#i woke up and couldn't stop thinking about this

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[liketolaugh-writes]

Re: the Fenton Parents-

The thing is, it's not abusive to be just... sort of okay at parenting. It is not abusive to be unable to stop your kid from behaving erratically, to not be able to figure out what's wrong, to not be able to stop your kid from lying to you and sneaking out of the house. They tried! They spend several episodes trying, which is, frankly, a lot of screentime for a 45-episode series (movies excluded)! They just were never able to figure out what was wrong.

(If you're curious: S1E7, S1E17, S2E9, and S3E3 all center around plotlines where the Fenton parents make an active effort to connect with their kids... and that's leaving out episodes where it's merely a major element and not half the plot.)

(It's also not neglectful to assume that a man showing an inappropriate interest in a married adult woman is probably not inappropriately interested in a teenage boy, especially when Danny hasn't said anything. That would frankly be a really weird assumption to make, and it only seems obvious to us because... we already know.)

You can say that they never showed the Fentons taking Danny to the hospital after his accident... but we also aren't shown that they didn't do that. We know nothing about the immediate aftermath of the accident. Stupid Desiree reality-warp episode aside.

It never said that they knew about Danny's accident... it also never said that they didn't. (Personally, I think that it would be super out of character for Jazz to know and not tell them, regardless of whether or not they're neglectful? Jazz, like Danny, has faith in them.)

You can say that we didn't see how the Fentons fed their kids when the food in the house was contaminated... but we also never heard that they didn't do that. There was not a word about missing meals, not even from Jazz.

Do I think the Fentons were abusive?

The simple answer: yes!

The complex answer: But not in any of the ways I usually see depicted.

The thing is- the thing is, I think that the only thing the Fentons did that was genuinely abusive - not just a mistake, not just they could have done better - is their godawful lab safety. That is where they knew better, knew what they were doing was wrong, and did it anyway. The house wasn't safe and that was entirely on them, and danger on that level is criminally neglectful.

But that's a very unusual profile. It's not that they didn't care enough about their kids. It's not that they didn't pay attention to their children, or that they prioritized their work over their family, or that they neglect their responsibilities. (For God's sake, they go to multiple parent-teacher conferences! Jack chaperoned a dance he didn't remember agreeing to attend! Maddie woke up in the middle of the night, not yet knowing there were ghosts around, and immediately went to find Danny!)

They were just, quite literally, criminally irresponsible, which is a different breed of family trauma altogether.

Now, Danny definitely experienced domestic violence. Was Danny physically abused? Absolutely. But because of identity shenanigans, 'was Danny physically abused?' and 'are the Fentons physically abusive?' are two very different questions. 'Was Danny physically abused?' is about Danny's childhood and the trauma he gained from it; 'are the Fentons physically abusive?' is a statement about their personalities. And this extends out to all of the other ways they failed Danny because they never knew about his ghost half.

Did Danny experience that trauma? Yes. Would the Fentons ever knowingly do those things to their child? No. (This contrast causes Danny a lot of stress.)

Of course, a lot of this is still rooted in headcanon, and other interpretations are equally valid! Just as it's never shown that they didn't make sure their kids got every meal, it's also never shown that they did. Just because it's never said that their kids couldn't catch their parents' attention when they needed help, doesn't mean that they could. But I wanted to get my thoughts down, since it's a fairly significant divergence from most of the standard interpretations.

[vengefultakeover]

Daemon: Loose Lid (2)

NOTE: This is the newest edited version of this story

I got up from the bed and looked back at Max sleeping after the long night of exploring his new body. To be fair, he did plenty of exploring my body as well, rolling between the sheets. Never in my life did I think I would find myself in this situation, but I was full of curiosity. I left him on the bed, a slight snore coming from under the blankets, and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. The smell swirled in the air and I enjoyed the scent as I sipped it in front of the machine. Halfway empty, the mug made a small clink as I placed it down on the counter and returned to the bedroom.

Max was grinning at me when I leaned against the wall and he rolled to the edge of the bed, sliding down his underwear to expose the plump mounds Dan had worked so hard on. With a blink, his eyes flicked from their usual hazel to the bright green of the creature currently controlling Dan.

