#can't remember if this has been done before sorry
Text
the girl next door 29
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.
This lewk but silverfox
You peel off the suit and wring it out. You leave it in the bathroom to dry, but more so you don't need to look at it. You've never been so humiliated in all your life.
Worse than your mother's bitter grumbles, or the way your grandmother used to nitpick at every part of you was that look in Steve's eyes. It was like nothing you've ever seen before. Not angry, not judging, but something mysterious that unsettled you.
Ugh. You sneer at the wall as you pull on the baggiest tee shirt you have. You hate yourself. No, you hate your body. No matter what you do, it's clumsy and somehow you get in the way of yourself.
You shimmy into a pair of pajama shorts and flop onto your bed. You could read but your head won't let you focus. Drawing isn't an option either, you're still shaking from the exposure.
Sleep. Well, that won't come. Every time you close your eyes, you just see Steve and the water, and your nakedness. You can't imagine what your mother would've said if she'd saw.
She hadn't, had she?
You roll over and hide your head under your arm. You just lay there, desperate to escape somehow. The hours wear on, the day shifting around your unmoving form, the stagnant house dampening your skin with sweat.
When you finally get the strength to flip onto your back, you realise you've been crying. You sniffle and mop your cheeks. You don't know why you're crying. Humiliation, sure, but don't be such a baby.
You sit up cradle your head until it's a little less fragile. You get to your feet and shuffle out to use the bathroom. You pointedly ignore the pink checkered fabric.
When you're done, you go to the kitchen. You look in the fridge. Not much there. You take out an old cup of pudding and fish out a spoon. You sit at the table and stir it but don't eat.
You remember when you were a kid, your grandma would give you tapioca. Your mother only ever got banana. You hate banana pudding. It tastes so artificial.
You're not a kid anymore. You're realising that now. It's time to be an adult. You don't have a place here anymore. Your mom has Steve and you have... nothing.
The front door whines on its ungreased hinges. You wince and look up, shove a spoonful into your mouth.
Steve appears. He has a tee on but still wears his swim shorts. You look at him dully and swallow, scooping up more of the pudding.
"You hungry? You could have come over for lunch."
You shrug and keep eating. Your stomach sickens at the overly sweet treat. You want to spit it out.
"You're still mad?" He asks.
You shrug again.
He sighs. He crosses the room and pulls out the chair across from you, "look, sweetie," he twines his fingers through each other as he rests his arms on the table, "I'm real sorry. I was trying to have some fun. I made a mistake. We all do, right?"
You stare at the table and nod.
"Right, so can we move past it? Forget it ever happened?"
"Forget?" You echo in a croak. "Erm."
"Wiped clean," he unweaves his fingers and makes a smooth motion over the table top. "How about it? Can you forgive me?"
You let the spoon go and slide the cup aside. You can't look up. It's more than the embarrassment of what happened. It's the constant shame that follows you around. You're just a hanger-on. He doesn't have to keep pretending because of your mom. She deserves to have a life after all the years she wasted on you. A life without you.
"I'm sorry. I'm... I'm going to find a job and I'll do my best and..." you ramble as you trace your fingers on the table and tilt your head back and forth, "and you won't have to worry about me."
"Sweetie?" He reaches over to still your hand, "what are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't be... I shouldn't be living with you. Or mom. You two... I'm in the way--"
"In the way? Sweetie," he squeezes your hand, "I promise you that's not true."
"It has to be."
"Why? Why does that have to be true?"
"Because no one wants me," you turn your face down but he won't let go of your hand so you can hide.
"I know that's not true," he insists.
"It is. You see it. My mom..." you shudder and hold back a sob, "hates me."
He's quiet. He clings to you even as you try to pull free. "I don't hate you."
"You barely know me."
"Sweetie, I know enough. Just enough to know you're a sweet girl. A good girl. All this time you've been taking care of your mom. Not anyone does that, you know? Most people would just leave her behind," he brings his other hand up to pet your knuckles, "and you're considerate and kind and gentle."
"Please," you wisp and tug on your hand again, "you don't have to--"
"I want you," he interjects as he tightens his grip, "sweetie, look at me."
Your eyes flick up, startled by his hold and his tone.
"You said no one wants you? I do. I shouldn't. I know it. I... I saw the way you take care of Holly, I saw how hard you try, I saw it all and I--"
He finally lets you go. You recoil, shocked. Your hand tingles and your heart races. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. You blink and lean back, making yourself as small as you can.
"I'm sorry," he drops his head into his hands, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm trying not to feel like this. I've been fighting myself but..." he looks up, fingers stretched up his cheeks as his eyes glimmer, "I... don't love your mom. I only married her so... so..." he closes his eyes and trembles, "I shouldn't say it." His lashes flick open and he sits up straight, "so I could take care of you. That's why. But I couldn't... be honest. Because I didn't want to scare you or lose you. Just having you close is enough so I lied." He sniffs and a tear rolls out, "worse, I couldn't even be honest with myself. Not until now. Until it's too late."
You gape at him. He just watches you. His expression is pained and sheepish.
"Please, sweetie, say something."
"You can't mean it," you breathe, "please take it back."
"I can't," he utters.
You sit in silence. You don't know what to say. You can't think. It's all too much. Why can't today just be over?
He inhales and lets it out as he fixes his posture. He gulps thickly and you look up. He stares at you. The same look as before. The one you don't understand.
"Sweetie," his voice is firmer and his tears are evaporated, "I have one question." You lower your brow, confused, "do you want your mom to be taken care of?"
"What?" You squeak.
"Your mom? You want her to be comfortable? Supported? Get the proper treatment?" He's staunch as he speaks, "you can't do it yourself. We both know you were struggling. Do you got the money for her next hospital stay? For the nurse?"
You whimper and shake your head, "what do you mean?"
"Sweetie, your mom needs me. You need me. Don't play dumb," he intones, "I will do anything. I will make sure mom is nice and cozy. She has her meds and everything she needs. There's only one thing I want in return." He clicks his tongue and inclines his head, "it's too bad it's the only thing you got."
