, according to him, he can’t, in good conscience, let you lift a finger after the way you made him cum last night. “You deserve the Nobel prize in shaggin’, love. I’m serious. I mean, I was seeing stars afterwards ‘n everything. You’ve gotta, at least, let me make you a ‘thank you’ breakfast and clean up after meself. ‘S the least I can do after that,” He says, like the dork that he is, before planting an emphatic kiss on your forehead.

He leaves a couple of hours later to go check on The Lads™, but not before asking you to come round to his place sometime next week so that he can make you “the best fucking lasagne you’ll ever have in your whole life. Seriously, it’s me mum’s recipe. It’s fuckin’ amazing. You’re gonna love it.”

#older!tom grant #tom grant #tom grant x reader #older!tom #tom grant smut #tom grant (make up) #make up (2019) #tom grant headcanons #tom grant hcs

[mulberriesandtea]

A VERY DISORGANIZED AND WEIRD MESS OF THOUGHTS THAT ARE ALL RELATED TO THE SODA EGO SOMEHOW

So wellcheer's story is like, this employee getting drugged and taken aboard a ship, and eventually coming to enjoy his work there, finding it better than working in the city. In general this reads to me as the escapist fantasy of the employees, wanting something that's more fulfilling, more satisfying, hoping for a change. While I think Hong Lu having it is somewhat self explanatory, I think we need to consider Ryoushuu as well, since both can provide context for one another. I will also bring up the fact that someone pointed out they could correlate to the types of work that give grape wellcheers, those being attachment(being kind and friendly) and repression(denying the abnormality in some way)- which I didn't quite agree with at first, but I think I understand better now that yes, it's likely. With that out of the way~! Let's talk about Hong Lu, since he's the one we understand the most about! These are not clean sections by the way. They're ramblings of a mad man.

"Tadaa~ Transformation complete! Hah, we've a boatload!" 

- Hong Lu Awakening

I think Hong Lu's is specifically meant to represent denial as his form of escapism. He denies anything that happens to him, and instead focuses on other things. We can note that Hong Lu seems to enjoy film in some way, and often mentions boredom and 'entertainment.' Not to mention Land of Illusion(I stare at the 5 gloom cost good fucking lord). Yah. Anyways, his magical girl transformation is an obvious reference to well, magical girl shows. Y'know, the kind of shows you watch and go 'man I'd love to be just like her" at least according to people. Understanding that, as well as pointing out that in both his Dimension Shredder and his Roseate Desire he seems a lot more overtaken by the abnormality than Yi Sang and Ishmael respectively in their awakenings(Yi Sang at least has both arms and Ishmael seems really not to be having a fun time), I think I can safely say that I think Hong Lu being on the boat is quite literally him fully accepting the fantasy of it. Have any of you method acted before? I have done it before, but not correctly, and I'm easily swayed by the emotions and thoughts of the characters I overtake, it's incredibly hard to maintain a divide between 'yourself' and 'your character' if you don't properly understand yourself- I mention this because it's quite literally what the Sinners do. I know this seems random to bring up but I hear me out here. I think it's clear that method acting wise, Hong Lu gets much more lost in his roles than the other sinners- I'd argue Canto IV especially shows this. Some of the others seem to also have trouble with Canto IV's play scene, but I believe the difference between that and their EGOs is how prolonged it is. Hard to explain, but yeah, Hong Lu quietly gets much more lost in his roles and it really does show in his EGOs- which is likely part of the escapism of it all. TL;DR I think his thing is denial, and as such, he represents the Repression half of the Wellcheers Grape Soda, and the reason he's on the boat is that he's *fully* invested in the EGO.

...Someone more into method acting should explain it better and see how it works within the context of EGO.

"Go on, open wide. Relax and cram this drink down your throats, heheh." 