"This body craves you." Max said with a little bit of a growl. I don't think Dan was actually craving me, but the daemon inside him getting to feel human lust.

I was too distracted by the mating display to see the covered jar sliding off the night stand and landing on the carpet with a thunk. The lid, which had come loose from Dan desperately bouncing around inside of it, popped off and rolled along the floor as I quickly scrambled to stop it. Max dug his head into the mattress to avoid his mouth from being exposed, but Dan didn't care much as he bounced off the walls. My eyes followed the blue ball until it went straight for me. I ducked, hearing it bounce off the wall behind me, and then looked up just in time to watch it fly directly towards his exposed hole. With a loud pop the protoplasm disappeared between his cheeks and up into his body. Max howled as he turned over, writhing against the bedspread as he scrambled to pull off his shirt. His chest began to glow and I quickly closed the curtains in the bedroom to avoid any sunlight pouring into the room.

With his back arched, I watched as Max appeared from his chest. He was forced out of his body and landed on two feet in front of me still too large for the room and ducking down to fit. Dan on the other hand woke up in control of his body and was panting as he looked at the two of us in horror.

"Dan, don't panic. I know - " I started.

"No! What the fuck just happened? What the hell is that?" He started to push himself away from us, stumbling off the bed and out into the kitchen without seeing an answer to his questions. As he stumbled, he knocked my half full cup of coffee off the counter and it exploded on the tile. Max jumped into action and caught him at the front door, breathing his green breath into his face. Dan collapsed in Max's grip and he looked over at me with a questioning glance.

"I think it's time we found someone else."

Max needed to stay inside in order to remain safe and made sure all of the blinds were closed. Without a human body protecting him he couldn't go anywhere during daylight hours. This meant that I was left to search for potential bodies. I didn't mind, I was vetting pretty much everyone in our apartment complex. I thought about all the neighbors and one particular asshole came to mind.

The thing about Dan was that he's a good guy. He deserved his body back. I should also say that I am not the end all be all of deciding who deserves their body. That being said, my neighbor is an asshole. Alex is a cocky and cruel son of a bitch. A combo that is particularly deadly considering how hot he is. His mental acuity wasn't great, causing him to puff out his chest to maintain physical superiority when he didn't have the mental one. It only took two knocks for him to open the door, answering it without a shirt and on the phone.

"Hold on, my weird neighbor is at the door, I'll call you back." He hung up, "What's up?"

"Hey there, neighbor, I just needed your assistance. I was - um - making breakfast and I -"

He interrupted me with one of his lighting fast retorts, "Couldn't open a jar with those chicken arms?" He flexed his biceps. This was the usual conversation, he always found a way to talk about his body. I at least had height going for me.

"Yeah, that's exactly it. How did you know?" I was a little smug, but it went right over his head as he followed me inside my apartment. With all the curtains closed, it was relatively dark, which piqued his concern.

"Why is it so dark. You should really open a window, maybe that's why none of the neighbors like you." The airhead was already too far inside and Max slammed the door shut. He picked up the jock like he was weightless and growled at him. He opened his mouth to scream, but Max didn't give him enough time as he started digging in his chest, pulling out his protoplasm with a wet slurp. Alex slumped in his grip and I put him in a fresh jar. This time, I made sure it was airtight before putting it in a drawer in the kitchen. Max climbed over his body and growled at him as he pushed his lips open and started turning into the glimmering dust to enter his body. Max looked back at me just before his demon dog head swirled inside of his body and Alex was convulsing as Max got comfortable inside him.

As he stood, I could tell he felt different inside him. He stretched a bit and walked towards the window to see him in the light. The sliver of sun that slipped in through the fabric travelled the length of his body, standing there is a sexy confidence as his new skin protected him. His eyes flashed green, happy with his new host.

"He feels different than your friend, bigger, stronger," He turned towards me, "hornier." His grin was inviting and I leaned back as he came over, pushing me onto my sofa and straddling me until he decided to push his lips against mine and we were making out. My cock was bulging and I slid off my briefs from underneath us, my cock bouncing out and slapping against his ass cheeks. He removed his workout shorts and I felt his warm ass lowering onto my hard member. I gasped, feeling his hole swallow my cock and he playfully tightened his hole as he took more of me inside him.