You stare at him. Through him. The whole world narrows in on you as your chest caves in. You close your eyes, wishing against everything, that it can make him go away.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#drabble#series#au#silverfox au#the girl next door#mcu#marvel#avengers#captain america
222 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi hi hii sweetheart. Oh my lord. Your writing is literally so good, you honestly deserve the best, mind blowing, legs shaking, knees bucking, cant even talk orgasm. I'm so sorry. someone had to say ittttt. But I was wonderingggg😋 could you maybe do a drabble with reader and sevika are selling their house because maybe they have a little fucker on the way and they need more room, so they are goin through the house one last time and sevika starts js randomly naming out all her favorite times they have had sex in each place of the house...and she recalls like Hella details not even reader remembers. (Reader has pregnant mush-brain.) But could sevika be like..."wanna find a place we haven't fucked before..?" AND ITS LIKE THE HARDEST THING TO FIND BECAUSE THEY HAVE LITERALLY DONE IT EVERYDAY. But they end up finding a spot and sevika gives reader defo on the top 10 best sex they have had in that house. Could sevika maybe have a penis or even js her strap on in this...?:3 ANYWAY I WOULD LOVE THIS BUT IF YOU CANT DO IT ITS OKAY TOO!! I love you so so much your writings literally amazing!!!
this is so cute i love it!! (and thank u so much, i'm so glad u like my stuff eeek!!<3)
men and minors dni
you should probably be feeling a little more sentimental and sad about leaving behind the house you and sevika have been living in for seven years now.
these four walls have been your home through some of the best days of your life: meeting sevika, marrying sevika, realizing you're pregnant with sevika's baby-- it all happened here. you guys built your lives together here, and overtime, they became so intertwined and connected that you've become a 'we' rather than a 'me.'
but in all honesty-- you're thrilled to be leaving.
you hate this house. the floors are slanted, the roof is leaky, the windows aren't weatherproofed, so it's freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer. you haven't been able to take a bath in the tub for three years now because there's cracks in the caulk and any water above an inch deep starts to flood the bathroom. it's a shitty house, and you've been wanting to leave for years.
sevika's always been the one to convince. it's not that she loves your house, it's that she doesn't want to put the effort into finding a new one. but, upon the two of you finding out that your family will be growing in a few short months, sevika finally relented.
and now, just ten minutes down the street from this place, you've bought a beautiful family home, big enough for the two of you, your future baby, and whatever other family members (both human and animal) that might spawn in the future.
your inspector gave it an A+, the yard is spacious, the floors are level, there's not just one, but three bathtubs,-- and the one in the main en-suite is like a hot tub-- big enough for you and your wife to fit and lounge. you're so fucking excited to move in, that you're not even a little sad to leave behind the old space.
sevika's been eyeing you with worry all day as she lugs boxes and furniture to the moving van. she's waiting for your pregnancy hormones to hit you and for you to become a blubbering mess at the thought of leaving behind your place. you can't blame her, your pregnancy hormones can and have turned you into a puddle of tears over much less. just last night you cried for thirty minutes because one of the celery stalks in the bunch you'd bought was wilted, and all his celery friends were still green and healthy, going on living without him.
but, really, you're fine.
she's not buying it.
"sevika, for the last fucking time, i'm okay!" you groan. the house is mostly empty now, just a few boxes and some lamps left. sevika's taking a snack break, one of her arms wrapped around you as she looks at you with concern.
"i'm just saying babe, we can't come back after tonight, so if you need any, like, sentimental pictures, or a good cry--"
"oh my god!" you laugh, elbowing her. "sevika, i'm okay, really. i'm so fucking excited to go, i'm so excited for our future. i'll cherish the memories this place gave us forever, but i don't really care about the place itself." you shrug.
sevika studies you carefully, and then she pouts a bit. "it doesn't make you a little sad?" she asks. you raise your eyebrow, surprised to hear your usually-so-stoic wife is feeling ...sentimental?
"what makes me sad?"
"babe, this house is the first place we ever fucked in!" she whines. you burst into laughter. sevika points to the empty bedroom behind her. "you're not sad to leave that room behind? after all the times i fucked you into incoherence in there?" she asks, her eyes wide and sparkly like she's actually a little emotional. you can't stop laughing as you reach up to cup your wife's cheek.
"honey, you're gonna be fucking me into incoherence for the rest of our lives." you remind her. sevika smiles a bit at this.
"yeah, but... we had so many good times in this house." she sighs wistfully. you chuckle, pecking her cheek.
"we did. remember when you dented the drywall with the headboard?" you ask. sevika giggles a bit, her gaze snapping back down to yours, her hand reaching around your body to start gently stroking your ever-growing belly.
"'course i remember, i had to plaster it back up myself." she chuckles. "remember when we almost started a fire when we were getting kinky with the wax?" she asks. you blink up at her, drawing a blank and pouting.
"no." you whine. "tell me, it sounds hot." you demand. your pregnancy's been blessedly healthy, but the one symptom that's hit you hard is your baby-brain. sometimes, you're just total mush in the head. sevika's been patient and kind each time. right now, she just smiles salaciously at you and presses you against the counter.
"you don't remember?" she asks. "our second anniversary, we wanted to try wax play? you got the special lotion candles and everything, wore those pretty lacy panties i ruined last year on your birthday, and i let you tie my hands up." you smile, the memory slowly coming back to you, heat building between your legs as she speaks. "anyways... it was goin' real good until i kicked over an unattended candle." she whispers.
you break into laughter-- the memory suddenly flooding back to you. "shit, i miss that blanket." you snort, remembering the way the comforter seemingly spontaneously combusted.
"you were screaming as you tried to pat out the fire, and i was tied to the fucking bed that was goin' up in flames-- i thought i was gonna fuckin' die." sevika cackles.
you snort, and kiss her cheek. "i saved you, though." you brag. she laughs.
"yeah, you did."
"c'mon, tell me another." you demand.
sevika raises an eyebrow. "another what?"
"another sex memory." you say. sevika giggles. "they're all fresh and new to me, i like remembering how fun and hot we are."
"hmm..." sevika thinks, her eyes darting around the house. she snatches your wrist and drags you to the bathroom. "i'm still pretty convinced i got you knocked up in here six months ago."
"which time?" you ask. sevika smirks, kissing your cheek and pinching your ass.