- Ryoushuu Awakening

And that brings us to Ryoushuu, who I think represents the Attatchment side. And that might sound really weird at first. Why is the friendly one who seems to be more open with everyone Repression and the one who quite literally would attack other people and seems much more distant from everyone else despite it being several months now be Attachment? I'll explain more in Hong Lu's corrosion section. Anyways Ryoushuu! I think, in a way, her EGO, and the fact it's Zayin, is rather important- I'm still not quite sure on that aspect outside of 'it is really notable Gregor and Ryoushuu have Zayin EGOs.' I think her form of escapism is much more external than Hong Lu's- of course there's her tendency to smoke, but there's also her tendency to get obsessed with her art- and I think the fact that art is often heavily affected by the emotions of the creator is important. Art's a form of venting in a sense, but the way Ryoushuu does art she forces other people to deal with her problems. It's hard to explain gosh. Basically, she's very much ignoring her problems by creating art- she's not solving the root problem, she's not actually understanding why she's feeling that way, she just doesn't deal with it. THIS IS SHORTER THAN HONG LU'S SECTION BUT IN MY DEFENSE-

"The seagulls... They keep crying and screaming away...!" 

- Hong Lu Corrosion

So yeah these two. Ryoushuu's based on a man who committed suicide after the death of his daughter(who we know is dead in Limbus too, Fourth Match Flame and Red Eyes very heavily imply that, not to mention how Ryoushuu reacts to Outis during Hell's Chicken) and very much so has self-destructive behavior(said staring directly at Indiscriminate Art, which passive wise is exactly the same as Self-Neglect, and her smoking habits), while Hong Lu seems to very much have a persona of being cheerful and oblivious to the point of where it's very hard to tell if he's being genuine or not(The one potato joke in Hell's Chicken)- a persona that has not cracked yet in story, even when Faust attempted to break it with a sledgehammer(Once again, Hell's Chicken). I mention this because his persona has cracked in his EGOs- and this is one of them. I argue that both of their egos will be them no longer able to confide in their coping mechanisms of escapism, and their reactions to that. Hong Lu's EGO specifically shows him with the net stuck around him and in his mouth, and with him seeming almost panicked and lost. It's very particular he seems focused on the 'seagulls' which can seem a bit random, but I believe this is due to the 'seagulls' representing his last thread of escapism- his world, literally and in his denial, is falling apart. I'd argue that Ryoushuu's will be somewhat similar, also representing her thread of escapism falling apart- likely to do with either Yuzuki’s death or her completion of the ‘Hellscreen,’ and her being unable to deal with it.

I think they'll both be either Lust or Gluttony EGOs put a cute little thumbsup here

Of course I can be like, completely wrong. Anyways it's like 3 in the morning stream heart's claws by vane(flashing colors warning): 

https://youtu.be/2M2BHjVQPH4

i wanted to post the sodas but that’d take too long

#I FORGOT TAGS LMAO #limbus company #lcb hong lu #lcb ryoshu #soda ego #yippee. #there is a girl in the narrative #smoke and mirrors more like. no. #tea with mul

[sn33z3s]

in defense of “if you weren’t a fucking asshole”

(title subject to change because it’s silly. what better time to write “meta” than hours before a season premiere. after all, style is dead. or was it that it’s just boring? no, wait, it’s toxic–)

this doesn’t have a thesis, it’s just some leftover thoughts from last year - mostly pertaining The Church Scene, because of course - and featuring some hot stan marsh characterization takes i guess

let’s start with the gay glancing at your ex-childhood best friend, yeah?

so, this framing is loaded because it's the narrative of their whole thing: kyle chasing stan. stan usually comes to kyle's rescue in absurd (but solvable) situations, whereas kyle often has to fight stan to provide emotional respite. they're thinking of each other here; it's distinct how stan looks back, rather than this shot cutting at kyle. stan's explosive reaction is still pretty presumptuous, but kyle was, even if unintentionally, asking for stan's attention - which is typical.

in a sense, this scene is their wordless language; the kind you share with said ex-best friend but it’s gotten worn from overuse, and as a result, you’re both communicatively stunted, so now that you’ve reached out again after 40 years, the first step to any comfort or solace is [the scene above] and a homoerotic spectacle:

well, i don’t need to tell you what that public spectacle is; you already know

stan leads his paranoid outburst in the church by accusing kyle of knowing something which would be impossible for kyle to know; in You’re Getting Old/Assburgers kyle also reaches out to stan, who turns him down, yet still asks that kyle basically read his mind and comfort him.

kyle is not a stranger to demanding unrealistic things from stan as well, but kyle calling stan “asshole” packs that punch since contemporarily the fandom usually assumes stan as more emotionally forward or in-touch with himself. however, in the church, kyle is pointing out that stan is clearly repressing his feelings, desires, traumas, etc. and kyle has used a similar approach before:

in my last meta, i wrote about how stan is pretty firm in not instantly accepting kyle's olive branches. of course, the thing is, kyle's olive branches are bent sometimes, let alone how he approaches asking for stan's forgiveness before the broship splits. kyle doesn't apologize: he just expects stan to move on.