"Holy shit." I moaned, pulling him tight into me and making out as I was grinding into him. His pecs bounced with every thrust upwards and my fingers dug into the his muscular back, feeling his whole body against mine tighter as I fucked him. He curled himself into me, gyrating his hips onto my cock as his eyes glowed the beautiful green. I couldn't help but to grab his neck and force him harder onto my cock, slamming his body down like he was a fleshlight. He was smiling as he licked his lips and suddenly I was exploding inside his hole, filling him up as I pushed my head back into the sofa. When I opened my eyes, Max was peering down at me with a smirk, playing with my cock with his hole as I came down from the blissful ecstasy.

"Mmm, I could do that forever." He says, lifting himself off of me. He admires his new form, running his hands along his skin and flexing underneath his fingertips. His fingers circled parts of his skin that had tattoos, admiring the inked images. He even takes a moment to bring his hands up to his ears, flicking the earring.

"I like you inside him. He's much more appealing with you in control." I reach behind him and squeeze his ass, feeling my load drip out of him.

"Oh, do that again." He says, holding my arms in place to do it again. I squeeze again with a little bit more aggression and he shivers. "All of these sensations. It's so different from one body to another." He takes a deep breath, smelling me. Seeing him act like this was making me hard again and I gyrated against him. He smirks with a flash of his green eyes and then reaches back, pulling his cheeks apart and slamming himself down on my cock with an already full ass.

"Holy fuck." I writhe under him.

"Like I said, I could do this forever." He gives me a wet kiss.

A phone buzzes underneath a pile of papers and continues to vibrate until the phone buzzes off the edge of the desk and thumps against the wood floor below. A hand blindly reaches for it and answers it.

"Hello?" The voice is deep and he clears his throat from the early wake up haze. With one hand he wipes away a string of drool connected to the desk where he passed out the night before with an empty glass of hard liquor now watered down by the melted ice.

"It's the Daemon Ritus. It's been stolen." The voice on the other end seemed to be screaming over the sound of the alarms and the man on the phone stood there in silence.

"Fred? Are you there?" The alarms continued to blare as Fred stood there already formulating a plan.

[harleiquina]

Hey! I'm late for the party (because being overworked and underpaid sucks and always ends up in burnout -not fully recovered as of now, just with spare time because its Christmas, I'm working and nobody is calling so I can delve in Tumblr as much as my heart desires-).

First of all... I wrote my original reply around 2 or 3 am because my dog woke me up and I couldn't fall asleep again. So probably I had a point and eventually lead to something else because... sleepy brain goes brr.

About the writing

It is true that between saying it or just leave it out the text, leaving it out of the text is the safer option. There is also the posibility that it was planting an idea that never truly came to be so it is just dangling there with no other purpose... it happened to me a few times that I plant a seed of something in a story and then completely forget about it and sometimes I remember and remove it. I don't know how the time frame and due dates are in the process of creating a comic (if it was written arch per arch or if NG had all planned out and later came up with the different issues) but I guess that is they were going issue per issue -writing, drawing, coloring, formating and eventually printing it- there weren't many options to go back and fix something that didn't worked.

And yes... these were the '90s so... there isn't much to do about it.

In the end of the day, Sandman isn't Hob's story. Maybe there was a chance that if audiences liked him enough there could've been a limited run series of him through time and it didn't happened maybe there was a plan to do so but audiences preffered Death over him (can't blame them). Then the audience could've see him after his meeting with Morpheus and maybe growing a backbone eventually to stop his bussiness with the Slave Trade. We will never know.

Shipping and willingfully-ignorant fans

I'm not into shipping either (I'm not going to deny that in any fandom some edits or fanarts are cute) and in this particular case, even if I understand from where it comes from... I'm so done with it. Maybe if instead of casting the son they would've gone with the father things wouldn't have gone that far 🤣

Mischaracterization is a common phenomena in any fandom, sometimes it could be the main shtick to the plot of one pice of fanfic but when the bee-hive fandom accepts it as official headcanon there is no turning back and you just have to ignore it.