"exactly." she teases. you snort. "no, but for real, there was this one time-- i'd just finished my workout and you'd had a big glass of 'shower wine'" sevika puts this in air-quotes, teasing the habit you indulge in each night, "and i fucked you against the sink so good that you had to get right back in the shower once i was done with you. fuck, i came my fucking brains out, honey, i couldn't speak for like ten minutes afterwards." your thighs clench a bit at the memory, your stomach bursting into butterflies at the way sevika's voice has gotten all heavy. her eyes are dark when she looks over at you. "and then, boom. two weeks later you're pregnant." she says, grinning.
you giggle. "you think that was the one, huh?" you ask. she nods.
"what's your theory?"
"i always thought it happened when you fucked me on the couch while we were watching that stupid cop-buddy movie." you say. sevika laughs.
"so you remember that-- a lazy, unromantic fuck after a long weekend of both of us lounging and not showering-- but you don't remember the good ones?" she asks. you just giggle and shrug again.
"they're all good ones with you, baby." you say. sevika's teasing look melts away, something needier taking it's place. you know what she's going to ask for, so you speak before she can. "you think there's a place in the house we haven't fucked?" you ask.
sevika blinks, considering it for a second. "i dunno."
"i wouldn't wanna leave the house with a room un-fucked in, sev, that would be a real shame."
"fuck, it really would, wouldn't it?" she asks. you snort and nod.
"so?" you ask. "you think we've checked all the boxes or can you think of a place we might need to--"
"the attic. you think you can crawl up there in your state?" she inturrupts you, rubbing your stomach as she eyes the little hatch in the ceiling of the hall. you burst into laughter.
"the attic!?"
"c'mon!" she laughs, jumping up and grabbing the string, pulling the stairs down. "you go first, i'll catch you if you fall. she says, steadying your hips as she walks you up the first few steep steps. you can't stop laughing as your wife basically herds you up into the attic.
you've never been up here, execpt for the few times you've had to put a pot down during a rain storm to stop the leaks from coming down into your home. it's dingy and dusty, and you can't even stand up straight-- you have to crawl to the end of the small storage space so sevika can fit up beside you.
she seems just as disgruntled with her choice as you are, but she's determined to make it work, quickly stripping herself of her shirt and laying it down behind you as a blanket. you giggle. "lay down." she requests, holding the back of your head as you lower yourself down so you don't bonk it on any beams or bars.
you can't see her like this. you're flat on your back, and your stomach is huge. you don't know what she's planning, so it's a shock when sevika starts tugging at your pants.
you burst into giggles, lifting your hips up to help her. "what's your plan here, babe?" you ask as she starts kissing your bare legs.
she hums against your thigh, considering your question. she trails a hand up your thigh, teasing your cunt with a feather-light touch, before lifting her mouth from your leg to speak.
"'m gonna get you knocked up again." she says.
you burst into laughter, and you can see sevika lift up from between your legs to admire your smile. you grin down at her, and widen your legs. "give it your best shot, baby." you choke out between laughs.
sevika, grins, and then ducks back down to disappear beneath your tummy and bury her face in your cunt.
fuck, you're horny. the baby's been giving you crazy hormones, and while sometimes that means you can cry at sad celery, other times it means you're so insanely horny you could cum from a strong breeze.
"oh, fuck, baby!" you cry as sevika buries her tongue inside of you. she hums, reaching up to start working her fingers in the mix.
"gonna cum already?" she grunts before ducking back down and sucking your clit. you smack your hand against the dusty floor beneath you-- too round to reach down and tug her hair like you want to.
"fuck, 'm gonna cum all over your fuckin' face, sev." you whine, your brain turning to mush as you get closer. she groans against you at your words, and you take it as a sign to just let your mouth run. "'y feel so fuckin' good, 'y fuck me so good, shit, sevika, sev!" you scream as you cum.
before you can even ride out the first wave of your high, sevika's jumping on top of you to mount you so quickly that her head smacks against one of the low hanging beams in front of you.
you gasp-- still cumming and horrified at the loud "SMACK!" that rings out as you watch your wife's head collide with the beam-- then you burst into pitying, whiny giggles as sevika curses.
"shit!" she groans, reaching up to hold her forehead. you reach up to cup her face, laughing and shivering and somehow still cumming.
"are you okay?" you giggle, pulling her down to kiss the bruise already forming on her forehead. she grunts.
"i'm fine."
"liar." you giggle. you tilt her head from side to side, giving her pupils a good look as a half-assed concussion exam. "poor baby. need me to take you to the urgent care? see if you got a concussion?"
"i'm fine. just need to put my dick in you." she grunts.
you laugh, but shut your legs before she can sink into you. she huffs and glares up at you, and you pinch her chin. "remind me to check you out for real once we're done, okay?" you ask. she nods. you glare at her, knowing she won't. "sevika, you're my brain until the baby comes, i don't care if you don't want me to remember, you really gotta remind me. if you have a concussion and die because i let you fuck me instead of taking you to the hospital-- how am i supposed to explain that to the baby?" you ask.
sevika groans. "okay! okay! i know! ''re you gonna lemme fuck you or what?" she asks.
you pucker your lips, and sevika's annoyance melts as she swoops down to kiss you. you hum happily and open your legs, smiling up at your wife. "okay." you agree. sevika grins, and then she sinks into you with one smooth thrust.
you both gasp, your open mouths just a breath apart from each other as sevika starts to work her hips against yours. "fuck." you whine. sevika smirks down at you.
"fuck." she agrees.
your thighs are shaking-- her cock fills you up perfectly, like she's made for you, made for stretching you just right. each of her thrusts is accompanied by a wet smack, and you bury your face against sevika's shoulder in embarrassment as the wet sounds grow louder. she chuckles.
"you've been fuckin' leaky since i knocked you up. your cunt's so fuckin' needy, isn't it? already put a baby in it and it's just droolin' for more." she grunts against your ear. you cum the second the words leave her mouth, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you shake apart. sevika grins down at you. "fuck, it's so fuckin' cute how easy you are when you're carryin' my kid. i just put it in babe, you're already cumming?" she teases again.
you bite her neck, relishing in the way her breath hitches as you try to collect yourself, then hiking your leg up over her hips and gripping her hair in your hands. "it's your fault." you whimper as you try to catch your breath. "you knocked me up 'n now i'm fuckin' stupid and horny and-- and you feel so good." you whine.
sevika shivers on top of you, and you tug her hair harder.
