#I feel bad for existing now thanks. but when DON'T i specifically

[euclydya]

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[spectral-phases]

I need people to stop getting so precious about Clark "not letting" Bruce kill the Joker after Jason’s death post-Crisis. Everyone acts like it was like this:

But it was more:

So, we all know the story. Actually. Wait. Maybe we don't. So. The story beneath the cut.

Jason got benched as being Robin because he was not dealing well with his parents' deaths, felt like he was no longer wanted because he was adopted specifically to be Robin (and Bruce is shit at making his kids feel loved a lot of times). Jason discovered the woman who raised him was his step mother, not his bio mother. He goes looking for bio mom. Finds bio mom, she hugs him and tells him she's missed him so much, Bruce contemplates letting Jason live with his family if that would make him happier despite being obviously cut up about the idea of losing Jason. Bio mom is being extorted by the Joker to let him ship out Joker Venom disguised as medical supplies because he can't just steal the supplies and sell them. Bruce has to go stop the shipment of Joker Venom, his portable chopper is too small for two, so Jason is left behind. Jason is told to wait, but The Killing Joke just happened and his bio mom is alone with the Joker (who is insane, capricious and evil), so, obviously he has to save his mother and could not wait. Bio Mom is outside, no guards, Jason says, "Hey, I'm actually Robin, I'm here to save you from the Joker" and she says "Nah, he's actually gone, so I'm fine. But let's go inside so I can grab my things and we can leave." Her things turn out to be a gun to point at Jason after leading him to the Joker. Jason is too stunned to move. The Joker and his goons beat Jason up and then the Joker uses the crowbar to finish beating him to a presumed death. His bio mom at some point couldn't bear to watch it anymore and turns around to smoke a cigarette. Once Joker’s done, bio mom asks what they're going to do about Batman, and the Joker is all "oh. Yeah, lol. Probably was a bad idea to kill his kid. Whoops. My bad." And then ties up the bio mom to kill her and erase any evidence he brutally attacked/killed Jason. The Joker sets a bomb on a timer and leaves. Jason uses the last of his strength to untie his bio mom so she can escape. He can't see well enough to try and disarm the bomb. She tries to get them both out. The door is locked. Jason shields her as the bomb goes off, but she dies just as Batman comes up and tells him the Joker did it, calls Jason a hero, says he deserved a better mother (he did) but does not/is unable to own up to her part in Jason’s death before dying herself. Bruce finds Jason’s body and is fucking devastated.

So after that, Bruce chases the Joker down to the UN because the Joker lucked into being a diplomat for Iran and is now meeting at the UN assembly in New York. Bruce is 100% set on doing a premeditated murder of the Joker for Jason. The US government is aware of this. They hire Superman to grab Batman to try and talk him down because the Joker has diplomatic immunity for past crimes. It does not go well.

"That’s the law, not Justice." Batman is 100% still going to kill the Joker. Everyone knows. Superman knows. Superman says the stupid thing is putting vengeance above the interests of the country, not killing Joker.

Batman sneaks into the Joker’s room, and the Joker (forgetting his earlier desire to not get fucking killed by Batman) is like "oh man, I wish I could have seen your face when you found his body" and further needles Bruce with a "Or are you here to thank me for getting rid of him for you?" Making Bruce triple down on killing the Joker.

"Your confirming it makes what I have to do a lot easier."

Bruce manages to get in to observe the UN meeting as Bruce Wayne. Superman is disguised as a guard. Bruce is seething, watching the Joker, knowing that is the guy who killed Jason.

"I should have terminated his vile existence years ago. But I didn't. I couldn't. His insanity gained him a stay of execution. But no longer. ... Jason’s dead."

They both know the Joker is too stupid and lacks the impulse control needed to not attack the UN and immediately lose his immunity, which is the only thing keeping him alive. Joker releases Joker Venom to kill the delegates. Superman super breathes to inhale all the gas, which he's immune to because he's Superman and then says this as he leaves to go find a place to release the poison gas safely.

"Batman, he's all yours."

Superman basically says "You can kill him now" because he knows Batman’s mind has not changed, and Superman had not once tried to say "killing Joker would be wrong" just that it couldn't happen before the Joker acted in a way that lost him his immunity.

And Bruce does go to do just that. He chases the Joker down, intent to kill, and jumps onto the helicopter the Joker is using to escape. One of the guys fires at Batman. It shoots the pilot, hits the Joker in damn near his heart, if not his heart, and Batman realizes the helicopter is going down and decides to jump and leave the Joker behind. He intends for the Joker to die in the crash.

Okay? Bruce was 100% going to kill the Joker for killing Jason. Superman said "hang on. Let him get enough rope to hang himself first and then you can do it." And then Joker only survived because comic books. And Bruce is unhappy about having to wait. Superman did not try to talk Bruce out of killing the Joker at all ever, or scold him for wanting to kill the Joker. (Don't say he was rescuing the Joker in that last panel. The next panel is Superman fishing Batman, who is shot in the arm, from the harbor, and Batman telling Superman to go find the body. Find the body! And Superman does go to do just that, but is unable to).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[loredrinker]

Seeing Solas Through the Eyes of Cole

Currently working on a project, trying to paint a picture of Solas through the dialogue said about and to him in both games - the good and the bad. I love analyzing dialogue, so this has been a fun project, even if a bit daunting at times. The last few days I've been focusing on Cole’s lines specifically, and it’s interesting to see how much sympathy and emotional depth we get through Cole.  

When we view Solas through the lens of spirits - beings of emotion - it's understandable why many players find Solas sympathetic. Cole especially is a powerful lens for this because of the nature of this character, he doesn’t recall facts - he feels what others feel. 

Cole's dialogue after All New, Faded for Her, paints, I think, the most vivid emotional picture of Solas.  

Cole: Bright and brilliant, he wanders the ways, walking unwaking, searching for wisdom...   Solas: I do not need you to do that, Cole.   Cole: Your friend wanted you to be happy, even though she knew you wouldn't be.   Solas: (Sighs.) Could you... if you would remember her, could you do it as I would?   Cole: He comes to me as though the Fade were just another wooded path to walk without a care in search of wisdom. We share the ancient mysteries, the feelings lost, forgotten dreams, unseen for ages, now beheld in wonder. In his own way, he knew wisdom, as no man or spirit had before.   Solas: Thank you. 

As a man now and as time has gone by, Solas’ memories have become clouded by shame and regret. He can’t trust himself to remember his friend as it deserves to be remembered - without distortion. 

So he turns to Cole, a being closer to that spiritual purity, and asks him to remember his friend as he would have. 

But I love what happens instead. 

Cole responds by sharing how the spirit remembers Solas. This is rare - a spirit’s insight on how they view Solas - a memory of him, untainted by the self-loathing Solas carries. Cole knows what Solas needs even if Solas doesn’t and I believe Cole knows that part of Solas’ hurt is that he’s grieving not just his friend, but the man/spirit he was.   

“In his own way, he knew wisdom, as no man or spirit had before.”  

This was likely a spirit who had known Solas throughout his entire existence - as both spirit and man. The way it describes him is in the present tense: “He comes to me...” tells me that Solas, even as a man, continued to visit this spirit in the Fade. So the spirit sees him not as something entirely changed. Solas may have taken a different form, but his nature - curious, seeking, attuned to the Fade - remains the same.

We don't know for sure, but this spirit likely witnessed his transformation from spirit to man, his part in the destruction of the Titans, his rebellion against the Evanuris, the death of Mythal, and the long path that led to the events of Inquisition. I wonder, how many times did he turn to this spirit when he’d lost his clarity, seeking the wisdom he once embodied? Would things have gone differently if this spirit was still alive in the events leading to, and of Veilguard? Outside of Mythal, it may be the only being we meet in the games who has seen the entirety of Solas.

This spirit understood that Solas was wounded. Of course it did - it was a spirit of Wisdom. And when we consider its final words to Solas alongside Cole’s later dialogue, we gain deeper insight into the pain he carries.

“I’m happy. I’m me again. You helped me. Now you must endure”. 

Solas helped it return to it's purpose before it passed, and in return, it asks him to do the same: to endure. Not just physically, but spiritually - to live without losing himself and hold on to who he truly is beneath all the darkness and regret. 

I think part of the pain Cole feels in Solas stems from Solas losing himself. The theme of longing to be seen runs throughout Inquisition and Veilguard - in the Memories of a Duet Codex, in Solas telling the Inquisitor, “Few in this world can see me…,” and in his confession to a hurt Inquisitor, “You saw more than most.” He even states it outright: “I was Solas first.” And Solas is being buried beneath centuries of war, shame, grief, and every name hurled at him as an insult and in hatred.

To me, this dialogue offers a rare window into who Solas is beneath the darkness, strangled by years of violence and making choices against his nature. His capacity for love, his longing for connection - it isn’t a lie. It’s the part of him that can endure, despite everything. If the atonement ending is chosen, we see the full expression of that endurance.

To feel compassion for someone isn’t to excuse their actions - but there is power in understanding the emotional root of those actions. And if we choose to see Solas through Cole’s eyes (and through the eyes of the Spirit of Wisdom) – well, maybe we’ll find that he’s not that kind of wolf.  

*Note - there are theories that this dialogue is referring to Mythal, not the Spirit of Wisdom. Regardless of what you believe, this dialogue still paints the same picture of Solas. If it is Mythal, it's even more interesting as despite all their shared pain and hurt of each other, she still wants him to find happiness.

[jennamoran]

Hi Jenna,

Do you have any specific tips to offer for writers? I feel like I can make the vibe of a scene come through very well, but the idea of what is actually happening suffers as a result.

I guess a more specific question might be 'How do you describe how something feels without the comprehension of the scene suffering, or becoming overly verbose.'

-Thanks, Skane

As the famously concise and universally comprehensible Jenna Moran,

First, I should say that you must write for yourself. Trying to be clear to a set of notional readers will not make your writing clear. It will make your writing convoluted and afraid, and even more people will misunderstand.

This is a problem. Sadly I cannot at this time fix the world.

You can try technical exercises. You can try having as many interesting conversations as you possibly can. You can look for a writing club of some sort.

It helps to be safe. If you cannot be safe, it may help to be angry.

It helps to be valued. If you don't have that, it may help to work with slow dedication and accept things take time.

It helps to have people read bits of your drafts and work and enjoy them. If you cannot have that, let yourself read and enjoy them yourself?

I do not have more direct solutions right now.

**

As to your specific concern:

I will give a bad solution. Then I will talk about it.

You can describe how something feels. Then, describe the scene. One, then the other. Both things are now perfectly clear.

... or as clear as you can make them.

There are two reasons that's usually bad. The first is pacing. The second is language.

Why would you want to describe them at the same time? Why not one, then the other?

Usually, because they are a single event.

We experience "this happens, and I feel this" simultaneously. So separating them when you write misstates the experience(s).

They're not just accidentally simultaneous. They intertwine.

Knowing that, it becomes false to present one, then the other. In a linear present-tense narrative that does a deep dive on both mood and action, we must first present the beginning of the conjoined mood/action experience. Then the next bit. Then the next, and on to the end.

If the reader becomes impatient, they become impatient with the experience. Loosely speaking, the fault may be in your choice of which events to describe, and in how much detail ... or in them.