(also, i love the "divorced couple" coding before we even reach Post-COVID.) anyway, the show clearly acknowledges stan as "agreeing with kyle no matter what," and the first time stan and kyle fight in canon, it’s a big deal.

i always return to how i don't see kyle or stan as at fault in most of, if not all, of their fights. this especially applies to YGO & Assburgers since it's one of their most significant “break-up” arcs. still... kyle's "if you weren't a fucking asshole" in the church scene is so satisfying. (and 100% excellent voice acting on matt stone's part; the punchy delivery at the end of that line is what makes me revisit it often.) when i put my tin foil hat on, it does sound like decades of resentment built up. if this post had to have a thesis, it’d be, “here’s why kyle had every right to call stan an asshole in that moment,” but the Stan Can Be an Asshole, Too meta is for another day. after all, my last meta also revolved around the trouble i have with framing stan as an exclusively passive character (rather than predominantly passive). 

by “decades of resentment,” i mean simmering for kyle since, you guessed it, episodes such as You're Getting Old and Assburgers. i talk about YGO & Assburgers a lot, i'm sorry. but i was thinking about the church scene as i browsed the south park wiki on the official site: "Kyle can only deal with so much of Stan's negativity." (obviously, matt and trey themselves do not write or even moderate the Comedy Central studios wiki, so take all of it with a grain of salt.) i like that wording, though, and this other part of the blurb too: "Stan's ego can get in the way of their friendship [referencing Guitar Queer-o]." 

kyle not being able to handle stan’s negativity these days is more often harshly critiqued than anything about stan’s ego. that detail does, in many forms, relate to the stan jock characterization discourse, but that’ll also have to wait for another meta. i can say a couple of things about it to tie up this post, though. 

yes, kyle fails to comfort stan in the YGO arc. at the same time, i don't think his positivity is always maligned. after all, the YGO arc isn't stan vs kyle, it's stan and kyle vs. growing up; this is their contemporary theme. and yes, for a kid, kyle can have that emotional maturity.

Tegridy Farms and Post-COVID have cemented stan as south park’s protagonist – though, in my opinion, he always has been it, especially since Bigger, Longer, & Uncut – and protagonists are like, the character archetype that receives the most self-projection. yet this emotional angle is comparatively still a fairly new framing of stan’s character. now that this show is narrated in such a way that we see even more of the world of south park through stan’s eyes, fans watching may feel extra inclined to think of him as only ever depressed. but being sad is not all stan does and never has been.

not only is this frequency fairly new to his character, i would go so far as to say that there’s a difference between the contemporary stan angst arcs and older episodes like Raisins, YGO, and Assburgers. being sad is not “natural” to stan (whatever that means), it is thrust upon him. most recently, this is randy’s fault. yes, we are meant to - and i hope that most do - sympathize or empathize with stan, but my point here is that he’s a little bit more belligerent and bullish than the fandom currently gives him credit for.

#south park meta #south park analysis #(committing crimes using those tags tbh) #south park #sneeze writes #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #sp stan #sp kyle #will i ever crop images consistently again? maybe....

[stressfulsloth]

I didn’t pick up on Harry seeming to question his gender at all! I noticed the sexuality of course, but his discomfort with femininity seemed to come more from feeling like he doesn’t love up to expectations of masculinity and just general feelings of inadequacy. But I’m also a trans man so wanting to be feminine is rather foreign to me, so maybe I just glossed over it?

Sorry that was horribly long winded but would you mind expanding upon your comment about Harry’s gender identity?