"'m yours, baby." you whimper. "all yours."
that's the final nail in the coffin-- sevika screams a "fuck!" as she cums at your words. you grin, clenching around her cock and giggling at the way her arms nearly give out beneath her. "you're an evil woman." she sighs appreciatively. "i love you so much."
you laugh, and sevika ducks down to kiss your exposed neck. "'m your evil woman." sevika's dick makes one more feeble twitch inside of you at your words, the reminder that you're hers. you giggle in delight at the feeling.
"damn right you are." she mumbles, grinning.
you sigh as the euphoria of your orgasms wears off and the hard floor beneath you starts to kick in. "you might need to carry me back down the attic steps."
sevika bursts into giggles. "you might need to take me to the hospital. i can't tell if i'm seeing stars because i just came so hard or if it's a concussion."
you groan, and sevika muffles her giggles against your neck.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello Anons!
"This" about Sam is his PUBLIC LIFE!
It's not his REAL PERSONAL LIFE!
How I know? Wasn't it clear how "this" was a setup? If Sam was in a real relationship with this woman, do you really think this would have been exposed like it was on Just Jared?
What I think? That was "a shot in the dark" attempt to generate content and improve Sam's numbers on socials. Let's face it, no one can stand "Nobleman, whiskey and MPC" anymore, except his "mommies". (And those inflatable animals... Oh my 🤦🏻♀️)
As I said before, for me, Sam created a character of himself... A Sam Heughan for his fans and general public.
This Sam is nothing more than that Sam from Waypoints who can't commit to a relationship. Isn't this exactly the message he gives us when he appears with an escort???
But I believe Sam when he says he's very protective of his personal life. Waypoints may have real-life elements, but it was written to show what he wants his fans to see and believe about his personal life. In one way or another we all do this on our Instagram accounts.
I really think Sam tries to protect the ones he loves, and I'm sorry for anyone who thinks otherwise, but Sam has never done that for any of those women he's seen with.
But he clearly does it for his family. And the curious thing (or not 😜)? He does this for Caitríona... If we think that most of the time Sam is the one who provides any silly content for this fandom to discuss/theorize. Meanwhile, Caitríona is somewhat spared. She only “comes back” because even she needs to show her face and give him a rest 😜😅
At this moment, no one remembers to discuss the e-mail about FMN Gin... What a fiasco to encourage people to look at social media, which contain minimal information, especially about projects (oops ... one project)... Posts from 2020. Even Caitríona's account is not attractive. 🤦🏻♀️
#sam heughan#caitriona balfe#sam and caitriona#outlander#outlander fandom#it's a shitshow#public life#fake life
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.
That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find.
It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her.
“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.
She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. Are you drunk?”
“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too.
“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”
I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”
“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”
“You weren’t.”
“I was the worst.”
“Not always.”
“...It's hard being on my own.”
“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”
I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.
“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”
“I dunno.”
“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”
That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”
“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”
“Maybe.”
“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”
“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.
“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully.
“No, like, that I heard you.”
“I think we’re supposed to be together.”
I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under.
“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
A sniffle, “No?”
“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”
She sobs gently.
“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”
My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.
In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.
Hey.
I type.
I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.
Beginning // Prev // Next
51 notes
·
View notes
Note
First of all, so so sorry your situation. Im in a similar one actually so I really hope you're okay. Even though it's not dire, mine isn't either, it's very draining and can be super overwhelming since you dont have the support of your parents to guide you.
People have already mentioned keeping documents in order. you mentioned commissions, time how long it takes you do to things and decided how you'd like to be paid based on the hour. Do Not undersell yourself.
If you're uncomfortable with people maybe seeing your real name/using real info for payments, there are companies that work as your registered agent (at least that's what it's called in the usa) that you can use the address of for a yearly fee
You can also look into passive income things with art like making stickers for redbubble and Ive heard about artists making stock images before but I don't know how that really work tbh ^^;
-
here's a good post on general adult knowledge
here's a post on things to know once your out
Always Pay Rent First. Normally there's always some sort of way to get food, losing your apartment makes it super hard to keep a job
-
As for staying sane, people really help. Not necessarily even talking a whole ton.
Going and sitting at a cafe or park. wandering around a mall.
It's why I adore anime cons. You can look up board game or crafting groups in your area. If you're lgbtqia you can look for nearby queer centers, they're really helpful for advice and resources.
Libraries are ridiculously useful. My nearby one hosts plenty of events and has a poster board for nearby event happening. You can just spend the afternoon there.
Journaling and deep breathing and calm music all really help me too.
Therapy has always been the most helpful but not everyone has access to that.
Also getting a good nights rest. So many of my problems have been helped a lot by getting better sleeping habits
-
As for where to move, think about things like climate, laws, how the people there act. My town is super queer friendly but two towns over they're very much not, so be careful. Normally a simple google search on the name of a town can tell you a lot about it.
When picking out apartments, things like if you have animals or a car are super important. I have a car so Im looking for somewhere that has dedicated parking cause I can't afford someone hitting it when it's parked on the side walk.
-
There are jobs that lead into other jobs. Knowing powered equipment, such as forklifts, can score you better paying jobs in the future.
If you're looking into something art wise, just focus on portfolio, no one cares if you went to college as long as you can do what they need.
There's also apps for things like setting up dog sitting. I've also heard of event staffing companies that'll give you jobs as they come, never done it though so look thoroughly into that.
you can look up the average rent/utilities and such of a town you want to live in to get an idea of what you'll be paying
-
Credit score is super important in the usa to renting, but I don't know if you have that or an equivalent. If there's is, there should be secured credit cards that help you start building credit if you have none.
-
Just remember that this won't last forever and you got this!! it's painful and scary but it's temporary.
Also remember that you still deserve better even though you're not being abused, it still hurts and that's vaild.
I dont know if any of this is helpful but I wish you the best and feel free to ask questions if you need anything :D
.
39 notes
·
View notes
Note
Everyone aka antis talk about not seeing jkk in public means they never met eachother at all for chapt2 which is laughable given how it was soo easy for them to actually make an appearance together yet they didn't, Especially jm.