If the reader cannot parse something, it is your description of that portion of the experience that they cannot parse. Loosely speaking, the fault may be in your wording, or in them.

If we look at what you must present as a stream of experiences, then in at least one sense it becomes simple:

Identify whose experiential stream you want to share. Think through what they experience as a set of sentence-sized pieces. Present them one by one.

Thus for pacing.

**

You may discover at this point that you still are not conveying the scene clearly. That is because what you believe you must convey is not part of the experience. Either change the story you are telling or switch to a narrator with the perspective you want.

You cannot tell this post's story in a way that reveals that I did not eat much breakfast. Not without kind of shoehorning it in. It is not part of this story, even if it possibly should be? My cat came in earlier and drooled on my arm. Shadows only exist in the light. Oatmeal often has gluten. People are good. They should love themselves. I don't even own a shoehorn. I want you to know these things. But telling you right then was a little bit weird.

**

Let's talk about language.

Language is an issue because it likes to do its own thing. You often want the words to echo the experience. You don't want to use the same words over and over again. (At least, not by accident.) You don't want the sentences to sound awkward. You want to pause at natural places but you have to keep your punctuation navigably close to "correct."

It's like, language writhes when you try to nail it down.

It writhes. It screeches and flails. It tears off bits of its skin. It's a problem. That is before we even get to how other people are understanding your words.

If I ever have problems just telling people what happens in order then that is usually why.

I think it can help to read things aloud. Often I replace what I wrote with what I say when I read it. For me, this is only useful poetically. For the technical side---whether I'm communicating too fast or too slow for a reader to follow---it does not help. I have to guess.

I can tell you from experience that you cannot be too obvious. Just being you, when your reader is not you, will add plenty of mystery. Oodles of mystery. You don't need to add any more.

I do not have a great solution for language. I'm sorry.

I don't even know which of my own tricks and habits brought me my audience and which of my tricks and habits drive people away.

If you are riding language and it shies away from the content you have to convey to the reader, probably you have to murder it and find a new, dumber steed. I'm sorry again. The rest of the time, you can maybe just have fun with the ride?

I wonder if it would be better to explicitly state that language is a horse in that metaphor. I probably shouldn't. It goes against my own advice.

So, a scene. Suppose I am eating a banana and I am sad. I expect I would walk to the fruit with a heavy heart. I would peel it. I would look at the inner fruit sadly. I would notice the pale yellow of its color. I would notice the texture. The pores. (Looks up banana images) The long, fuzzy lines. I'd take a bite. I'd eat it. Maybe someone talks in the distance. The banana would be gone. Maybe I'd just stand there a moment. Then I'd pull the trash can out and throw out the peel.

I do not think people will gather around and point at that in shock and call it great writing. I don't even know that it's better than "so, there I was, sadly eating a banana" or "it was the first banana I'd eaten since my grandmother died" or whatever. But I do think that is the correct sequence of experiences.

If I really wanted to talk about grief I'd want to talk about stillness and feelings like rolling clouds and stuff. If I really wanted to talk about eating bananas I'd try to find words for that dull shock of sweetness on the tongue, the way you roll the lump of the bite in your mouth. I can't imagine what would force me to talk about both at once but presumably I'd have to start blending the experiences (this is how you get smoothies).

**

I think I did eat a banana not that long after my grandmother died, for clarity. It was a while ago. I think there were clouds in my chest. Or the sea? I don't know. This constant rolling, shoving motion, soft as water and hard as water both. I don't remember much about the banana, so I can't tell you about peeling it, or about what most of it tasted like. I can't include that honestly because it's not part of the experience, right? And if like the reader doesn't know how bananas work they may be like "wait, aren't bananas in some kind of squishy rubbery casing? And you're just EATING one?" but I can't do anything about that, they just have to suffer in ignorance, they just have to suffer. It's not important to the moment when I ate a banana after my grandmother died that my cat came in years later and drooled on my arm. It's not important that I don't have a shoehorn. It's not important that I'd already eaten enough bananas in my life to know my way around removing the peel. (I'm so cool.) Those things were not part of that moment.

I think my hand was on the counter, which was blue. I think the sky outside the window was grey. I don't think I looked. I just think it was grey. And if you don't know why I had to pull the trash can out, or where the banana was before I got it, or---if anybody did talk in the distance---who might have been talking, or how many bites it took---it's because the only moment there that was actually part of the experience was that first bite, dull and sweet on my tongue.

[tokutaiseichan]

List of Tokyo Debunker Fandom Tags & Yume/MC Ships Guides to Help You Navigate Twitter

Since the fandom is growing, I feel like it'd be handy to have a list like this. Please note that some of the tags below don't actually exist yet! I just compiled it using my knowledge from previous fandoms.

#東ディバ絵札 (toudiba efuda) - General fanart tag. It's usually frowned upon to upload shippy art on the main tag (no matter what kind. Yes, yume included) so please be careful!

#tkdb夢 (tkdb yume) / #東ディバ夢 (toudiba yume) - General yume tag. Scopes including both Character x default MC and OC x Canon.

#tkdbプラス (tkdb plus) - Often used interchangeably with #tkdb夢. Yume works posted with this tag have the general "sweet romance" feel.

#病みのtkdbプラス (yami no tkdb plus) - For yume works where the canon character is depicted as a yandere / harboring some kind of twisted love for the yume MC. Sometimes used together with #tkdbマイナス tag if the scenario fits.

#tkdbマイナス (tkdb minus) - For yume works that deal with more niche, darker themes generally unsuitable with the positive vibes of plus yume works. Themes vary including but not limited to: forever one-sided feelings, angst, character death, break up, domestic violence, cheating, bad / merry bad endings, gore, etc. Basically if you see works tagged as this, that'd be your Dead Dove: Do Not Eat warning.

#夜のtkdbプラス (yoru no tkdb plus) - General R-18 yume works.

特待生ちゃん (tokutaisei-chan) - Honor Student / The MC. Since Tokyo Debunker MC doesn't have a default name, this is usually how the fans refer to her when talking about her. The canon MC, if you will.

創作特待生 (sousaku tokutaisei) - Original rendition of the Honor Student. Visual design, personality, gender, and backstory may be different to the canon MC.

創作寮生 (sousaku ryousei) - Original (Darkwick) Student that's completely separate from the Honor Student. This term isn't exclusive to Tokyo Debunker so if you only put "創作寮生" on the search bar you'll get OCs from other franchises too (Twisted Wonderland & Harry Potter, to name a few).

Some character x canon MC ship names

冠特 (kamutoku) - Jin x Honor Student

伯特 (hatoku / hakutoku) - Haku x Honor Student

翔特 (shoutoku) - Sho x Honor Student

Those three are currently the only ones popular enough to have people using a dedicated ship names when making works about them. If you want to see the other characters x canon MC ship works, you'll have better luck searching "#tkdb夢 / #tkdbプラス + (character's name)" instead.

As for canon x canon character ships, usually a fandom would create specific 腐 tag for it (like #���イ腐テ for twst) but since the fandom is still pretty small, I don't think anyone has came up with a proper 腐 tag for Tokyo Debunker. I could've just missed it tho, since I only follow people who post yume and general non-shippy works so feel free to let me know!

For now, you can try your luck by combining the first kanji of two characters' given name. Keep in mind that Japanese fandom is usually much more strict about ship naming tho. AB ≠ BA!

I think that's all of it for now. Thank you for reading! I'll leave a kitty Rui here so you can stare at how cute he is~ ;3c

[saltylemontears]

try again || ln4

summary: you and lando meet after many years with lots to talk about... warnings: none? i think? a/n: my first lando fic got over 650 notes (INSANE), so here's another, longer, as a thank you!

you weren't a big fan of racing. in fact, you had no clue what it was really about, until your brother brought you here.

the paddock is loud, way too loud for your liking, and you don't really understand. you see people wearing merch, carrying around signs and cutouts with big smiles on their faces, and it's actually kind of cute.

your brother gets into a passionate conversation about a championship with a fellow fan and decides to completely ignore your existence. how typical of him. your eyes wander to the big screen on your left.

names and pictures flash before your eyes, but none of them sound familiar. max verstappen, charlec leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris.

lando norris.

lando norris?

lando norris, your highschool sweetheart? no, that can't be. surely, it's just a guy with the same name. and the same face. and the same fucking curls. just a coincidence.

your thoughts begin to wander, and suddenly you're in highschool again, anxiously waiting for lando in the park, on your bench. but lando's not in sight. not a single trace of him, he didn't even text you that he's busy like he usually does. you left the park two hours later, tears streaming down your face, betrayal stinging inside your chest.

and it starts stinging again. your first ever love, your first ever heartbreak.

you never thought you'd feel like this on a random sunday in miami, and it's overwhelming, it's all too much and you need to go.

your brother turns back to you. "hey, where are you going?"

it feels stupid to tell him about lando and whatever feelings you're feeling right now, so you just sit back down. "nothing, nothing,"

you manage to zone out for a while, only coming back to your senses when the lights go out, the race starts and your brother screams in excitement.

the crowd goes insane every time a car passes them, making the whole place even louder, and to be completely honest, it's actually kinda fun to watch those cars go ridiculously fast.

as the race comes to an end, the fans get louder, specifically the ones dressed in orange and your brother stands up, cheering passionately.

"and lando norris wins the miami grand prix, for the first time in formula on-"

jesus christ. you just witnessed your first love win a fucking formula one race with your own eyes.

you watch the screen, seeing lando on the podium, looking so happy and relieved, and all of a sudden, you see the same kid you loved those years ago and it's way too much to fucking handle. you get up again.

"i'm gonna go pee," you tell your brother, attempting to leave as quietly as possible, making your way through the crowd.

hell, you don't even know where the toilets are. you just need to get out of there real quick.

and you run, you run until you don't know where you are, but you're standing next to a bunch of guys in orange, breathing heavily.

you feel tears streaming down your cheeks and you hide your face, trying to find a bathroom. those orange guys definitely have a bathroom there, right?

and now, you're completely lost, messy and lando norris is in front of your eyes, chatting with someone. you need to get out.

you wait for a while until everyone turns around and run out of there as quickly as you can and-

something taps on your shoulder, and when you turn around, it's him. you're not sure whether you should cry or laugh.

your eyes meet and it's awkward as hell, just like back in highschool.

"didn't think i'd see you again," he says quietly after a minute of just staring. his voice is a little wobbly.

"i wish you didn't," you reply softly, turning back around to make your way back, but he stops you again. he stays quiet.

"congratulations," you say when he doesn't reply, and you mean it. no bad feelings, just like your mum always told you. "you did well,"

lando's hand on your shoulder tightens and he bites his lip, as if he was trying to find the right words.

"i'm sorry." he eventually whispers, voice breaking in the middle, and your heart fucking breaks at the sight, as angry as you are. "i-i'm gonna explain, alright? i'll tell you everything, please,"

you nod in agreement. today just can't get crazier.

he gently leads you somewhere, and you feel your survival instinct kick in, but it's lando. it's always been him.

he closes the door behind you when you sit on the couch in his driver's room. your hands shake.

"go on then," you begin, "explain,"

he takes a deep breath. "listen, i didn't really have a choice. i had to leave, you know? to move up the ladder, and i dropped out, because i wanted to chase this dream," he says, eyes wandering over your face. "and then - then it started being more than a dream, and i left everyone behind, not just you, and i'm so fucking sorry,"

you tense. "you could've at least texted me,"

"and what was i supposed to text you? that i'm leaving the country to become a racing driver and that i'm gonna be living in monaco and flying around the world and might never see you again?"