Had fandom had a more accurate-looking Hob they might've reacted differently. I haven't read the comics but I've seen a few panels... and he kind of grosses me out. There is no question there that he was on any easy-way to do money (thief, soldier, slave trader) with little to no remorse. But shippers only see what they want to see and leave any kind of nuance flies out the window.

There are (possibly) many fanfic writers that took Hob's dark past (in general) and did created well grounded stories where he gets to reflect on what he's done and how to atone for it. But fluff is fluff and it gets more views. And I think that's the root of it all... some people just want a cozy coffe-shop AU because they are only in there for the romance, others want to read something that will make them question either the character or themselves, analize how certain events played out or could happen. Pretty much as with movies you have the blockbusters, the historic dramas, the romance and an audience for each one of them.

It might feel like some of them are glossing over a very serious subject that should be treated with respect however there is a different place to tackle those subjects on... hopless romantic fanfics are not the right place.

However there is also those who go full "he did nothing wrong" and this could stem from both options: people who are racist themselves, or people that has no idea of what it being a part of the Slave Trade really means. Given that History is so far back, is easy to "forget" or even imagine the living conditions back then. Of course, those who have grandparents or greatgrandparents that have experienced it in the flesh will not let it fly.

In the end of the day it all depends on whoever is reading. They can be affected by it, shocked, outraged or not... that's how Art works and none of us has the right moral compass to tell others if they should be ashamed or not.

We can tell them to knock it off or at least tag properly, but thats an entirely different can of worms 🤣

Hob Gadling’s Involvement in the Transatlantic Slave Trade between the 16th and 19th Century

The Fallacy of (clumsily written) Racial Reconciliation or: Is show/Hob really different from comics!Hob

I originally wrote this a while back as a reply to someone else’s post, but since we’ve been discussing “Men of Good Fortune” (comics) and “The Sound of Her Wings” (Netflix) in our community over the past weeks, I’ve expanded on a few points of my original thoughts.

This post discusses difficult topics, systemic racism, questions of social (in)justice and problematic angles in writing. If that’s not your thing, this is the exit sign…

A question that comes up quite frequently is the following:

Is show!Hob different from comics!Hob?

Hob’s conversation with Dream in 1789 (and not just 1789) in the show has been significantly altered (compared to the comics), and it makes it tempting to believe this somehow makes him different regarding the more problematic side of his character.

In the comics, we have a bit of dialogue in 1789 that shows how deeply involved in the slave trade Hob was: “I sort of started it,” said with a hint of, dare I say, pride? And then brushing off Dream’s concerns by saying, “It’s a living.” Twice.

(They changed this to, “It’s just how it’s done”, and a shrug in the show.)

And it’s true: If this had been integrated into the show, it would have painted him in an even worse light. However, I personally think it was the wrong move to leave it out (Ferdinand Kingsley carefully voiced something along those lines as well btw). Because now the show pushed Hob’s whole involvement in the slave trade much more into the direction of, “Oopsie.”

Can we truly take leaving out the above dialogue as a hint that Hob might be a better person in the show? I’d like to really reflect on that--leaving out those comments can’t make him a better person. Even if we change his arc slightly and he “wasn’t that involved.” You’re involved, or you aren’t. There is no, “I tried a bit of slave trading and decided it wasn’t for me.” One could even argue it makes the angle of the show more problematic because it makes the slave trade a “little blip” in his timeline. Things like that can’t be a blip. I personally think the writers made a mistake here, but that’s obviously just my opinion.

If there wasn’t enough space in the show to expand on it (which I get for a side character), I feel they should have left out the slavery arc completely instead of keeping, but then minimising it (that might sound contradictory, but it only does if you don’t look at it too closely). It already didn't sit right with me 30 years ago to use slavery as a side note for showing a white person’s character development without properly examining the damage caused, and it still doesn't sit right with me now. It makes the plight of PoC a plot vehicle to centre white people’s guilt, and I always thought that’s a blind spot only white people have (and I’m white myself, to get that out of the road straightaway).

I’m not saying it couldn’t or shouldn’t have been used narratively. Or that you can’t show remorse and atonement/redemption for the most heinous acts (that’s not the same as forgiveness—I’ll get to that). Or that characters who have committed said acts are irredeemable. But it would have needed to be fleshed out instead of making it a comment in passing. Many books and movies do exactly that. But the point is that it’s never been fleshed out.