See everytime jm joined jk's lives (as in the comment section) jk has always asked jm to come over, and idt they live too afar that they can't cause i know many members live nearby. They could have posted a boxing video together with their coach giggling n shit (oh how I'd do anything to see them actually be in competitive mode and do sparring or wtv as competition) cause they both do it at same centre, jk said he'd come with jm once his promotions are finished yet they never did when it was easy for them to do it.
They were together in NYC , could have easily done one live together, or jm could have joined jk's live to make an appearance together. But alas they didn't even tell anyone they met eachother in nyc cause that's them. I'm very sure had it been any other duo they would have done it but jikook are jikook.
Jk really said he was going to sleep when jm joined the live cause he was awake all night nd as he had work at 2 pm nd he was awake till 8Am when jm joined but man was like "do you want to come over? Or should i come to yours? Don't laugh tell me, I'll really go if you say yes" believe i have never seen him being this insistent over anything. I was like boyy you have work in afternoon so you're supposed to atleast take some sleep before that but jk said nahh I'm UP. Kind of reminded me of that time when he was like"I'm upset, in soo upset, in very upset" he only stopped after asking jm to say sorry to him lol. Jk definitely wouldn't have offered to go to jm's home even clean up there and do a live together at his or jm's home if they weren't in touch with eachother. If you're talking to eachother after some time u don't offer this. Cause things could have easily gone AWKWARD on that live if they did one spontaneously. U need to be in touch with ur frnd to get that fluency and comfort to try it.
So jm doens't even had to do anything he just had to type"yes come over" and boom we all would have gotten that jikook live but jimin said you ain't getting shit fellas.
Again they could have done a live wheb they went to japan, i mean i get that they were busy but being in japan also gives you sense of protection cause fans over there are very careful. So no one would have chased them (the way it kinda happens in other countries ).
That time when jm went to jk's b'day with hobi jm could have easily posted a pic of jikook or jihopekook but he didn't , he rather cropped the heck out of that picture.
My point is it was really easy for jikook to make a public appearances, if they wanted they could have easily done it. I'd say it was mostly jm. If it was about us they would have done it but it's upto them and they chose not to is what I'm saying.
Plus these are the ones that we know of I'm sure there's some of other times where they met too. Ppl always ignore the fact that jm told jk he'd meet him after the promotions and i bet he did. I know alot are hung on that "did you eat ramen by jk" to which jm said "No" which mind u he actually said it after coming back from US so jm was basically still busy with his work. I remember well how he told us that taeyang has been asking him to come to his house for that meal which they promised during vibe's making, it was jm who said he likes kimchi or stmg else to taeyang to which they made plan of jm going to his house yet jm kept it on hold even tho that man is someone jm has admired for yrs as an idol and he went taeynag's home later when he got a little time from his promotions. Point is if he can keep that dinner (or lunch) on hold at taeyang's home u can tell how busy he must have been. I mean he literally prepared 2 albums in all that time, jm is workaholic nd he's been preparing for albums since the time they were on ptd tour. He was Hardly not working. So if he asked jk that he'll meet him after promotions then you best believe he did.
Jk was ready to go to jm's home that day just for a live yet jm's stopped him saying we'll meet after your promotions end. His thoughts are always about well being first. It's easy for him to say yes yet he's very considerate. That's why jk says jm's charm is him being considerate and refers to kind acts as him copying jimin. Did the same when tae started the live during jk's live nd jm was like let him do it. He's different than others that's for sure. If two ppl are home buddies you best believe their meet up mostly would be at home.
Totally agree with you anon.
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! This is the same asker who requested for the Lion Narinder hurt/comfort. I hope you have been doing fine. So, do you take more than one request from the same person? I would like to do so, if you don't mind. My request, if you choose to take it:
Sheeps, were traditionally taught to sing since they were wee lambs, but ever since the Bishops started to hunt them down, the tradition of singing has been sparse, but in return, as defiance, the Sheeps instead start to sing their last song, a funeral requiem, as they go down swinging, refusing to be silenced without a fight. So the Lamb, survivor of the last pocket resistance, would hear their guardians voices for the last time too be singing as they fight a doomed fight against the Bishops's followers as they were escaping.
When they were resurrected as a Vessel for Death, they sing a lot during their crusades, especially when they're near death. Narinder is especially intrigued by the singing. One wouldn't expect such a foul-tongued, crass, angry Lamb to have such a sweet, mellifluous voice that carries so well as it rings in the air.
I hope this doesn't bother you. May your month be easygoing. Eat your vegetables and drink water regularly.
a/n: I do remember you! And this time you've touched on a headcannon I already had for lamb's funeral rites.
Song is The Parting Glass by Celtic Woman
Warning: Descriptions of death by poison (briefly but better safe than sorry)
Songs of a past life
The dreadful drag of their axe against the ground is a stark contrast to the soft melody that they sing.
Narinder observed all of his Little Lamb’s crusades, and they always sang. Narinder found it weird but also delightful; that they never flinched when killing, to the point of singing while doing it.
Their lyrics changed often, sometimes cheerful, sometimes pensive, always somewhat familiar to Narinder, but he never cared enough to find out.
Until the first battle with Amdusias.
It wasn’t their fault, really. Narinder at least wouldn’t really blame them, he was patient enough, and the Lamb had lenience to make some mistakes.
They were poisoned by one of the worms right before encountering Amdusias, but they hadn’t noticed it in time, not until their movements were already sluggish and their brain was starting to give out. They barely managed to flee, if only to not give Leshy the privilege of seeing them killed by his disciple.
The Lamb fell against the trunk of a tree, breathing heavily and clutching their fading heartbeat. And they sang.
“Of all the money that e'er I had I spent it in good company
and all the harm that e'er I did alas, it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit to memory now I can't recall
so fill to me the parting glass goodnight and joy be to you all”
This one Narinder remembered, painfully so. His vessel's voice carried the softness instilled upon them by a thousand lambs before them; a song to comfort the dying, soothe the mourning, rest the soul. A song that every lamb sang as they were brought to the blade, the only song he heard for a millennia as each of his protected ones met their fate.
“So fill to me the parting glass and gather as the evening falls
And gently rise and softly call goodnight and joy be to you all.