"anything. you don't even know how i felt after you ditched me," you reply, bitterness coating the sentence.

"i didn't want to ditch you,"

"but you did, lando, and it fucking hurt!" you raise your voice a little, but it's shaky and unstable. lando reaches for your hand.

"i'm sorry, i really am," he whispers, "i thought about you every day, how you're doing, because i loved you. i loved you so fucking much, i wanted you to just forget my dumb ass,"

"i didn't forget," you say, hand brushing against his. "i thought you didn't want me anymore,"

the room goes silent and you can hear each other's breathing.

"i still love you. i never really stopped," you blurt out, not even realizing what you've just said until he pulls you into a much needed hug, whispering a "me too," in your ear.

you pull away, looking into his eyes. he smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"you think we could try again?"

[rekino2114]

Oh gosh… my notifications are a pinkish purple… just like her eyes in the manga cover…

Anyways, this is a request for the Fami (D̴e̶a̴t̸h̸) concept I mentioned on one of you’re recent posts regarding her. Just in case you wanted a specific request for it before you make it…

Anyways, Fami (D̴e̶a̴t̸h̸…) revealing to her Male S/o that she was lying to him about her true identity. How would she react if her s/o felt betrayed or at least sad that she didn’t trust him with her secret…

…that freaky dead crow thing with the bones and the guillotine being her calling card makes a LOT more sense now… this most recent chapter has me questioning EVERYTHING now o_0. Sorry about you having a bad week, hope it gets better!

(D) Fami revealing her true TRUE identity to you

Spoilers for the last csm chapter

Pairing:(death devil) fami x male reader

A/n:I know this was supposed to be my break week but it's not my fault this perfect fic opportunity presented itself to me.

Also there are some things here that don't make sense in a canon way, but I don't care wholesomeness and fluff/ comfort transcends canon

This was the day "fami" finally decided to tell you the truth, the entire pure truth.

This thought was eating her from the inside, during every single day you two spent together, every dinner date, every boring hour at school, every night spent cuddling the only thought that plagued her mind was that you didn't know who she truly was and she was still lying to you after all this time.

She told herself that it was to protect you, that if you had known about her true identity, then you would have been in danger but even she knew that it was all a lie she told herself to try and justify it. The real reason was a very simple one:she didn't want you to be angry and leave her

It was funny, the death devil, the king of terror, the strongest devil in existence whose mere name could inflict fear in the hearts of humans and devils alike......was scared of her boyfriend breaking up with her, but it was the truth, death was scared because she didn't want you to leave her, she enjoyed your companionship more than anything she had ever experienced, more than the food she had learned to adore and more than her sisters who she would do anything for.

She loved you, it was simply that, she knew she felt a weird sensation in her brain and stomach (that she had put back in her body shortly after realizing she couldn't die) whenever you were near her, but it wasn't hunger or a desire to kill you, the opposite in fact it was a desire to protect you from everything, to keep you close to her at all times, to share your happiness and comfort you from your sadness. She later learned to call this weird emotion love during a conversation with control, in which her younger sister told death that she had learned to feel love too thanks to her own special someone and that it had completely changed her

When she asked her what to do about this makima just gave her a simple answer

"You love him right? Then follow that love wherever it leads you, I promise it will be a nice place, I speak from experience"

A long time after this discussion, death can safely say that following that advice was the best decision she had ever taken in her immortal existence. The time spent with you made her feel love, and she can guarantee that control was right. It was such a beautiful feeling.

Being with you made her soul feel at peace, and she didn't even know if she had one, it felt like you could understand who she was even without knowing anything, she felt like she could almost smile when you were happy and cry when you were said, it was a weird but incredibly comforting feeling. Death had found her reason to keep living in this world. She wanted to spend eternity with you, to keep loving you forever and ever, but to do that, she needed to be truthful to you

Even now, she doesn't know why she kept the famine devil disguise. She wasn't really planning anything after all. She just wanted to live a normal life with you. But it was probably because she was scared of what you'd think

if your girlfriend walked up to you and said "I'm the literal embodiment of death and could kill you at any moment, and in fact was prophesied to destroy all of humanity and not even I really know why that's not happening" you'd probably either run away have a heart attack or at the very least break up with her and death was very afraid of all of these things happening.

She thought she could have a bit more time, maybe another couple hundred years to gather the courage to tell you the truth but since her sister, the actual famine devil, had come to your school (which now funnily enough had 3 out of 4 horsemen attending it) she knew she had to do something soon. The only reason her secret was still safe was because famine slipped and fell before her introduction and started to cry, forgetting to actually introduce herself.

If you had found out through her that death had been lying, it would have been the worst possible outcome. You would have thought she didn't have the decency to even tell you herself and that she didn't trust you at all or was just using you, which couldn't have been farther from the truth. She had to tell you, and she decided to do it today. No matter the outcome, she would have stayed strong and not done anything. She wouldn't have hurt you or any other human, she hated seeing you sad after all.

"Fami" made her way to your apartment with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. She knew it wasn't Valentine's Day, but she thought that could at least sweeten the news and increase her chances of you not fainting

She knocked but raised an eyebrow when you didn't answer

"Y/n? It's me.........."

No matter how much she tried to she couldn't bring herself to say fami

She knocked again but was just met with the door opening by itself, at this point she got worried and immediately ran into the house

Even if death swore to not hurt a human again, as that would upset you, there was one exception, anyone who hurt you would die, the moment she found out someone touched a hair on your head she would have called whatever devil necessary or just her own powers and slaughtered them without mercy.

She was ready to do just that when she entered and found the house completely dark. She was about to call out to you again when the room suddenly lit up and you came from behind the couch

"Surprise!!!"

The death devil didn't have time to process anything when you approached her and put a party hat over her black cap

".......what?"

"So you know how a couple of days ago a kid nearby was having a birthday and you said that cake looked delicious? Well that made me realize that devils don't have birthdays and that's so sad. I'm sure you were born on a day in hell a long time ago so I just decided to make today your birthday for no particular reason"

"Fami" blinked twice before fully focusing her ringed eyes on you

"......why?"

"Cause I wanna celebrate, it's so sad that you don't have a day to celebrate you"

"..............."

"I love you fami, and I want you to know how special you are"

Just hearing the word fami made her heart sink. She couldn't do it, she couldn't hold it in anymore. You were so sweet and innocent. She couldn't believe she lied to you for so long

"I'm the death devil"

".....w-what?"

"I'm sorry for saying this so suddenly but....it's the truth, all this time I've been lying to you, I'm not famine but death"

"............s-so you lied to me?......twice?"

Death lowered her eyes and looked at the floor, unable to withstand the sight of your heartbroken face

".....yes"

".......I.......I......I see"

"....w-wait y/n-"

"Please death stop talking, I.....think I need to be alone"

She knew she should have listened to you and let you think about everything, but she just couldn't, her selfish desire to do anything to feel that warmth in her heart, that feeling of love at whatever cost necessary overwrote whatever rational choice she could have done.

"N-no wait please-"

She tried to put her hand on your shoulder to comfort you but you misinterpreted that. After all she herself had told you many times how powerful and dangerous the death devil was, able to kill anyone without any effort at all maybe even with a light touch

"A-ah!"

You screamed and backed away, that sight alone made death reconsider her decision but you ran away to your bedroom leaving her alone with her thoughts

She sat on your couch doing nothing but thinking, she regretted everything, not only trying to touch you before but not telling you the real truth during all these months spent together.

Your face couldn't get out of her mind, you weren't just sad, whenever you were she knew exactly what to do. she would give you some of the ice cream that she always kept in the freezer and cuddled you while some bad movie was playing in the background, before asking the falling devil to cook her a special meal with whoever made you upset if that was the case.

But in that moment she couldn't do any of that, you weren't just sad, you were angry, scared and heartbroken, all emotions directed towards her, all of them were her fault.

She hated seeing this. She absolutely despised seeing you in this state, you were scared of her, if only she could tell you that she would never hurt you in any occasion, she would much rather decapitate herself and remove every single one of her organs again before dropping in the ocean, being stuck in an infinite state of not being able to die but still suffering all the pain, than hurt you in any possible way

Her breathing started to get heavier as she bit her lip, no blood came out of course but there wasn't a moment where she wished she could die more than this one, just so she could atone for the unimaginable sin of upsetting the man that she was living for, that gave her the ability to love.

She didn't have time to realize how ironic it was of THE death devil to think like this, she never realized it before but now that she started thinking about it, she came to the realization that if it made you happy she would gladly give her life to you if she could, she loved you so so so much, and she felt disgusted realized all of the stupid mistakes she did, mainly lying to you so much

"..............dammit"

When death opened her eyes she was met with her own legs, she was about to get up from the couch when she started seeing a weird pool of liquid staining her skirt.

She touched it and realized it was water, but how was that possible? She hadn't drank anything. She was almost sure her body would reject any food or drink she would have ingested out of pure guilt and sadness

She saw another drop hit her thighs and realized she could feel the same water around her cheeks, she touched them and confirmed that it was water, she was confused at first, no matter how much she tried she couldn't stop the water flowing from her eyes, before sharply coming to a realization

"......ah.....so these are tears...."

Death had seen you cry before, of course, but no matter how much she tried she couldn't really actually tear up. She had learned to smile even if slightly around you, but sadness was a really foreign emotion.

She didn't feel sad when you did, she felt more angry at whatever caused your sadness, and she also knew that she could just comfort your sadness away, she knew you weren't going to be sad forever, it was simply a temporary state that death would help you get out of.

And even when she finished her food she still wasn't sad, maybe a bit annoyed sure but she knew she could just effortlessly get more, just like you, the food wasn't going to be gone forever.

But in this situation, she felt sadness for the first time in.....ever, and it was because of one simple difference, she didn't have the guarantee that everything would have turned back to normal, you were betrayed by her that was a fact, and that fact was ore than enough of a reason for you to break up with her and leave her, a thought that death couldn't handle, also because she could blame no one but herself for this situation.

Death knew better than to go to your room and barge in, even if her intentions were pure, she didn't want to accidentally scare you again. She just stood on the couch, with her cap in hand trying to wipe the tears, waiting for the moment when you would be ready to talk.....if that moment were to ever come.

Thankfully for her, it came a few hours later

"Hey"

Death turned to see you standing in the doorway with a frown.

No matter how much she wanted to throw herself on you, to hug your legs while crying and apologizing profusely, she didn't do it, all because she didn't want to scare you again.

"Y-y/n....."

"Death........can we.....talk?"

"O-of course"

She dusted the spot beside her on the couch and couldn't hide her disappointment when you sat on the edge instead of near her

"I wanted to.......wait were you crying too?"

"Too?"

It was now that she noticed your red, puffy eyes, she wanted nothing more than to wipe your tears like she did with hers, but she controlled her impulses again

"I'm sorry I shouldn't-"

"Don't apologize"

"E-eh?"

"Nothing that happened was your fault, it was all mine, I lied to you for so long, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I don't deserve your forgiveness much less your apologies"

"......no I still need to apologize"

"H-huh?"

"I shouldn't have run away like that, I was scared for no reason, I should have known that you'd never hurt me, I'm sorry"

"..............."