“But they had to shorten and streamline it…”—just no. Because to me (and ofc people are free to disagree), that exactly proves the point—centring the white guy while sidelining the people who suffer. I am a bit doubtful we’ll get anything remotely appropriate in the show after what we’ve already seen. Only time will tell, so I’m withholding final judgment at this point. Fact is: It is uncomfortable to watch for people with any sensitivity on the matter.

And yet, there is a lot of focus on leaving out Hob voicing his regret in 1889, since that (again) “would have painted him in a better light.”

While simultaneously regularly failing to mention that he proudly proclaimed he “invented” the triangle trade. Can we really pick and choose his traits like that? Hob is a materialistic opportunist who also has some regrets. That doesn’t mean he can’t exist as a character, or that we’re not allowed to like him (morally grey characters are often the most compelling ones). We don’t need to sanitise him though, or try to erase his problematic traits from canon. The same goes for other characters (yes, I’m looking at you, Dream, and I’m sure we’ll get to that very soon—in fact, we’re possibly starting tomorrow 🫣). If we are talking about Hob’s remorse, we are probably mostly thinking about Sunday Mourning, so I need to bring in issue #73 at this point (this is your spoiler warning if you don’t want to read ahead).

The Fallacy of Racial Reconciliation

Very plainly:

A black woman is used as a vehicle to forgive Hob. And said black woman has been written by a white male author for that sole purpose without giving her anything else to do. I personally think NG got that wrong. It was clumsy and insensitive to POC, and I really hope they change this for the show. It’s a fact that he really wasn’t good with writing black female characters in the whole run—they all get fridged in one way or another, and he even admits it in the Sandman Companion. And then turns around and basically implies that it's all okay now because “nothing bad” happens to Gwen once Morpheus is dead. She is allowed to be a vehicle for the character development of a white guy though. It’s just really insensitive, and I sincerely hope they don't put it in the show this way. And I’m glad that we're seeing hints it might not happen--at least the casting in the show hints at it (from Lucienne, Death and Rose to very likely turning Carla into a white man—we already met Carl, and that’s who he is IMHO).

There is also the not so small fact that Hob is, even in his guilt and shame (shame is always about yourself, and that’s actually very in keeping with his character), not honest with Gwen. The thing about him basically inventing the triangle trade, which he so proudly proclaimed in 1789?

The English who were so good at it? The “Jack” Hawkins he talked about in 1789? That’s actually this dude:

And Hob funded him 200 years before 1789, and enabled Hawkins. Hob was involved in what became the transatlantic slave trade well before 1789–he already funded it when he had money in the 1500s.

He carried that mindset around with him for literal hundreds of years and saw nothing wrong with it until at least (! more about that in a sec) 1789. Dream had to rub his nose in it, otherwise it wouldn’t even have occurred to him (or did it, and he just chose to ignore it--see below).

Hob has been written as a stand-in for humanity, British Imperialism and England over the centuries—with all that entails.

So how honest is he with Gwen? And how long, even after 1789, was he still involved, even after abolition in England (Somerset vs. Stewart declared slavery unlawful in England in 1772, but that wasn't true for the rest of the British Empire. Buying and selling slaves was only made illegal in 1807, while owning slaves only became unlawful with the Abolition Act of 1833, and it took another year to buy out slave owners to actually make it happen)? Because there’s still this:

“It got worse when they did [outlaw the slave trade]. You only needed one voyage in three to make a profit. You could afford to dump your cargo if… you spotted a British Man o’ War.” How does he know? Why does he have these nightmares? We can take a guess…

That’s not someone who tried it for a couple of weeks and then thought, “Sorry, my bad.” That’s someone who has been opportunistically involved from the 1500s and potentially until after slavery was unlawful in England, which it already was when he talked to Dream in 1789. So does his feigned ignorance of, "It's a living/It's how it's done?" really hold? Especially if he potentially kept going, even after that convo with Dream? When I wrote "between the 16th and 19th Century" in the header, that's exactly what I meant...