Of all the comrades that e'er I've had they're sorry for my going away
and all the sweethearts that e'er I had they'd wish me one more day to stay
but since it fell into my lot that I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call goodnight and joy be to you all”
Their voice was so sweet, nothing like the bitter ichor of their enemies, but alas, they weren't past the third verse when his body gave out, and they reached His realm. They sat upon the gateway, clearly still shaken for a good few moments.
“Fucking dammit!” They yell out as soon as they recover, Narinder chuckles, There you go, that’s the Lamb I know, he thinks. “Damn poison ruining my streak! I was so close!”
“Cease your anger, my vessel, death no longer means the end for you. Soon, you can be back twice as strong…” He says, voice rasping. “No need to sing funeral rites either, for you can simply rise again.”
The Lamb, in turn, takes in a big breath, and exhales loudly, though their face remains in a frown. “I quite like our-… the funeral songs.”
“Do you now?” Narinder bends down carefully, chains rattling loudly as he gets down to his vessel’s level. “Finish it, the one you were singing.”
They smile up at him and start from where they had left.
“So fill to me the parting glass and gather as the evening falls
And gently rise and softly call goodnight and joy be to you all
Ah
But since it fell into my lot that I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call good night and joy be to you all
Fill to me the parting glass and gather as the evening falls and gently rise and softly call goodnight and joy be to you all.
Fill to me the parting glass
And gather as the evening falls and gently rise and softly call goodnight and joy be to you all goodnight and joy be to you all.”
…
The Lamb turns in their bed and contemplates their lover; the evening sun entering through the windows casts shadows upon Narinder’s face, but he doesn’t seem bothered. His beauty is still godly, and their wounds still hurt.
They softly kiss his face, stand up from the bed, and leave his shelter.
But since it fell into my lot that I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call good night and joy be to you all
I loved making this, thank you for the ask! I hope you have a good day every day!
#cult of the lamb#cotl lamb#taking requests#cotl narinder#cotl lamb culture#midnight writes#cotl narilamb#narilamb
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
oh harry du bois, we're really in it now...
SORRY I FORGOT HIS BODY HAIR !!! JUST REMEMBERED !!!! an angel without wings...
#can't remember if this has been done before sorry#not my main so im not tagging everything#also just a silly doodle to make me feel better so#disco elysium#harry du bois
751 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria.
Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman
I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story.
For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically.
The History and Context of Hysteria
To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman).
This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions.
Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.
These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices.
Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society.
(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.)
Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape.
Jason Todd, The Hysteric
So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.
Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them.
Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate.
Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.
Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses.
Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was.
This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father.
Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting.
Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood.
Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.
Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)
Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.
Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it???
Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag.
Bruce Wayne, The Batman
Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility.
The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story.
“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman).
Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:
“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman).
I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.
Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:
After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.
This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.
Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.
Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma
Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.
Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria.
You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.
We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.
A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light.
Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters).
Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.
Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement
Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman.
References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.
Barstow, A. Witchcraze
Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review
Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria
Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper
Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery
Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.
Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score
Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education
#jason todd#bruce wayne#hysteria#dc#meta#clovis writes#listen I regularly have to write 20-30 page research papers on therapy theory and mental health#I'm so sorry this is so long but it is actually impossible to shorten it#one of my profs once said I write in a way that's academic but still readable and know the meaning of brevity#and I was like: sir I've never been accused of brevity before#this took 3 days to write and get my thoughts straight on it#remember: you asked for this lol#holy fuck the word count on this is nearly 5k I'm so sorry#I literally can't proof read this because my brain has shut off from reading this post#there's probably some stuff misspelled and also missing from this but I'm done with it lol
441 notes
·
View notes
Text
"But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
(Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)
#dragon age#dragon age fanart#dragon age inquisition#digital art#artwork#sorry if this has been done before#like the quote#i may be a bit fried atm#and i genuinely can't remember if someone already did this#my bad
13 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Set 4 of chapter 3, volume 4 of the Tokyo Babylon manga. 9th chapter overall.
Cleaning/typesetting done by me, official Dark Horse translation used.
Select/open the images to view in higher quality.
Previous, Next
#this has been in my drafts since november 2021 so i figured I would post it because I've already completed it so. yeah.#tokyo babylon#.....since i lost all my files i don't have my presets anymore.#now that i upload to tumblr it looks like i used the wrong font modifier. sorry for inconsistencies. i'll fix it next set#which might be the last one. because welp. you'll see in my end note maybe.#basically in photoshop the text looks thinner and matches the uploads but on tumblr it's way too thick. idk why it did that. i don't like it#also this is only 9 images because it's a good cut of point#and there are only 7 more pages anyway. i think#****#all the tags before this one save the nov 2021 one were written in november 2021. if you're curious how i was feeling#but yeah. want to post what is already done.#i saw someone else started doing new scans so i think my purpose here is kind of over#still love the manga. i still have it on the small shelf next to my computer to pick up and use again#but life has gone on and my free time is almost non-existent nowadays so if i ever do pick it back up. it will be a while from now#though when i saw the person who'd continued it was only until the end of the volume i think? i can't remember where i saw it#it's been months though. i wonder how far they got and if they're still going#i should look for it
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
s01e01 "Go For Broke" / s01e03 "The Ladder" / s01e10 "We Are Gone"
I keep thinking about the visuals of these three moments...
(screencaps from kissthemgoodbye)
[ID: 3 screenshots from AMC's The Terror. The first is from the end of episode 1 and shows an aerial shot of the two ships frozen in some distance apart. The second is from part-way through the third episode and shows two black ink dots that have been spilled on otherwise blank white paper. The ink spots are some distance apart. The third screenshot is from the end of the final episode, and shows an otherwise empty landscape of ice and sky with the silhouettes of Captain Crozier and a young boy who is sleeping against him. The two figures are touching. End ID]
#the terror amc#francis crozier#terror screencaps#sorry if this has been done before#i can't even remember if *i* made a post about it before? memory very bad#my stuff
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'd Fight The Devil
Pairing: Alastor x fem! reader
Background: reader is Lilith and Lucifers oldest, and resembles Lilith more. Lucifer has a hard time bonding with her because of this, and Alastor decides to step in.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"DAD'S COMING?!"
(Y/N) Morningstar, firstborn daughter of Lilith and Lucifer, was currently having a breakdown over the fact that her father was on his way to the hotel.