"Death?......are you....willing to not lie to me again?"

".....of course......."

"Then......I think I'm willing to make things work"

"..w-what?"

"I want us to keep dating"

"......but why?"

"Cause I love you"

"......b-but what if I'm manipulating you? And using you for my own goals? You're seriously going to just forgive me like this? You don't know if I actually love you"

"......do you?"

"......u-uh?"

"Do you love me?"

In that moment every single one of death's cells answered I'm unison, simply because it was the truth

"......yes, more than anything"

"Then there's no problem right?"

".......w-what?"

"I want to trust you, every single day we've been together I felt love, and not only my own, I could feel the love you have for me, it felt too real to be fake......and even if it was, that's a bet I'm willing to make"

"Y-you........what?....w-why?"

"If you really don't love me, if you really are just using me for whatever plan to destroy humanity you have.......then that's that, I'll keep following my heart no matter what, and right now, my heart is saying that you crying for the first time because of me is not something that can be faked"

"........y/n......."

"I'd much rather live a short life spent trusting people that I actually love rather than a long mediocre one spent running away from people in fear that I'll get my heart broken"

Those words made death realize something, something that she couldn't help but utter in that rare moment of vulnerability

".....humanity.....truly is beautiful"

"What do you mean?"

"Right now, you'd rather take a chance with the actual devil of death than stray away from your emotions, you're true to yourself in the most extreme sense.....You're not scared of death"

"Really?"

"You're not leaving me or running away, which would be all reasonable options, just because you love me and don't want to believe my love was fake, you're willing to stay with me and taking a chance at dying just because you love me.....You're so...beautiful, your soul is the most beautiful and just thing in this universe"

"......thank you"

"And I promise, for as long as I will live I will continue loving your beautiful soul, I cannot accept you showing me your trust like this without trusting you equally"

".......so...no more lies?"

"Forever, I will always be truthful to you"

"......then that's all I need to hear"

Much to death's surprise you hugged her, you kept breathing on her chest, she looked at you before quickly hugging you back

"You're smiling"

"Huh?"

The devil hadn't even realized it, but she was indeed smiling

"Your smile is so beautiful"

".......thank you"

You broke the hug and looked at death with a smile that melted her heart

"Now we have a lot of cake to get through, we can make this a party to celebrate our relationship or something"

"No we can still make this my birthday"

"Oh OK, sure"

In a way this was her new birthday, because this day she had been reborn thanks to you, into the pure and truthful woman you would be dating from now on

You grabbed her hand and tried to drag her up from the couch, which didn't work because of how strong and tall she was, so she just got up and held your hand even more tightly while looking at you......and smiling

"Thank you y/n, thank you so much"

"Hm? For what?"

".....for loving me"

[jeysbvck]

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

-

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

-

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

-

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this. 

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

*

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

-

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway

[witchpassing]

sorry i don't know where else to ask this so i just arbitrarily picked someone out of the tag who has anonymous asks on (i do not want to make a post on my main about it). is empty spaces explicitly a yuri tag, or is it just popular among lesbians? i don't want to crosstag by accident, so i have been trying to find an answer to this without asking anyone because i know it's probably a stupid question. haven't been able to find anything, though.

i am also not a trans woman, so my second question is about whether empty spaces (or in a more general sense, identifying with some of the ideas presented) is 'culturally closed' as it were. if it is supposed to be a space for trans women, i do not want to intrude into that.

i get that these are probably incredibly stupid questions, and my only excuse is that i am a bit stupid and bad at demographic research. i am aware that the fact i do not already know the answers to these questions may indicate that i should not be asking them, but i don't know this for sure either. i am not looking for any specific answer, and with regards to my second question, if i should not be engaging with the tag, i will promptly add it to my filter list. i only ask because i feel like some of my thoughts might be of interest to the tag's residents; if not, i am perfectly capable of having those thoughts in a more appropriate space, or discarding them entirely if no appropriate space exists.

thank you for your patience. you are under no obligation to answer, and i'm very sorry for wasting your time.

good day, anonymous, and thank you for your question. i'll preface my answer by stating that empty spaces, especially in its contemporary form, is many things to many people*; i can only speak here on my personal understanding of it and my preferred approach thereto.

to address your first question first: no, ES is not an intrinsically lesbian subgenre. there has always been a strong orientation towards f/f, yuri, whatever one might like to call it, but it is not a hard rule. there are no hard rules; except, perhaps, 'we'll know empty spaces is dead when someone makes a wiki.'

to your second question, the roots of the movement are in the exploration of themes of disposability, identity, and abuse through a transfeminine lens; in what i consider to be the most valuable fruits of the movement, the dolls and the witches and all the rest are a troupe of archetypes, a flash-fiction sicko's commedia dell'arte, through which these bitter, wrenching feelings may be articulated in sharp relief. does this constitute a closed space, a transfeminine closed practice? if it was, could we hold such a line against those outside it? can i hold it against you, in any way that matters?

plainly, no, i cannot. perhaps it was possible, once, before subculture became subgenre and ES spilled and shattered a thousand ways, but what is to be gained by playing at purity now? i will neither forbid you nor permit you entrance. speak, and see who listens.

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 5

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner!Javier Pena)

Word count: 4,200

Summary: Dealing with emotions is difficult when you and Dave realize how you really feel about each other. When a night in turns sour, you seek help from an unexpected source.

(spoilers beneath the cut so beware)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for smut. Feelings of angst about failed relationship. Fantasizing. Dave in gray sweatpants OML. Fix-it Dave ooh la la! Mention of sex toys/masturbation (f & m). Reader and Dave are down so bad for each other and feeling extremely guilty over it. Pineapple on pizza is its own warning. Fluff. Soft!Dave. Tipsy kissing/making out. Dry humping. You and Dave have your first big fight. Shower self-love. Sex with an Ex. (Sorry about that, but we all make mistakes, right?)

Author's note: We've reached the angst-y part of the story. The course of true love never runs smooth round here, folks. Thanks for everyone sticking through!

Series Masterlist

Despite your blossoming friendship with Dave, who's been a rock and a safe space for you post-divorce, sometimes intrusive thoughts come in the form of your ex-husband Javier.

You really can't help it - you'd been with him so long and he'd been the main man in your life, your first, your only. It still feels like infidelity when you try out a dating app just to test the waters. You imagine him doing the same thing then chastise yourself for thinking that Javier would even need to advertise himself just to get a woman. He's probably forgotten all about you by now, probably fucking every cocktail waitress in his establishment, not a thought or care for you while he's chasing tail.

It makes you angry when you linger on who's been in the bed you shared with him, rolled around in the sheets you picked out, whose moans were muffled by the pillows you'd bought specifically for their perfect fluffiness.

Whenever you get an intrusive thought about Javier, you simply think of Dave, and the first detail that comes to mind is his eyes.

You've noticed the subtle way they scan you from head to toe, making you hyper-aware of your chosen outfit of the day. He doesn't linger on any certain part, and you're grateful he can hide whatever thoughts he has. When you speak he seems to truly listen instead of waiting for you to finish so he can talk. And when he smiles or laughs, his eyes have the most adorable crinkles in the corners. You've caught yourself staring too long more than a few times.

If you let your imagination drift even further you think about his lips, how soft they look, the way his tongue swipes across them after a sip of your freshly brewed coffee.

It's easy to forget that he's married, especially when it's just so easy between you, so natural. You tell yourself not to get too sentimental over someone who has a wife and kids, an entire life separate from you that existed before you knew him.

Trying to put your new bed frame together, you realize you don't have you don't have the right tools to complete it. When he finally calls you back you can hear him out of breath on the other line.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" you ask, a little flustered.

"No, just finished my run," he says.

You explain about your task, and lack of tools for it. He offers his own toolkit and says he'll meet you at your place in twenty.

When you answer the door for him, you're taken aback. Usually in a suit, or at the very least, trousers or jeans and a button-up, it's a strange thrill to see him so casual in dark blue t-shirt and gray sweatpants, toolbox in his hand.

...gray sweatpants.

Your eyes drift downward of their own accord, the quintessential female gaze. Dave waits patiently for you to let him in.

"Sorry!" Heat rushes to the surface of your skin as you lead him to your bedroom, offering water or anything else to drink. Less than an hour later you have the bed frame put together, boxspring, mattress, and sheets on top.

"You can shower here, if you want," you offer, bringing him a green apple Gatorade. He hesitates at first, then admits it'd probably be easier than having to drive back home in sweaty clothes.

While he's in the shower you wash his clothes, trying not to think about him under the hot spray. Has he left the door unlocked? Do you dare to test it? You tell yourself these are irrational thoughts, brought on because he's a new friend and you find him attractive. Once he leaves you're going to put your rose toy to good use for the rest of the night.

Of course he's perfect. He's a lawyer for god's sake. And he's kind, and gorgeous, and so smart, and funny. He likes old movies, he's a good dad, he remembers little things about me, he really listens when I'm talking, and of course he has a perfect cock. I haven't seen it yet, but I know it's big. Maybe even bigger than Javier. Ugh, don't think about him. Think about those gray sweatpants and how good they'd look on my bedroom floor, or maybe even slid down just low enough for him to slide right in-

"Sweetie?" your mom's voice cuts through your fantasy.

"Hm?" You sit up in your chair, swallowing the saliva that's pooled in your mouth, along with the tanginess of the mimosas your mom had made for brunch. Your mom and sister chuckle, exchanging a glance.

"You're on another planet," your sister remarks. "Mom's got a menopausal snail trail going. You're better off tuning out."

Your mother swats at your sister's arm. "I was just talking about that gorgeous Idris Elba. He's my hall pass, you know."

"Mom," you groan. "I don't think we need to know everything about you."

The Sunday morning conversation has turned to men, and you wonder if you've given off signals of your own romantic confusion. You cheeks feel hot and you blame it on the champagne cocktails.

"You've hardly touched your crepes," your mom says, fussing over you. "I hope you're not running a fever." She checks for a temperature on your forehead.

"I'm okay, I promise," you tell her.

"I hope you're not overworking yourself, dear."

You don't want the attention on you because you're sure your mother will tap into her trusty intuition and notice something's off, maybe even read your thoughts.

Luckily your sister takes over, talking about the art program she's starting next semester, and you mouth a 'thank you' as your mother gives her attention instead.

To properly thank Dave for his help, you invite him over for homemade pizza. You hold your own little contest to see whose toppings are better, You allow him the win, simply because he's the only other person you know who adores pineapple on pizza.

Dinner turns into a movie night, and you open up to him in a new way as you scroll through the streaming service app, giving him a glimpse of tv shows and documentaries you've not caught up on, and ones you listed as to-watch.

Over a bottle of moscato and a shared bag of Starburst (you disagree on your favorites when he says strawberry is best, when clearly cherry is the winner) you settle in in front of the warm glow of the tv as you play a movie.

You lean your head on his shoulder and Dave tries to ignore the way his body reacts to your closeness, the way your soft hair brushes against his skin, the subtle scent of your shampoo rising up to greet him, to tease him. He wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I really like this.. spending time with you," you murmur, eyes on the tv before they flicker up to meet his. "I mean it."