Yeah sure! I'm not sure where you've come from so I'm going to link this here as just a bit of my thoughts on Harry and gender/sexuality, but if you came from that post and still aren't sure what I'm getting at, I'll elaborate too :)) I think Harry's issues with masculinity as it relates to class are quite obvious, and DE goes in hard on presenting gender and gender expectations as a conscious performance, with higher expectations on Harry stemming from his poverty. "What is it about poverty that makes all the men *real*?" This can certainly be interpreted as Harry having issues with expressing any kind of femininity, with performing gender expectations to an adequate degree. Struggling to live up to the standard of manliness set for him in the media that he consumes, in the world he occupies, and further the standard that he sets for himself in the aftermath of his failed relationship with dora ("you poor fuck. You poverty-ridden fuck.")

But beyond that, beyond identifying masculinity with feelings of inadequacy, there is (I think) also an undercurrent of longing for femininity or "genderless"ness that lends itself well to a trans/nb HC. The derision he or his skills express towards femininity at certain points feels almost defensive, rejection to keep it at arm's length despite his fascination with it, while the performative hypermasculinity feels like a shield. His fascination with "genderless" haircuts and his skills immediately shutting it down. It feels almost like another facet of his repression, perhaps, a residual from pre-annesia Harry having these same thoughts and having to shut them down for survivals sake. He does accuse other characters of "cross dressing" a few times, mimicking his preoccupation with finding other people's sexualities too- Noid and Gary, for example. The entirety of the Noid conversation would give him something interesting to chew on: "You know what I think? I think *man*, *woman*, and *child* are arbitrary divisions which serve to bind humanity to serfdom." And of course "some lady-clothes to piss off the sex-system."

The entirety of the leopard print leotard scene, the echo of "I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore" in "yes. This is the type of animal I want to be" the moment he's dressed in the bodysuit. The "summer" warmth found in expressing his femininity, in dressing himself in something softer, and on the other side the paralysing fear that he doesn't deserve to express it, that he'll be ridiculed if he presents the way he actually wants to. The emphasis that once this door opens, it can't be closed. Once the egg cracks, it can't be glued back together and ignored. "Again: once the leopard comes on, it's never *ever* coming off." Once Harry experiences a taste of his desired gender presentation, he will not be able to repress it again. I think the fear that undercuts every single thought on the topic is very familiar to the closeted or unaware trans experience (or at least it is to me, an nb person), fear of admitting what you want, fear of being ridiculed and laughed at. But at the same time, the confidence, the warmth "like stepping into a summer lake," the satisfaction that comes with gender experimentation, the freedom...

Of course, Harry doesn't have the language to describe what he's (potentially) feeling. He barely knows that gay people exist. But I think it's plausible that this pattern of thoughts, given time to stew away from the "male-dominated workplace" of the RCM and more time in the homo-sexual underground, more time learning to be kinder to himself and to the world, unlearning some of the bigotry that has worn a groove into him as a cop, shedding some of the misery ("turn from the ruin. Turn and go forward..."), could lead to Harry discovering and identifying with nb and/or transfem labels. To "explode the gender binary" as he says.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #I'm not saying this is the intended reading but i am fond of it #remembering the post that's like 'refering to HDB's misogyny as internalised then refusing to elaborate' and honestly yeah #long post #i am so sorry for the massive long posts in the tag recently i just have a lot of thoughts and i want to try and be clear as i can #sorry if this is a bit mushy i am so tired 🥲 #ask #anonymous

[vole-mon-amour]

3x10, part 2, Roy x Jamie edition.

i very much doubt that, Jamie. Colin? Sam? but then again, he's besties with half of the team, so maybe?

the faces he makes.

the bickering with Roy. the thing, being their relationship and love for each other, they share.

"it's dumb (i don't know yet how to feel confident with the people i care about very much). i brought it for you anyway. it made me think of you."