She'd have no issue leaving, of course, but Charlie tricked her dear old sister into staying by saying she needed help with the hotel. . .and told her their dad was coming when he was two minutes away.
It's not like she didn't miss him, but things became different once their mother disappeared. Lucifer threw himself into his ideas, and (Y/N) tried maintaining their relationship but he couldn't even stand the look of her.
"I'm sorry! But I thought maybe you guys could talk while he's here?" Charlie suggested with a gulp, twiddling her fingers.
"I'm done trying with dad. If he wants to talk, he can come to me," (Y/N) crossed her arms, firm on her stance.
"I never thought I'd meet someone with worse daddy issues, but here you are, cher," Alastor, with his famous grin, looked down at the Princess of Hell. She huffed, not in the mood for his side comments.
"Alastor, please-"
"He's here!"
"-please fucking hide me!" She ran behind him, despite the mass amount of blonde hair making it obvious.
He chuckled.
Honestly, since meeting the eldest Morningstar, Alastor deemed himself her Protector. Not that the girl wasn't capable or needed him persay, but he cared for her. Being on the aroace spectrum, he wasn't plagued by a selfish desire to fuck her, but it was a sweet concern that slowly turned into a need to be near her.
A need to make her his.
"Hopefully he doesn't-"
"Pumpkin?"
"Fuck," (Y/N) silently cursed under her breath before Alastor stepped aside.
"Hey dad," Lucifer felt a pang in his sinister heart at her tone. She sounded uncomfortable and wouldn't even look at him, but he also remembered that he couldn't look at her at times.
It reminded him of happier times.
Times he didn't want to be reminded of anymore.
"So how've you been? Heard you've got a fancy job now. Probably making loads of money, huh?" He chuckled nervously.
"Dad, it's my company. I made it."
And he couldn't even remember that she did that?
Any dad would remember that his child created her own business.
"Ouch."
"And it's got a fucking duck on the logo. God, dad," She rose her voice, "you can't even remember that?"
"I've been busy, pumpkin-"
"Too busy to call? Too busy to even fucking call?!"
Charlie flinched at the harshness in her voice. She's always been a firecracker but she's never seen her so angry.
"I'm not fighting with you, (Y/N)," Lucifer stepped towards her, "why do you insist on fighting? Especially when I'm here for Charlie."
"Oh, you're here for Charlie?" Her horns started to come up through her skin, rolling back like a rams.
Just like her mom.
"I'm not making this about me. I just wish you'd make the effort instead of it having to be me," She missed who he was.
And during this, Alastor could see the pain on her face. She was furious, and rightfully so.
But he let her fight her own battles.
"I'm sorry that I look like mom. Is that what you want me to say?!"
"Yes!"
He didn't mean it. Of fucking course he didn't mean it, but it slipped out.
"Dad! That's enough!" Charlie ran to her, seeing tears well up in her sisters eyes. "How could you say that?"
"Pumpkin, I-"
"Don't," She sniffled, holding Charlie close, "don't come near me."
But he didn't listen.
He hated being the fact that his little girl was crying because of him.
"I think you've come far enough," Alastor spoke, getting infront of Charlie and (Y/N). He is excellent at saving face, so his pure unadulterated rage was hidden beneath his smile.
She hiccuped behind him, sobbing into Charlie's shoulder.
"Don't make me move you," Lucifer glared.
"And don't make me fucking kill you for hurting what's mine."
His voice turned more static-like than before, his eyes a burning red and his horns outstretched. He was a fucking shield for his Princess, and not even the King of Hell could get through. Lucifer recognized this and humbly backed away, retreating with his tail between his legs.
_ _ ☆ _ _
(Y/N) spent the next hour crying in her room. Over the years, she had started to hate herself for looking like her mom, and Lucifers' confirmation only reaffirmed it.
"Need anything else?" Charlie asked her. Although her sister wasn't searching for redemption, she had her own personal room in the hotel.
"Can you get Alasto-?"
A knock sounded at the door.
"Was he there the whole time?" She sniffled, and a muffled "maybe" came through the door.
Her bed was surrounded by napkins that she quickly placed on her bedside as Charlie allowed Alastor inside.
Alone.
The two of them.
Might as well just throw them condoms and say get to it, is what (Y/N) was thinking. She's known about her crush on The Radio Demon for a few months now, having a fantasy dream here and there, but wasn't much of an active person herself.
"Thank you. I know he tried to fix it, but I couldn't stand to look at him," Her puffy eyes made Alastors eye twitch, still a small spout of anger for her father.
"Of course, my dear," He sat himself next to her on the bed.
"Because your father, although the King of Hell, is a fucking coward", is what he wanted to say but kept those words for himself.
"Did you mean it? That I'm yours?" She asked, her hand inching closer to his.
"I never say anything I don't mean, cher," He grabbed her hand, kissed it, and made the she-demon gasp.
"I thought you hated touch."
He chuckled, "Oh, I do, but not if it's you. Your skin is warm, and it brings me comfort. You bring me comfort."
"You'd have me, even if I want to be glued to your side? Even having petty fights with my dad?"
"Darling, I'd wear your skin if you asked."
"Oh, how romantic," She blushed before both his hands came up to her face, bringing her into a needy kiss. With her, he needed to feel her.
Someday, even all of her.
"And I'd eat demons with you," She whispered against his lips.
"Oh my heart may burst, my dear."
Taglist: @lorkai @droopingdatura @tr1coo @randomuser-89 @abbiedail @evelin1o1 @sseleniaa
6K notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay but shy/bunny reader being used to bestfriend!Rafe ditching her because he’s with some girl, she never points it out and somehow she always lets it go because she’s just a babyy and Rafe starts realising that they don’t hang out as much😭💖
it was hard seeing rafe go—always was, and always will be.
you tried to convince yourself you were used to it now, but the familiar ache in your chest when he'd say goodbye to you, topper, and kelce and walk away hand in hand with his flavor of the week was getting worse and worse.
before you'd realized you had feelings for rafe—beyond just the affection you gave to your close friends—you hadn't cared at all. you'd even encouraged it, same way you did with top and kelce, offering advice and recommending which flowers to bring, what places to bring them.
not that rafe ever really needed your help. it seems since the day he'd become your best friend, there was a line of girls hanging behind the two of you, seemingly waiting for their turn. at night, when it felt worse—and somehow it always did feel worse in your bed alone, wondering if rafe's was empty too and knowing that it wasn't—you tried to make yourself feel better.
you're still here, and they're not—that's how you tried. it worked for a little.
the newest girl had been around for a record three weeks, so even your usual bandaid for your shattered heart wasn't helping the wound heal.
so far, he'd skipped two meals, a day at the course, and half of a boat day to spend with her instead of you. you, kelce, and top that is. you'd hoped today was going to be different, walking back to top's jeep after lunch to head to the marina.