"I like spending time with you too. You seem happier," he notes, eyes taking in every feature of your face from the sparkle in your eyes to the chicken pox scar right above your eyebrow that he finds so endearing. Technically, his words are a lie. He loves spending his time with you. The more he's with you the more he realizes the small things in life he's been missing out on, like seeing a painting for the details for the first time rather than the big picture as a whole.

You shrug. "I'm happy for the most part. I have mostly everything I want. I should be really happy with 'mostly.' Not everyone gets to have a 'mostly.'"

"That's true," he responds, feeling as if you're talking about his own life, the missing pieces somehow missing when you're together. "Maybe all life is, is just enjoying the 'mostly.'" Without thinking about it he brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The small simple gesture makes you shiver as the air between you thickens with tension.

"More wine?" you ask in hopes of breaking the spell

He accepts, and you refill both your glasses, clinking your glasses together in a quick toast. For one brief moment as your lips touch the wine you allow yourself the audacity to think about his wife.

You open your mouth to speak then shut it, thinking better of it.

"No, say it," Dave smirks. "What's on your mind?"

Guilt, the kind only truly innocent people can feel, keeps you from looking at him when you ask, "Does Carol ever accuse you of anything going on between us?"

He honestly hasn't expected that question, the wine dulling his usually sharp perception. "No, she doesn't. I don't think she knows about 'us' at all."

"Okay," you nod. "Good.."

"Why'd you ask?"

"I just think if she had any suspicion then we'd have to take a step back, out of respect, you know?"

Suddenly the thought of stepping back into anything resembling the life he had before he met you sounds unpalatable. "Do you want to take a step back?"

"No, I don't," you're quick to reply. "But if she ever thought.." you sigh, leaving that thought unfinished. "I'm just projecting my trust issues where they don't need to go.."

"I see where you're coming from," Dave says. "But I'm telling you, I could leave town for a week and Carol wouldn't question it, so long as the money shows up in our joint bank account and as long as I'm on time for whatever black tie charity event she's spearheading that week."

You smile, stroking his arm. "See? This is why I like you. We hold our own little pity parties and drink wine and watch old movies." And when you rest your head on his shoulder again, it takes everything in him to keep from pressing his lips to the top of your head.

"Do you want to watch another one?" you ask. "Or do you have to get home?"

He's tempted, so tempted to stay, to bask in the lovely warmth that is you. But now you've put Carol in his mind and he's starting to sober up just a little. "I should probably get going. I've got a meeting tomorrow morning."

"Oh.." you try to hide your disappointment. "Of course. I understand."

Dave takes a breath to clear his dangerous thoughts, downing the last of the wine in his glass before he focuses on ordering an Uber. Though you'd promised you could drive him home, he didn't want to risk it as you'd also been drinking. "Should be here in fifteen minutes," he says, stumbling forward as he tries to stand.

"Whoa.. hey," you chuckle, holding him steady. He manages to stay on his feet, holding onto your shoulders. He feels the heat radiating off you, he can smell the freesia of your perfume. His body reacts on an instinctual level, one he hasn't allowed in so long. He needs to have you. Right now.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, steadying him. "I can drive you home. Cancel your ride." Your hand cups his cheek.

The heat that's been building up in his chest has moved further down towards his groin, your touch only furthering his struggle to control his thoughts. "No, no.. better not risk it. We've both been drinking," he says, the one principle that hasn't been clouded by your proximity.

"I guess wine sneaks up on the best of us," you admit, feeling the effects after all. "I just want to make sure you'll get home okay."

His hands travel down, landing at your waist as he leans his head on top of yours. "I am home.."

Your eyes close, body heating up with the closeness of him, the familiarity that you've thought about but never acted on. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, bringing you close together, the beat of your hearts nearly tangible.

"No one's touched me since.." Since Javier is what you mean to say, but uttering his name feels sacrilegious in the intimacy of the space you share, and a sweet chill goes through you when Dave's hands wander down to your hips. His voice is husky as he says, "I don't know how anybody could keep their hands off you."

Lips parted as you gasp, you try to explain. "I meant touched as in something simple and nice.. like this.." You realize how needy you must sound to him. "..like, how you're holding me now. Just.. friendly."

There's a tightness in his chest at your word. Friendly. That word alone should calm him down, but it has the opposite effect, exciting him further. He wants to give you more than just a friendly touch. He wants to do more than just be friends with you. "Friendly? Is that what you want me to be? Just friendly?"

You nod. "You're my best friend, my only friend these days."

That word is like a knife in his chest, taking away all his restraint. Suddenly both his hands grip your ass, pulling you into an embrace that is more than just friendly. "Is that all you want me to be?"

"Dave!" you gasp as you're pressed close to him. And fuck he's hard. Maybe this was what you needed to finally cross the line, not just blur it. Desire pools in your abdomen, slick suddenly coating your panties as your mouths finally meet in a hot and hungry kiss, tasting of wine and candy as you roll around on the couch.

Every part of Dave's body that isn't touching yours feels empty. His tongue invades your mouth, hips settling between your thighs, grinding himself against you. Your fingers card through his hair, tongue dueling against his. He'd imagined this for weeks now, but was never sure he'd ever feel this with you. He wants more, he wants all of you. This fact is cemented as you pull his tongue into your own mouth, sucking on it.

"Wait.. wait.." you groan, pushing him away. "We can't."

He groans as well, all rational thought foreign to him as most of his blood has journeyed south, evident in the unmistakable bulge you'd just enjoyed him teasing you with. He gives himself some time to cool down as you move away from him. "Yeah.." he says eventually, head in his hands. "You're right, we can't."

Still worked up, you sigh deeply, still tasting him on your tongue, still feeling the rocking of his hips. "If I sleep with you then I'm no better than any of those bitches who slept with Javier."

There's a sharp look in his eyes as he pins you down with his stare, his pride wounded. "Hey. Don't ever compare me to that bastard. I am nothing like him."

"Dave, I didn't mean-"

He knows it's probably the blue balls talking, all the heat of the moment soured from its initial passion. He holds up his hand to stop you from saying anything further, from explaining what he doesn't want to hear. His mind starts to clear. He'd let himself get carried away. He's in your home, drinking your wine, sitting on your sofa, and getting ready to fuck you the way he'd imagined it so many times before. He stands and steps away from you. "If I was just like him I wouldn't give a damn about you. I'd have taken what I wanted and left without a single thought for you." To add salt to the burn he adds, "It would have been that easy."

Anger and hurt flares within you. "Careful, Dave. You're on the same path he started on, and it's a slippery slope for cheaters."

His eyes widen in surprise at your coldness, forgetting how icy his own words had been towards you. He'd come to you for fun and comfort, to shed the stress of work and life, not to get in your pants, though he's not upset it had nearly gone that way. "You think I came here tonight to cheat on my wife? You think I'm trying to be the next scumbag to break your heart?"

"You spend all this time with me instead of your own wife. And just now.." you release a shuddering breath, "you mean to tell me that if I hadn't stopped you we wouldn't be rutting against each other like wild dogs?"

Dave's anger dissipates, replaced by a sense of shame. You're calling him out big time, and he doesn't really have a response. He's spent more time with you in the past few months than he has with his wife in over a year. With a frustrated sigh he lets his head hang.

Through the living room window you see a pair of headlights pull up to the curb outside your house. "You should go. Your Uber's here."

"Yeah," he mutters, getting his jacket before he heads for the door. You watch him leave, so many other things you want to say are on the tip of your tongue, but you don't dare let them loose. You've already crossed a line with him, and you can't forgive yourself for the way you feel about him. His leaving is for the best.

The air is cool outside, letting the heat dissolve in his system, bringing some lucidity to his situation. But it doesn't help the gnawing feeling inside, his anger at himself for speaking that way to you. He's a ball of emotion right now. Before getting into his ride he casts one last glance at your window. There you are, the most beautiful woman he's ever known, the one he's fantasized about and lost sleep over. He came so close to having you to himself tonight, but you were right to stop him. It was a mistake.

He tries to compose himself in the backseat of the Uber, to make sense of who you are and what you mean to him. Of course you would attach yourself to the one man who'd been there for you to sever your connection to your ex. Maybe you had an innate gratitude, maybe you saw him as a hero. That's all it could be.

Suddenly his cell phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. Carol's name flashes on the screen.

"Honey, where are you?" she asks when he answers.

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose. "Hey, babe. I just went for a drink after work. What's up?"

"I just miss you," she says.

A wave of guilt courses through him, sharp and hot. Nauseating. "I miss you too, babe. I'll be home soon."

It's a surprise for him to be greeted by her as soon as he comes through the door. Even more so when she reaches up to kiss him. "You taste sweet. Like candy," she comments with a smile.

Her lips are soft, familiar, but they cause no reaction in him like they used to. Not like how kissing you felt. He gently pulls away, removing his jacket and putting it on the coathanger. "I had some jello shots at the bar," he lies.

Behind him, she puts her arms around his middle. "The girls are asleep. Want to come upstairs?"

Dave's body and his mind recoil, his guilt piloting his next move. Does she know? Can she sense it? "I'm a bit tired," he answers. "I think I'm just going to shower and go to bed."

"I could join you.."

A rush of heat is sent straight to his dick at her persistence. The thought of getting any type of action tonight is intriguing. But for some crazy reason he can't find the will to say yes.

"Not tonight, babe. I can barely stand straight as it is.."

"Oh." Carol is disappointed. "Are you sure?"

He nods. "Next time, yeah?"

"Yeah. Fine." She moves past him to the kitchen.

Once again he's disappointed her. What if it was a test? Things haven't been great between them, yet she's never accused him of having an affair. Not that he hasn't been tempted, heaven knows he's only a man. But you're the first person to actually make him want to cross that line.

He hates himself and he hates disappointing you and Carol.

Your scent is still on his clothes as he discards them before getting in the shower. He lets the water beat down on him, grabbing the soap and washing away any trace of you on his skin. But if only it could wash away the memory of the way you kissed him back, your body pliant beneath his on the sofa, the way he fit so perfectly between your parted thighs-

Without thinking about it his hand is already fisted around his cock, the soft suds a sad replacement for what he imagines the glorious slipperiness of your tight channel must feel like.

Carol's voice comes through the door, knocking him from his fantasy. "I have to go into work for a little while. I'll see you later."

He rinses the last of the soap off him before turning off the spray. "You're going in now? At this hour?"

"Dave, it's a hospital. They never close. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay.. bye. Be safe," he says, getting out and drying off his hair.

It's hours later and Dave still hasn't caught a wink of sleep. He's tossed and turned, punched his pillow, flipped it, punched it again. Carol is still gone. Once, Alice wakes up and asks him for a glass of water, which he happily obliges as it allows him to do something other than thinking. But as soon as she's had her drink she goes back to sleep and he's left alone with his thoughts again.

It's a few hours before dawn when he gets a text from you:

Hey, I'll pick you up later today to get your car from my place.

Dave exhales deeply. He can't just ignore you. He really does need his car back. But distance is the only way he can control himself right now.

Don't worry about it. I'll get Carol to drop me off and get it. Thanks though.

He waits for the read reply and gets no response from you. In this he feels more regret than satisfaction. Yet his thoughts still drift to the taste of your mouth, your body crushed against his, your hands in his hair. Desperate for release, the only way he's going to get any sleep is to take care of himself, to finish what he'd started in the shower earlier.