THE TONGUE. thank you for your service, Phil. i missed that gesture.

i'm gonna have a sore throat after all the screaming. it's one of the must beautiful ways to say "I love you" I've seen. that soft music playing. the look that Roy gives him. Jamie mumbling, suddenly becoming shy and awkward aka a boy that rarely receives genuine affection, a boy raised in an abusive poor household, learning to show gestures of genuine affection and and trying to live through it without embarrassment.

like, he KNOWS how much Roy's career meant and probably still means for him. it means a lot for Jamie, too, because he's there next to Roy exactly bc he had Roy's poster above his bed in the first place.

i have so many feelings about this and Jamie. so many. i also keep thinking about Phil's, "there's gonna be a moment after which people might think that Roy and Jamie have a wild affair. i wouldn't exclude that but yeah." is this it? "you talk about him all the time" or is there going to be something wilder? like when Roy and Keeley talk and Jamie walks into the room?

bc even Roy's sister knows how much this gesture means for Roy and how much it shows Jamie's feelings for Roy (not to mention the fucking bantering with Roy Kunt, those repressed idiots). the look Jamie gives Roy. *deep sigh* yeah, i'm staying here. i'm going down with this ship. you can pry them away from me from my cold dead hands.

not Roy actually saying how he feels to Jamie, but Jamie being so close to Roy's family and inside his house and then later Roy and Keeley are inside Jamie's childhood bedroom. you guys?? the dots are connecting? the math is mathing???

the boy is so happy and so genuine, I can't get over it. the essence of being genuine.

those faces, lol.

are you telling me that in the year 2023 this billionaire still carries ANY kind of cash? for real?

i'm honestly still amazed by how good Jamie is with kids. Henry, Phoebe. maybe it's his way of pushing back after the way his dad treated him but also, to my current understanding, how his mom also tried to be good to him. with me absolutely hating kids irl? characters that still recognize the pattern and how kids needs encouragement and kindness and understanding in order to bloom? there's no denying Jamie's personality. i love his soul. the boy has my heart.

Jamie Tartt being besties with Roy Kent's sister and niece: unlocked. i dislike that I don't know/remember Roy sister's name.

Jamie can perform whatever useless comment about "your sister is fit" bc this? the boy is in love. but if i'm being honest, I hate that they're always trying to nudge us in the direction of hetero Jamie so we wouldn't ship Roy and Jamie. thanks, i'm holding onto them so hard, they're gonna have bruises if you'll try to pry them away from my hands. they are IN LOVE. period.

even Jamie snickering after that comment gives off s1 vibes where Jamie did everything he could to get Roy's attention. it sounds more like a joke just to get one more comment and interaction from Roy. sometimes Jamie does things not bc he believes in them but because attention, and it usually is about Roy's attention.

#natiswatching #ted lasso #roy x jamie #jamie tartt

[suffarustuffaru]

Otto is literally so fucking crazy like you wouldn't expect it first when you first read about him

like

he's a silly lil smart fella that gets bullied but then arc 8 happens and he's fucking crazy

HAHA very very Very true. im too much of a fan of like. either the kind but Horribly Repressed characters or like. the ones that are like. unassuming but Scary AF. esp if theres crazed devotion involved... my choice of characters is far too predictable LMAO but no yeah i absolutely love otto for the reasons you stated yeah. it was wild bc i predicted a lot of the arc 8 stuff before it really blew up around ch24!! i was like dipping my toes into researching otto side content when arc 7 was still ongoing and then i kept noticing little details right? like "this man is mentally ill lmao and a little crazy about subaru but its not That bad rn..." and then i wrote a fic where otto goes feral with a pal of mine (you know who you are) in like 2022 i think? AND THEN ARC 8 CAME IN AND HALF THE SHIT WE WROTE IN THAT FIC CAME TRUE.. LMAO T^T i remember after arc 8 i had to like reevaulate my perception of otto for sure. it was like "OH SHIT IM NOT EVEN EXTREME E N O U G H WHEN I TRY TO WRITE HIM IN FIC. HES CRAZY" (impressed). i always like the unhinged characters </3

anyway yeah thats my impromptu backstory behind me brainwashing myself into becoming a huge otto fan which was then propelled by not much english content :<<<< i love how fucking crazy he is. what a guy. hes very very deceptively complicated. the dude that katy perry sings about in her hit song "hot n cold" is otto suwen. i know this bc she told me so.

#rezero #re:zero #ask #otto suwen #arc 8 spoilers #every time a character is obsessively devoted to someone i start foaming at the mouth and going feral bc its soooo....... this trope is so. #i really like this trope okay. very fascinating. #.......i AM serious about the song hot n cold actually fitting otto LMAO #i feel like at this rate my ao3 page is just gonna become full of ottosuba by the end of the year. how many have i even made at this point.