Guilt and Shame

Yes, what we see above and in all the other panels is guilt and shame. And it reminded me of this:

And I’d encourage everyone to really listen to what Jasper has to say, and sit with the feelings it brings up. Because I can still remember watching this in the George Floyd aftermath for the first time, and how deeply uncomfortable it made me—because he’s right.

Black people/PoC do not need to forgive and absolve white people from their guilt. They can if they wish to, but that’s their choice, not ours. It’s not for white people to absolve other white people from their guilt around the oppression of PoC. And that’s why it could be argued it’s not for white people to write a black character to do that in their stead either (they can of course, but then they need to live with the fact that people will call them tone-deaf). It could also be argued it is something that cannot be forgiven retrospectively, and white people need to be okay with that. It can only be worked on in the present with a view to the future. And as Jasper also so rightly points out:

The guilt is not even helpful (at least Gwen has the right sentiment there, but it’s still falls incredibly flat over all), and shame only centres ourselves.

Forgiveness vs Redemption

Hob Gadling's regrets don't make everything he did forgivable. I think it actually does the story a disservice if that’s our main takeaway, because this is truly one of the bits of The Sandman that’s written in an extremely tone-deaf manner. NG isn’t the first author who did this, but we can take something good and helpful from this, and that’s engaging with these questions instead of brushing them under the carpet—because that’s what literary analysis is about.

It should be clear that I do see Hob Gadling as narratively important because I see him as a stand-in for humanity, and more specifically, English history. And there is really so much to learn from that.

Writers can get things narratively right but still be emotionally tone-deaf due to their own blind-spots. We don’t need to assume malice, but we also don’t need to leave it entirely unchallenged.

And because of that, we can certainly see Hob as someone who has to live with his conscience, and the consequences of his actions, for the rest of his life and struggles with that (as he should). And maybe we can see him as someone who is now, finally, trying to do the work. Because that is what atonement and redemption actually mean:

Taking action to rectify past wrongs. Actively working against the harm once caused, and preventing it from ever happening again. And I hope that’s what he does, and the signs are there (but there are also still signs that he values covering up his immortality higher than e.g. telling Gwen the truth. And we can find a million excuses for why that is, but ultimately, none of them truly matter).

However, it is not the same as forgiveness from the people we have wronged. Forgiveness is not a prerequisite to redemption, although it can be a part of it if the person who has been wronged chooses to extend it. But the people Hob wronged are dead, while their descendants still need to live with the pain people like Hob caused to this very day. So while I don’t see him as irredeemable, I don’t think he needs to, or even can, be forgiven—especially not by black people (unless they choose to. But it is also fine if they don’t, and again, we need to be okay with that). And we could say, “But Gwen chose to.” To that, I say:

I wonder what Gwen would have said if he had been truly honest with her (which he wasn’t, see below panels). That wouldn’t have been an embrace is my guess…

[ecstarry]

So now, Regulus Black oral fixation!

AISDJNAS YES YES YES, ONE THING ABOUT REG?? HE LOVES TO SUCK DICK!!!! FIRST OF ALL, GOOD MORNING <33 NOW, ALLOW ME TO CONTINUE

Here's my ask about James' oral fixation

He loves it SO MUCH he literally got rid of his gag reflex, that man goes DEEP.

Reg loves to make a fucking mess of it, making sure James' dick is COATED in spit and pre-cum with his hands before he goes in

HE LOVES GIVING JAMES A MORNING BJ!!! James always wakes up with a hard on SOOO HE'S CLEARLY READY. Maybe he's always hard because HE KNOWS Reg will treat him in the morning

His tongues does a fucking NUMBER on James' tip, he makes sure his tongue is flat and surrounding it.

REGULUS BLACK HAS THE CUNTIEST SEX LOOK IN THE WORLD. HIS EYES DO YOU KNOW THAT THING WHEN HE LOOKS UP AT JAMES.

HE LOVES TEASING AN ORAL!!!! He will get on his knees any chance he gets just to get James all excited, he looks up with those fuckey eyes at James and then JUST TIES HIS SHOES.

LONGER HAIR REG TIES HIS HAIR A CERTAIN WAY WHEN HE'S ABOUT TO GO DOWN AND THAT ALREADY MAKES JAMES ALL EXCITED

He loves to also have James on top, LOVES the weight of James' body over him when he's eating him.

also Reg is a PRINCESS OKAY?? NO MESSES LEFT BEHIND!!!! HE ALWAYS SALLOWS!!!!!