He'd left you so on edge, but it wasn't his fault. As Dave's Uber left with him in it, you hated yourself for what you did next. You picked up your phone and called the one person you shouldn't have.

Still wrapped in the bedsheets, you watch as Javier lights a cigarette and exhales a puff of smoke as he rests against the headboard. Both of you are still sweaty, the pleasure fading to a gentle throb between your legs as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

"I miss you," he says, running a finger along your bare arm.

"This was a mistake," you tell him, shaking your head. You never imagined that you'd feel disgust and shame after such a passionate encounter, but the life you've lived since leaving your husband has shown you a million more possibilities, and you're ashamed that you've fallen back into one that's already been proven not to bring you happiness.

"Don't say that, mi amor" he begs, stamping out his cigarette and reaching out for you as you reach over for your clothes on the floor. "You came to me for a reason. You must still have love for me in your heart."

"I came back to familiarity," you correct him, cursing when you can't find your underwear. Just moments before he'd had you in every position and even a few ones you didn't know existed. He'd counted out loud each time your cunt quivered around him, as if taunting you. "And now I'm truly done."

"Done? With me?"

"Javi, honey, you're only good for one thing," you tell him, shimmying into your panties.

And just to prove the universe has a sense of humor, in walks Cindy, the woman you'd found Javi cheating with in this very bed.

"Great.. just great," you mutter, getting the rest of your clothes on. "Don't worry, Cindy, I'm not staying, Not ever again, I hope you enjoy the house. I did all the decorating. But a little word of advice: give your relationship a second thought. If he cheated on me, he'll do the same to you. You can't build your house on another woman's tears and expect it to stand."

Cindy is still speechless at your presence, and Javi just hangs his head.

"Everything that's attractive and charming and fun about him now will eventually wear off. Cindy, you're young and beautiful. Find someone who isn't going to ruin that."

With one more look around, you leave, more confident than you've ever felt in your life.

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal @sunnytuliptime

@mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk

@almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647

@milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors @misstokyo7love

@ppascalq

[the-kr8tor]

YAAAAAYYY REQUESTS! so something simple but angsty? maybe? reader can’t get out of bed. like literally ever. they always have to make plans way in advance so that they can know when they actually have to get up and do things (that’s on depression baby) and hobie, however, always wants to go out with reader. and one day hobie wakes up reader to take them out and they snap. i don’t know where i’m going with this it’s just really relatable to me 😭

Thank you so much for being patient with your request! I hope you like it ❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW depression, CW anxiety, CW panic attack, hurt/comfort, CW food mentions, established relationship.

Also requested by anon: Sorry to bother friend but may I ask for a comfort piece of hobie comforting reader when the depression just hits extra bad one night and they’re struggling to accept and believe that they’re loved 🥺? Like they full know that they’re cared and loved for but their brain just refuses to let them accept it and suddenly the thoughts just spiral from there. Feel free to skip and ignore if you aren’t comfy with this. Love your writing sm <3

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Your eyelashes stick together, tears clinging in each strand as you vigorously wipe it all away with your sleeve. The clock on your night stand blinks, the late afternoon time mocking you for not getting out of bed the whole day when you have plans. Or Hobie has plans that you truly don't feel like getting up for, or for anything else.

The boulder on your chest feels heavier today, heaving through it, inhaling through the stale air of your bedroom. You've curled around yourself, been in the same position for hours now. Back aching, legs numb and fingers tingling from wracking sobs you've let out. It feels as if the dark envelopes you, ebbing through you, embracing you as its own. Sometimes the world feels like that, sometimes it's better— when the light would shine on your skin, laughter in your chest instead of the heaviness wrought by everything. Sometimes, his whispered words help you, sometimes it drags you back down. And as much as you want to bask in the night, the sorrow drags you down into the void.

It's just there, gnawing inside of you until you're no more. You feel like you're nothing in your bed, sheets sticking to your clammy flesh, pillow marked by tears. You were doing well, better than before but it tugged you back, and it feels like the very walls you exist in are crumbling down on you.

The muffled sounds of your breathing are joined by the sound of keys jingling outside. You know who it is, and you'd usually greet him with a smile and kiss or two. But right now, all you want to do is lay there, let the mattress hold you in its embrace.

“You ready, love?” Hobie comes sauntering in the bedroom, all decked out in his leather and denim outfit for tonight's party. And yet, he finds you still in bed, face tucked in between the pillows and body hidden underneath the dense blanket. His smile wavers, socked feet slowly closing the distance. “Love?” You're a stark contrast to him, dressed to nines compared to your pajama pants and old worn out sleep shirt.

Insecurity nips at you as you stare at how handsome he is. He can have anybody else and yet he puts up with you. You sniff at the thought, head turning further away from him as you feel the bed dip down next to you.

“I–” your voice cracks, words stuck in your throat. “— I don't feel well, Hobie, I'm sorry, you'll have to go on your own.”

His hand reaches towards your shoulder, palm meeting with your stiff muscle. “I'll just stay ‘ere then, keep you company.” He whispers the words, and yet it feels like a knife thrust into your back. You promised him that you'll go, and there you are holding him back.

“No, you should go. They'll look for you.”

Hobie's thumb rubs small circles around your skin, chin propped atop your shoulder blade. “They'll look for you too.”

The simple words tug at your heart. “Hobie, please go.” You curl further around yourself. “I'll be fine.”

“I can't leave you like this, love.” He knows it too well, the heaviness that makes a home in you, a trembling blighted thing that would have anyone shaken to their core. He could leave and go out without you, but he can't when his light is being snuffed away at the seams right in front of him. “We can make a day out of today, watch some shite movie on the telly, order somethin' greasy—”

You abruptly turn towards him, eyes red, brows furrowed like you're in pain, and tear stained cheeks glinting in the lamp light. “Please just go.”

His hand instinctively flinches, but as he sees you frown deeply, he lays his palm gently right on your heart. “Can’t, and won't do that, sorry.” He scrunches his nose with a lopsided smile to help ease you, even just for a bit.

“I d–don't want to hold you back.” Warm tears escape from your heavy eyes. “Please just go, I've handled myself like this before, I can do it again.”

“Doesn't mean that you have to go through it alone again.” Hobie says softly, words sticking to your chest. “‘m ‘ere now, love, and you're not holdin’ me back.”

“It’s not your job.” Your hand wraps around his wrist, and he immediately intertwines his fingers around your own, right atop your heart. “You didn't ask for this when we got together.”

“It's not, ‘m doin’ it pro bono.” He jokes, chuckling at the small smile that tugs at your lips. “And I want to stay. I signed up for all of the good and even the bad days, it comes with lovin’ you.” Hobie smiles gently, palm placed on your head as he rubs you lovingly. His thumb brushes along the corner of your eye wiping away any stray tears. “Do you really want me to go? I'll stay by the door though, no way in freezin’ hell ‘m leavin’ you.”

You gaze up at him with shining eyes. His words strike the shadow looming over you, it still lingers, but with Hobie cradling your face and his warmth ebbing through you, it helps. His presence helps.

“...Can you really stay? I can't promise how long I'll be like this.”

“I'll wait it out with you.” With a tug at his sleeve, you pull him towards you in a tight embrace.

[gyllenhaalstories]

ALIBI — RUSTY SABICH

summary: rusty seeks comfort in someone from his past to hide from both the present and the future.

warnings: mentions of cheating & the murder, mostly angst, smut (pussy eating, penetration, marking & hickeys, accidental creampie, some elements of noncon). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4075

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i was going off the vibes from the trailers but there are spoilers from the first two episodes. this was supposed to be all smut but then i didn't feel like writing smut so it was all angst but then i remembered i'm bad at writing angst so now it's... a mess. sorry? 👓 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it startled you.

You had been on the edge all day, ever since you received a mysterious letter in your mailbox. The enveloppe was bare, the paper did not look much better. It could have been a bad prank for all you knew, it was not addressed to anyone specifically nor did it have the information required to return it. If it had not been of the familiar penmanship that wrote the words I'll be here at midnight, you would have believed that the letter was completely anonymous.

Rusty stood on the other side of the door, his body completely frozen while his mind and his heart raced faster than ever before. It was a bad idea, one of the worst ideas. He tried to make sure that nobody had followed him, but how could he know? How could he completely be sure there was not a car parked in the darkness of the night?

You ripped the metaphorical bandaid off. "What are you doing here?" You gripped on the door knob tightly, fighting the urge to slam the door back in his face.

He looked down at his feet. "You got my letter."

You were not having any of his misplaced timidity. He reached out, he needed to face the consequences. He needed to face you. So, you stepped out of the way and let him make a decision. Whether he walked away before it was too late, or whether he...

Rusty's shoulder bumped against yours while he made his way into your home. Memories flooded his mind. Memories of the two of you talking, laughing, kissing and...

"What are you doing here?" You repeated, this time with more annoyance in your voice.

He stopped reminiscing the past you shared. "I had nowhere else to go. I have no one else, but..."

"You don't have me either. You made that very clear when you disappeared. It's been so long, I started to believe you forgot I even existed. When was the last time we talked?"

When Carolyn started working. "It's been a long time, I know."

"You know everything, don't you?" You stated and closed the door. Rusty stood there, almost as clueless as you about his presence. You eyed him from head to toes and scoffed.

He flinched, expecting you to go on with another lecture about how he was such a horrible man. You did not, you knew he would like that too much.

You walked towards the living room and crashed on couch, as far as you could be from him. The distance made you feel safer. Only this safety was ephemeral and fragile.

"I, huh... I just," he stuttered and clenched his jaw while trying to compose himself. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I needed you."

You scoffed again at the use of past tense. Before you could talk back, he continued.

"I need you."

That confession weighted heavy in the air for several long, agonizing minutes. He came to you. He would have to work hard to get whatever he wanted from you.

Rusty fidgeted with his ring finger. Muscle memory.

You crossed your arms against your chest. You had showed this man more patience than he deserved. "Do you want a hug? Do you want me to tell you everything's gonna be okay?

He glanced in your direction, just long enough for you to notice the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I'm not the lawyer who's gonna defend your fake alibi, I'm not the detective who's gonna scrap pieces of evidence for you. I'm not the one who's going to get you out of trouble." You bombarded him with all of these options that he had once considered, crossing them off his list one after the other. "I'm not what you need."

"Yes, you are!" He raised his voice and you lifted a brow at his outburst. He hated being cornered, he hated being on the receiving hand of a tactic he had used one too many times in court. "I need you!" He shouted, he surprised himself.

You blinked and suddenly he was in front of you. He stood, tall but not strong. The louder he yelled, the weaker he felt.

"I need you to help me." You locked eyes with him, daring him to go on. "I need you to help me forget." He did not need to speak her name for you to figure out he was talking about Carolyn.

You laughed at him, as if you were hit with a sudden case of hysteria.

Your reaction made him walk away with his tail between his legs. He sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"You think you're so brave. Huh?" You smiled at him, in complete disbelief. "You were talking shit about how you wanted to leave your wife for me. The worst part is... I believed you." He seemed surprised once again. "Then you left me for another woman who died because of you. And now..." Your smile faded and your arms fell to your sides. "You're crawling back to me because you feel lonely?"

This was a mistake. He thought, he hoped, you would be different. He had enough of people berating him. He sprung to his feet and paced around your living room, planning his next move... His next words.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek while he behaved like an animal in cage. "Rusty..." You sighed, slowly giving in without your own consent. You opened the door of the cage.

"I know you feel lonely too." Rusty clenched his jaw. He stood firm in his word. Suddenly he remembered a conversation he had, not too long ago, about taking responsibility. "And I know I'm asking for a lot." His upper lip curled, his body reacting strangely to this rare case of acknowledgement and awareness. Perhaps it could have been... Guilt.

It was your turn to be surprised. This was uncommon, unnatural. You could not quite decipher if he was genuine or not. The longer you stared at him, studying and scrutinizing him, the harder it became to figure out what was going on inside his head. However, you noticed a shift.

Rusty knew he was getting to you. You no longer had the entire control over this conversation. He reentered your house and your life. While you told him you did not want him back, your body was saying something completely different. You expected him to visit, yet you dressed up so lightly in a shirt that hugged your curves and pants he could easily rip open. You never missed an occasion to drink him in, to appreciate the countless hours he spent at the pool to swim through his thoughts. The tough version of you that opened the door with an anger-filled soul softened up faster than he had imagined.

You eyed him up and down again. "This isn't going to end well." You spoke mostly to yourself. He heard you, but did not acknowledge the bad omen.

Rusty knelt before you. Not once did he break eye contact while he crawled, bringing your words into reality. He leaned back when he reached your legs and waited. He waited for you to tell him no, knowing it would only make him crave it more. Rusty rarely took no for an answer anyway.

You reached your hand to stroke his hair. You waited, too. You waited for him to realize he was taking the wrong decision. You waited to gather enough courage, although you were not too sure what to used that courage for.

He leaned into your hand that slid down to his cheek. You reminded him that the chase of thrills and butterflies could hardly compete with someone who had the magical power of calming him down, of making the whole world disappear.

You leaned forward and reached for his glasses that you gently removed. You took a moment to admire the sight of him: the muscles of his thighs almost bursting through his jeans, his chest heaving as if his hoodie made him so hot that he was melting, his eyes begging for your permission.

He watched you set his glasses away on the couch, safe and sound. He turned his head back to you while you lifted yourself off the couch to take off your sleeping pants. Rusty helped you pull them off, he threw them as far away as he could. He decided for you that there was no turning back. He then placed his hands on your knees, ready to part your legs open.

"I'm gonna regret this." You would, but Rusty would not. You locked eyes with him again and drowned into his darkened gaze. "You better make sure it's worth it."

Rusty faced a dilemma: he was unsure whether he wanted to take his time and savour the moment or dive into it head first. The throb of his cock, confined under his clothes, decided for him.

Your body showed no resistance to his touch, your legs opened easily with the light pressure he applied. His tongue licked a long stripe on your inner thigh while he made his way to your core.

You adjusted your position, sitting more lazily on the couch while he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He peppered kisses on your pussy before he used his thumbs to spread it open for him. At the first taste, he was addicted. More so, he was reminded of the addiction that had him sneaking out day and night just to eat you out.

Your back arched, pressing yourself against his mouth when he sucked on your clit. You fought back your moans, but, once again, your body betrayed you.

"Missed you so much," Rusty spoke against your skin. He spat on your pussy and caught the drops that dripped down with his tongue. He made a mess, not that he had to try very hard for it. You were already wet for him, he liked to think it was just a reflex you had failed to break since the day he left. "I missed you so fucking much."

You placed a hand on his head, pulling on his short hair. You refused to believe his words, but they sounded so nice. Almost honest.

Rusty began to lap at your folds, making his nose bump against your clit. He swallowed the juices that leaked from your entrance, but he was still left craving more.

You gasped loudly when his tongue teased your hole. You pressed his face against you, as if he could get even closer than he already was.

Rusty palmed at his rock hard cock, moaning into your pussy as he did that. He touched himself over his clothes while he finally focused on your aching clit, flicking his tongue on it to make you squirm. He tried to fight against the movements of your hips, making sure his mouth never left you.

Your legs started to close around Rusty's face, which did not bother him in the slightest. You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch him while he brought you closer to the edge. He just looked so beautiful.

The vein on his temple was bulging, almost pulsating to match his heart beat. He let go of his crotch and helped you to put your thighs on his broad shoulders, encourage you to let go, to give in.

You were not ready to satisfy him just yet. You wanted this moment to last, you wanted it to be worth the guilt and regret you would experience the moment he would walk out the door.

That only made him hungrier. He devoured you like it was the last time, he shared the mutual feeling that it could very well be. He pulled away from you just long enough to catch his breath one last time. He was determined to get what he wanted from you.

In a matter of seconds, your vision got blurry and your toes started to curl.

Rusty's moans only made the sensations greater while his tongue worked you over and had your entire body shaking for him.

You did not need to speak, to tell him to keep going, he knew what to do. He knew how to make you feel better than anyone else ever could. That remained one of his biggest problems, he was a heartless cheater but he was just so fucking good at it.

He slowed down until your thighs relaxed around him and he helped to set them down, still wide open for him to admire the mess he made between your thighs. You were dripping of your own wetness and of his spit. He could have kept going all night, but he had a more urgent need to take care of. He scrambled back on his feet and, without a word, he took off the rest of his clothes.

You did the same, not without admiring his body and especially the throbbing and leaking cock that he stroked.

He admired you too: the way your clit throbbed for him, how your forehead was covered with a layer of sweat despite just sitting there and doing nothing besides screaming while you were cumming.

He surprised you with a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth. You did not want to reciprocate, you wanted to pull away and to protect yourself from falling harder for this man. It was simply pointless. You kissed him back with the same passion that left you both gasping for air.

Rusty helped you to change positions so that you turned around and you were kneeling on the couch and you leaned on the back of the furniture. He leaned forward to kiss your shoulder and all the way down your back. He wanted to print the memory of you in his mind.

Neither of you felt brave enough to speak. You let your bodies do the talking with moans and grunts that blended into a melody while Rusty pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance. His tongue failed to prepare you for the delicious stretch of his cock.

He squeezed your ass cheeks open, trying to catch a glimpse of your pussy gripping on him. That was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He helped you arch your back, taking in the perfect position for him to use your pussy to get off. You felt so fucking good, so tight and wet around him. How could he have waited so long to feel you again? How did he manage to wait all this time?

You bit on your lip so hard that it tasted faintly of blood when he bottomed out. He stopped moving for a few moments, letting you adjust to him.

He pressed his toned chest against your back, cooing at you. When he felt your walls relax around his length, he started moving. The small but deep thrusts made tears pool into your eyes.

You held on the back of the couch for dear life when he fucked you harder, when he let you feel every inch of him nice and deep.

Rusty grunted louder and louder. The noises echoed in your apartment, filling the silence alongside the sound of your skin slapping against his. He was getting closer than he wanted to to admit it, so he stalled again.

You felt his hands on your skin, gliding down your arms. He held your hands in his, making the cushion of the couch cave in under the pressure. You looked down at his left hand, but your eyes closed blissfully before you could notice whether he was wearing his wedding ring or not. Your skin was so hot too, you could not even feel it the metal.

You could not feel anything else than Rusty's cock that was balls deep inside of you or his lips that sucked a few marks on your shoulder.

He kissed his way to your neck, where he nibbled and licked. He was buying time and you could feel it. You could hear it too, with the whimpers that came out of his mouth. He murmured at your ear while he marked you. "I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum."

"Pull out, just, fuck," your voice sounded hoarse from the moans. "Just pull out!"

Rusty cursed under his breath, his thrusts felt more like twitches than anything. His left hand moved down to squeeze on your hip, a rough and bruising grip. "I can’t," his body pressed down on yours. You could barely stay up on your knees. "You feel too fucking good on me."

"No! No, no…" You wanted to get him to move, or even to get off him. Anything really, but your pussy clenched on him with vice-like grip. It was already too late.

Rusty held your hip and your hand tight, giving you no room to escape. He grunted at your ear while he emptied himself in you. Multiple ropes of cum coated your walls and made both yours and his eyes roll to the back of your heads. It felt so good, so wrong yet so right. He should not have done it, he should have pulled out and avoid another situation. He never learned his lessons. This was forbidden. He loved it even more.

"Rusty! That was so fucking stupid." You shouted, there was more shock than anger in your voice. Your poor attempts at squirming out of his embrace failed. Your pussy milked him to his last drop.

The room went painfully silent. No moans, no skin slapping, no couch squeaking. Nothing. There was nothing but erratic breaths and the gears turning silently in your minds. What did he do? He did what he needed to do. He did what he knew you wanted him to do. Even if you told him otherwise, even if you tried to convince yourself of the opposite. "I'm sorry."

It was crystal clear that his apology was empty. As if the lack of conviction in his voice was not enough to prove it, the slow thrusts of his hips sealed the deal.

Languid strokes that made him appreciate the warmth he had craved for so long. "I know, this was wrong." He pressed his clean shaven cheek against yours. Slowly, he picked up the pace until he properly fucked you against the couch. "I'm so fucking sorry." He punctuated each word with a thrust that made you moan louder and louder. He was not going to stop anytime soon. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you until he was ready for a second load.

Only Rusty could fuck you this good. He made sure you learned that lesson, rewarding you with orgasms the more you surrendered to the pleasure he shamelessly gave you.

*~*~*

You felt Rusty's arm slide away from your body, goosebumps spreading on your skin from the sudden lack of warmth. You tried to stay immobile, although your eyes fluttered from struggling to stay closed. You knew he would leave. He always did.

He knew he would leave. He could not stay. He could not stay and drag you down with him once more. Rusty had hurt enough people for the time being, he needed to learn to be careful. To calculate the risks. The risks were too high when they involved you.

A part of you had hoped it would be different this time. Maybe he would stay for breakfast. Maybe he would offer to shower together and go at it again. Maybe he would make another promise he would inevitably break.

Rusty surprised you with a kiss to your cheek, one that lingered and communicated more than words could convey in the moment. He stood up on his tired legs and he stepped over your body to search for his clothes.

You opened your eyes a bit, squinting to catch a glimpse of his naked body roaming around your place. He looked so beautiful, so irresistible. His large back, his muscular legs, his toned ass that he quickly covered with his boxers. You could admire him for days on end. He would never grant you so much time in his presence.

He turned around, guilt and regret stabbed him in the stomach. Unfamiliar feelings. You looked so beautiful, so tempting. The delicate features of your face, the curves of your body, your steady breathing that he'd love to fall asleep to again. He wished he could stay with you and forget about the rest of the world.

You felt his eyes on you. You felt him stare and linger on the marks he left on your body, on the other places he'd love to bruise for his own pleasure.

Before he got riled up and, most importantly, before he failed once more to think with his brain, he finished dressing up in a hurry. If he made it back home before sunrise, no one would know about his escapade.

"Wait." Your mouth spoke despite your mind yelling at you to stay quiet and to pretend to sleep a little longer.

Rusty froze in place. He refused to turn around and look at you. Unless you asked him to.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around your body that he had seen one too many times; your body that he could not even see in the moment. You used the blanket as a shield. An armour to brace for the upcoming impact. "Is she," you cut yourself off. "Was she special?"

You watched his torso rise and fall from the several deep breaths he took before answering. "Very." He did not need one more interrogation, one more trial.

You nodded slowly. "Am I special?"

You watched him experience a myriad of emotions, just by the change in his breathing and how his body tensed up while he searched for an honest answer. This question was a trap.