HE ALWAYS FINDS WAY TO LOOK UP TO JAMES TO GET HIM RILED UP BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT IT MAKES JAMES THINK ABOUT HOW HE WOULD LOOK DOWN ON HIS KNEES

He's tongue techinique is PERFECT!! he knows exactly how to move it once it's ALL IN!!!

BALLS ARE NEVER NEGLECTED!!! MY MAN ALWAYS HAS A HAND THERE!!

side note: BARTY GAVE HIM HIS FIRST BJ TO SHOW HIM HOW TO DO IT AND REG TOOK THAT ADVICE BUT HONESTLY MY MAN IS A NATURAL AT SUCKING DICK!!!

SO YEAH <33333

[ljblueteak]

Rowan Chase: Dies. Denies Chase closure and cuts him out of his will.

House: "Dies." Chase was able to tell House "thank you" in Post-Mortem and get a handshake. It's not closure-closure, but they didn't have unfinished business. Chase inherits House's job and office, complete with tennis ball.

[pr4yerp0sition]

People who complain about Ichigo not being a cool protag don't understand him. Loves his family, loves his friends, delinquent strawberry kid with a heart of gold, insane drip (have you seen his casual clothing) never truly had selfish intentions he just wanted to do good. Don't @ me with the cliche a good morality character is boring because did we not witness his self loathing? The fractions of who he is personified by his power?

[artemistorm]

💛💛💛💛

Sending you good vibes cause I'm having a rough day (and possibly a sprained finger) and don't want you having a bad day too 💛💛💛

-🦔

Well... my day is not starting off great either. I stayed up too late reading manga and now I have what might be the beginnings of a headache and I'm late to get up for school.

How did you injure your finger? I hope it doesn't hurt too badly. Sorry you're also having a bad day.

[osaemu]

choso choso choso

[sleep-nurse]

i'm back i feel like collapsing at this very moment

[skinzchoerim]

This might be a huge reach, but I find it curious that in nabi, the pronouns switch from she to you in the English lines:

She left the perfume from the moment // Can't take my eyes away // When I look into your eyes

The following Korean lyrics are:

It feels like I'm drunk, if only I could stop the world as it is, I wouldn't be afraid

It kind of makes me think that the she and you could be different people and it would indicate that one of the lovers cheated. Again, seeing as it references chrOme hearts in the first line, which is very up and down/hot and cold, it wouldn't surprise me if one of them had enough, maybe even used it to fuel jealousy in some twisted attempt to make their relationship stronger. It seems like the person singing is the one who cheated and he regrets it, because now he's forced to face change when he's being left alone.

Their discussion of No More Perfume on You in exchange member directed me to this line of thought, but other than that one verse, the song doesn't seem very regretful, more just longing and not wanting to let go, so it's more likely not the case.

[canichangemyblogname]

For allies and other genderqueer people...

If you're curious about someone's pronouns and are unsure of their gender, ask personally. If you want to know where someone's landed in a gender journey because where they are has changed from where you knew them- and they've largely yet to tell people- ask personally.

Don't corner someone. Don't confront someone. Just ask casually and privately if you feel you must. Please.

Because otherwise, you're making someone choose between the discomfort of being untrue to themselves or the discomfort of outing themselves in public where that might not be safe.

Don't, for example, ask a "hypothetical" someone in front of a large group- some of whom are complete strangers and some of whom are old friends this person has not seen in literally years- if pronouns have changed. Even if everyone at the table is queer. Don't ask someone this in the middle of a restaurant in ear-shot of other patrons and all the employees. Don't then proceed to yell across the table asking about this person's gender journey and if this person bought a binder and if this person binds, and where this person's transition might go from here. Even if you are genderqueer and at one time explored your gender expression in a similar way.

When this totally "hypothetical" person hedges around the questions with a shrug and an "I don't know," don't press this person. Drop it. Certainly, don't insist on using a different set of pronouns than the ones you were previously familiar with. "How about they/them? I'll use they/them." Because now this person has to choose between being misgendered or coming out in the middle of a fucking restaurant miles away from home and in front of strangers. And even if this person chooses to stay in the closet at that moment by asking you to use old pronouns, you have still made this person choose between being misgendered or coming out in public in front of literal strangers.

And also! Don't tell a totally "hypothetical" dude that he needs to discover the wonders of being involved with women romantically and sexually immediately after he tells you he's a dude and, yes, he likes guys. And don't insist that one day he'll have a sexuality crisis and realize he's "gay" because he probably, truly likes women. And when he corrects you and tells you, "If I'm a dude and I'm exclusively into chicks, that'd make me het," don't double down. Because that tells him that you essentially see him as "girl lite" or a different font of girl. You see him as a chick who's just so quirky that she uses he/him pronouns and goes by an edgy name as a "fuck you" to the patriarchal gender binary, but that's not who HE is.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[n4b3]

.

[a-commas-a-pause]

For me, learning about the less-famous symptoms/presentations of autism cleared a lot of things up regarding this kind of experience. Plus realising that I'm just Way more prone to anxiety than most people and it's likely a brain chemistry thing that I can't really do much about. And also realising that even though I did have one of the most idyllic childhoods it's possible to have, no one goes through life without incidentally accruing little micro-traumas here and there. Especially if you're neurodivergent. Some of my worst childhood memories ever are things like... being told off by a teacher I respected. And I'm incredibly privileged for that! So many people have much worse memories. Most of mine are honestly things that simply Are Going To Happen Sometimes, Sorry. And I had to learn to deal with e.g. being rejected by someone whose opinion I valued. That's a universal human experience! It's part of life! But also - the fact I still remember those experiences years later means that they affected me strongly and it's ok for me to take that seriously and treat myself gently with respect to those memories. I am a very ✨ sensitive ✨ person and that has its benefits (tends to go hand in hand with perceptiveness, for one thing. Also I'm like 90% sure that it's not just the negative emotions that I get at extra high volume but also at least some of the positive ones) but it also has its drawbacks and those drawbacks are real and legitimate.

It's also actually been really worth knowing/accepting that I'm (heavy quotation marks) "sensitive". Because it makes it a lot easier to avoid harmful knee-jerk reactions. I have a conscious policy of keeping my emotional responses to things (often disproportionate, and wildly illogical) as far away from my irl actions as possible because I know there's often no particular foundation to my anxiety. Like I get where the ''trust your gut'' people are coming from - often your subconscious is telling you something useful - but personally I'm a big proponent of "trust but verify" when it comes to gut feelings. And not jumping to conclusions. Rather than wasting energy fighting my own mind with guilt about how I "should be" more resilient, I accept that I'm gonna be feeling a lot of feelings and as much as I'm able I account for that. I used to get in horrible arguments with friends and family because me emotions were just So Loud but I felt like I had to muscle through and continue a conversation because otherwise I'd be weak. I'm getting a lot better about Not doing that these days, and from the outside it seems like I've become a more chill person, but I really haven't. I'm still as much of a wound ball of stress as ever. I'm just consciously choosing to direct it differently - and giving myself more and longer breaks than I was ever allowed to have, back when I was on a strict school schedule.

Anyway I definitely don't have all the answers (or really any answers that you've not already thought of, I suspect) but you're not alone in this, I promise. It happens to me too.

Sometimes I get sad and frustrated thinking about how I had a normal childhood with good parents and incredible privileges and accommodations, and I avoided almost all common adverse and traumatic events, and yet my entire life has felt in my body like I'm being chased through a torture labyrinth by a hateful God

Like okay when i was like 10 I got a regular stomach bug while I was spending the night at mamaw's house and I had a full-blown trauma response to it. I started having panic attacks so bad I thought I was going to die. I remembered every single detail of the night I got sick and developed weird superstitions about objects I'd interacted with. I never wore any of the clothes I had been wearing ever again, except my socks, which I didn't touch for like. 6 or 7 years.

This wasn't an isolated incident. I have searched my memories desperately for some kind of deeper trauma that underlies the state of mental health disaster I've constantly been in as far back as I can remember, and I've got nothing. I was just born too psychologically fragile to be alive.

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*