"Very." He repeated in a whisper. "The most special."

You snickered. His answer felt like just as much of a trap as the question you asked. If you had been the most special to him, why did he pursue Carolyn? Why did he have this grand affair with her and not with you? Why did he risk everything for her and not for you?

As if he could hear the questions running through your mind, he spoke again. "You're the only person I've tried my hardest to protect." He referred to his children that he hurt and sacrificed, to his wife that he lied to and cheated on... To his mistress who died because of his insatiable lust.

It was only then that you finally accepted to face the truth: nobody knew who you were, in relation to Rozat Sabich. He kept you in the shadows, he locked you in a cage. He protected you in this bubble of stolen kisses and broken promises.

If nobody knew that you two shared a long and complex history, he would never have to involve you in this situation more than he already did the night before. He would not need yet another alibi to cover up the messy trail he left behind.

You held your head in your hands. You hated to see him leave, each time felt like it got closer to being the last time he would walk out of your life for good.

Rusty put on his hoodie and fixed his glasses. He was now facing you, but it was his turn to need an armour so he maintained the distance between the two of you. He stared at you, time felt like it had stopped. His lips parted open to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth.

However, you turned to look at him just in time to catch him mouth the dangerous words I love you. You smiled sadly at him with a tear falling down the same cheek he kissed. It was your way to say I love you too.

And just like that, Rusty opened the door and left without another glance in your direction. The wall between the two of you built itself back up in an instant. That way, he protected you from the world. Most importantly, he protected you from himself. All the history between the two of you would remain a secret.

You were his best kept secret.

[lvlyghost]

Disobedience

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Simon warned you not to go out, but a quick trip to the local pub doesn't seem like a bad idea.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

TW: angst, comfort. overprotective!simon, reader is careless, pregnancy, established relationship. another part(? idk. poorly edited. mind the english. you know the drill 💗🌝

A/N: heh, so i'm down with —another— cold and I was just drifting off to sleep thanks to the meds when this idea hit me so i had to write it down, wish it was longer though, was planning on adding more angst but if this does well a second part might happen; (simon's still mad at reader🌚). enjoy🍂🌝

Masterlist✨

"So you did exactly what I specifically told you not to do?" He mutters, pacing back and forth in front of you, who could only stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. You had never seen him this mad. Not in the two years of relationship you so carefully built up.

It happened the night before he was supposed to return from deployment.

Simon had been gone for two months to a special operation with the task force or so he had told you. He couldn't disclose much about his work so he gave you little-to-no information regarding his mission and part of you felt relieved, he had said countless of times that there were things that he never wanted you to learn about. So you just did what you knew best: hug him and love him endlessly. And he did the same for you.

God knows Simon Riley loved you.

But going out for a few drinks —although you really didn't have any, thank the tiny human growing inside you— seemed harmless. Catching up with your small group of three friends after not seeing each other for months was something that couldn't kill anyone. And in all honesty you were going crazy. Needed a distraction. Fresh air. Break the routine you had fallen onto.

Simon had been gone for a while, and it's something you accepted when you started dating. So he wasn't the one to blame at all. Just like it wasn't his fault that you blatantly disobeyed him when he had called you through a secure line.

'Listen to me, love.' You could practically hear the worry in his voice. Things have taken a turn, yeah? I need you to stay in. Word's spreading these terrorists are targeting... families. I- I just need you to be safe yeah? Until I get home. It'll take a day tops. We don't wanna risk it. Jus' wait for me, please."

Needless to say that you had agreed at first, and it didn't took much convincing from your friends to drag you out. After all, Simon had made sure that you were off the radar to these terrorist or mercenaries. He put so much care to your safety, little people knew about your existence; so there was no reason to be worried right? A few hours of mingling then you'd go back. it's not like you could stand being out for so long either way.

The small bump on your belly was enough reason to call it a night a few hours into the night. Your pregnancy was still at the point where sleep got the best of you. The emotional outbursts were also not rare. The morning sickness that came with it.

But now under Simon's disapproving eyes you wonder if you had taken the right decision to disregard the order he had given you. All for an innocent reunion with the girls. His big hands are on his hips, staring you down with those brown eyes that you love, just not right now. You wonder if this is what the soldiers under his command feel when they're the subject of his ire. You hold back the tears. Fuck, he's not even being so hard on you, not even raising his voice. He'd never do that to you. Disappointing him is something you are not so proud of now.

"I didn't think it would be that bad." Simon scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose as an eerie silence settles between the two. "I know it's the dumbest excuse I- it was going to be for a few hours..."

Until he had barged into the pub. His eyes roaming around the establishment until he locked eyes with you, he had relaxed instantly. The deep pit that had set in his stomach when he got home only to be greeted by a deafening silence began to fade. Then anger reared its ugly head when he silently asked —demanded— you to stand up and led the two out of the place. The ride back in complete silence, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Why couldn't you just obey him for once? It took you hours to completely forget about his warnings. What if they laid hands on you? On his unborn child? Gritting his teeth he had stared forward focusing on anything but the thought of finding your dead body, of him scooping you up all bloodied and unreachable. Gone to somewhere he couldn't follow just yet.

Simon stalks forward sitting down on the coffee table in front of you, wood creaking beneath his weight. He leaned forward, face mere centimeters from yours as his arms rest on his thighs.

"Love." He calls you, and then he softly murmurs your name. "I'm trying to protect you..." he swallows, eyes traveling down to your small bump and then back to you again. "Both of you. If something happened..." Simon's jaw clenched, he doesn't even want to think of the worst scenarios. "We have enemies and i'd never forgive myself..." You stop him, grabbing his gloved hands and squeezing them with yours. The soft touch he had longed for these past months. He absentmindedly caressed your warm skin.

"Nothing's gonna happen, baby." You assured him, he stares intently at your eyes and finds nothing but love.

"Lost people before this way." He breathes out. And you feel like the biggest moron in the world. He's talking about his family. Simon rarely talks about them. "Hell will freeze before I let that happen again." Standing up he follows, arms wrapping around his middle. "Price set up a safe house for us, until things calm down and get the bastards." One of his hands rests on the nape of your neck inhaling the aroma of your shampoo, the other one firmly set on your swollen belly. He's missed this. Just being around you. Feeling you against him.

"You're coming too right? Missed you terribly." He rest his chin on top of your head.

"Don't think I could leave you now even if I had to."

You sigh deeply, placing a kiss on his chest; you wonder if one day the danger will stop. Simon's made many enemies along the years. But his efforts to keep his identity a secret were greater than any threat out there. Now with you and a baby in the way he'd never rest until he was sure no harm will get to you.

[deconstructivesurgery]

my number one character pet peeve and also something that pisses me off in real life too is the fact that i need some of you to understand that you can have an anxiety disorder and still be a massive cunt. or be a very nervous person: who is also a horrible person. you can have anxiety, paranoia, etc. or just generally be a nervous person and also be Reactive instead of shy, reserved, and like quiet anxious. these things don't come with a set morality or mode of expression. this isn't meant to be a huge rant about like the real world ways in which people infantilize the mere concepts of anxiety disorders etc. etc. it's mostly specifically right now me just saying this about every fictional character who has ever gotten weewoo'd into an uwu small socially awkward nervous bean when it's just like. that is a guy in his 30s who seems anxious and nervous and awkward in a "quirky" way i guess who also absolutely does not care that he nearly killed somebody. he has done do before and honestly didn't respond all that much asides from feeling bad for himself over it. that is not your little meow meow that's too awkward and shy to ask for pickles or whatever. here's another guy: he's got bad paranoia and he responds to that with vitriolic, reactive anger and defensiveness rather than quiet, reserved, shaky avoidance. that is Not a sad trembling wet rat of a man, thank you, that title is reserved for sopping beasts of misery. he's not miserable and tired scared, he's fuck-it-we-ball scared. please begin comprehending immediately that people's responses to fear (and what is anxiety, paranoia or 'nerves' if not fear) exist differently and that not everyone who deals with any of the above has the exact same brand of like, shy quiet avoidant response to fear. I'm so not making sense but it's one of those like fan writing things I want to complain about because it's like 8am and I haven't slept. sometimes being too scared of everything can and will make you an asshole and i know this because (flashes you my mental illness badge as a qualification) i know

[cripplecharacters]

For reference, I'm autistic but I'm not physically disabled. I'm wondering if I'm playing into some bad stereotypes with one of my disabled characters. She's primarily a wheelchair user, but she can walk short distances with mobility aids. Basically, she's always visibly disabled.

I gave her quite a few of my own traits (and accidentally made her autistic in the process). One of these traits is I made her aroace. But now I'm thinking it's maybe not the best idea to have an autistic wheelchair user be explicitly uninterested in sex and romance when there's a lot of stereotypes about both groups being uninterested in / incapable of these things. Emphasis on the wheelchair user aspect since that part of her character isn't drawing on my own experiences in the slightest.

If it helps, she's not the only autistic character or the only visibly disabled character in the story. But she is the only wheelchair user, and the only character who's explicitly aspec.

Her being aromantic is pretty essential to her character and storyline, but her being asexual isn't really. I could probably change her sexuality without changing too much else about her. So I guess my main questions are:

1. If I keep her aroace is there anything else I can add to help avoid too many stereotypes regarding sex and romance for wheelchair users?

2. Would making her allosexual help with the situation or would I just be removing an important aspect of representation without doing anything to improve the negative stereotypes?

Thanks for the help

Hello!

While there are stereotypes about physically disabled people not having sex, it's usually more in the realm of "disabled people don't have sex" or "disabled people can't have sex" rather than being about asexuality or aromanticism specifically.

There are stereotypes about autistic people being aromantic or asexual but, as with most stereotypes, there will always be people that fit their description. Their existence is just as important as somebody who doesn't necessarily fit those stereotypes.

This is to say, if your character is aroace and disabled, good for them! That's completely fine, there's nothing wrong with that.

If you are still worried, you could always add more aspec characters or more wheelchair users, though I honestly wouldn't worry too much.

You could also consider having her talk a bit about her experiences being aroace, even if it's just a few throwaway lines here and there. That would help solidify it as being part of her individual identity rather than equating being disabled with being aspec.

In general, though, I don't see anything wrong with this character.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

Hey! I strongly agree with Icarus on adding another wheelchair user that's not aroace. There's nothing wrong with having a disabled aroace character, but it's hard to ignore the fact that often autistic and physically disabled characters get to be the ones headcanoned as aroace because of the "physically disabled/autistic people don't have sex nor romance" stereotype.

Coming from someone disabled and on the aroace spectrum: disabled characters who are aroace are cool, but having disabled characters coincidentally always be the only asexual and/or sex repulsed ones is certainly frustrating. Just put in some variety and you will be good.

If you do want her to be asexual and not add any other character, it would be interesting to see her identities actually intersecting. Does she ever feel "like a stereotype" for being autistic and not being interested in dating? Same thing but for being a wheelchair user who doesn't want sex? Maybe gets annoyed when people assume that her asexuality is caused by her disability, or when interacting with people who just presume that she doesn't have sex/romantic relationships because she's autistic and uses a wheelchair, and not because she's aromantic and asexual? Basically anything to give her depth as a character who is all these things so it doesn't seem like she just got the "default orientation" that disabled characters often end up with in LGBT media.

mod Sasza