"you're not coming?" you call out to rafe, who was walking back in the direction of his own car. kelce and top are too far away to hear—getting into the front already. you were always stuck in the back, and you had never minded when rafe was there to keep you company.
rafe flicks his eyes over you, taking in the new dress you really shouldn't have bought just to see what kind of reaction you could get from him. your bag has your bikini in it and one of his button ups to cover you and he sees it poking out—white seersucker temporarily distracting him.
"rafe?"
"yeah. sorry, no. made plans with-"
"yeah, of course you did." you cut him off, and though even a few weeks ago you couldn't have imagined the vitriol in your voice, it comes out all too easy. "have fun."
you try to walk away but his footsteps follow—and damn his long legs, because he gets infront of you before you can escape.
"what, kid? you mad at me?"
you shouldn't say something. you shouldn't say anything.
"we're going to the boat. you said you were coming. i cut fruit for you."
"i-i'm sorry. top will eat it."
"it's not for him. that's not the point." the words teeter on the edge—wanting so badly to tell him that you miss him. that he never hangs out with you anymore, that he's choosing some girl over you and it stings worse than anything you've felt so far.
you're not sure when it started feeling so different—rafe's always done this. and standing two feet from the jeep, kelce sticking his head out the window to yell at you to get in, you realize you're going to reveal yourself if you don't shut up.
"have fun, rafe. sorry. bye."
you don't give him a chance to respond, but it doesn't take anything else for the gears to click. you're too quiet to ever admit it, too shy to say what you're really thinking, and rafe knows that—he's known it since he met you.
standing there, watching you drive away with kelce and top, he briefly wonders what the last time was he did something just with you. he can't even remember it. it all blurs together—late night runs for ice cream and breakfast while top and kelce were still passed out. the sweet way you smile at him and how your expression changes when he goes to the girl who's waiting for him. he gets in the car and can't decide which direction to turn—towards this girl or towards you.
on the boat, you kick up your feet and open your book, trying to drown out the chatter of kelce and top trying to get out of the marina and focus singularly on the romance in your hands rather than the one in your brain. you drown it out a little too much.
"that the one i got you?" rafe asks from somewhere next to you.
"god-" you exclaim, book slipping from your grip and thudding on the boat. "you scared me." catching your breath, you bend to pick up your book, but rafe beats you to it, picking it up and placing it on your lap.
"sorry."
"what happened to your plans?" rafe shrugs. you wish your heartbeat would slow down. you look down at your lap and rafe looks over you—exposed skin shiny with sunblock, a blue bikini he thinks he's never noticed before, matching nails that suit you.
"already had plans with you, remember?"
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#shy reader#AHHH So fun to write this!! blending aus together#<33 hope you like it angel
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Not Lower Than 9 | Aventurine (18+)
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Synopsis: Land lower than 9 and he fills you to the brim.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Tags: Aventurine, Breeding, Lots of CUM, Feral and Touch starved Aven, Biting, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it!!) No plot just pure smut.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Note: The game reader and Aven played is based off of Aven's Boss Battle <3
How long has it been since Aventurine and you started playing his little game? At first, It was innocent and a friendly bet. You didn't expect him to take it far and then burying himself inside you, letting your warm cunt wrap around him and filling you to the brim with his seed with every roll that you failed to reach due to your stupid luck. Putting him in an advantage from that alone.
Your hands held onto Aventurine's wrist for dear life, the pads of his fingers rubbing small circles around the bud of muscle in between the folds of your pussy. Your legs shook as he moved his hips up to you in a slow manner.
"Doll, We're still playing." He let out in a breathy tone against your ear, pausing as he kissed the side of your face before lightly biting on your ear. "Pick up the dice and roll…Remember our rule, No lower than 9."
Turning your head back to look at him, you saw how his eyes narrowed at you as you cried tears of extreme pleasure. Your legs continuing to shake as you moaned.
"Aven--- I can't…Need youuu.." You let out as I squirmed on Aventurine's lap, your hips unconciously circling against him and only making things worse as you let out an over stimulated babbles of cries.
"Yes you can, My pretty gem. You can do it, o be a good girl and play the game…" Aventurine let out in a growl as he snapped his hips up, you let out another cry as your eyes widened. Trembling hands slowly reaching for the two dice that was ironically ominous and placed on the table in front of you, grabbing it you shook the dice in between in your hands before tossing it down on the table. Revealing a five.
Your eyes widened as you eyed the number on the two dice, turning your head; you looked back at Aventurine. He only gave you a smirk.
"Would you look at that…" He let out before his hand pulled away from clit and wrapping it around your neck as his other held onto your hip, guiding you to stand up as he then bended you over against the table before fucking you senseless.
His hips never faltering as his hands gripping onto your throat with enough force to make you roll your eyes back.
fuck fuck fuck fuckkk! was all you could think about from all of this, this game has been going on for about an hour now, your pussy filled to the brim from all the loses you got from playing a silly dice game with Aventurine.
"C-can't…! 's too much!…" You let out, your hand reaching back to much Aventurine away but unfortunately all he did was hold onto your hand that tried to push him away and pinning it against your back.
"Don't lie, Doll…You can take it. Just one more and we're done, yeah?" He let out, kissing your shoulder as he continued to snap his hips and fucking his cock into you. The tip of his cock hitting the deepest parts of you, skin against skin resonating in the room along with the sound of Aventurine's cum seeping out of you with every thrust he made.
"Doing so good for me," He let out pausing as he let out a soft growl and bitting harshly on the skin of your shoulders earning a loud cry from you. "Sorry, My little gem…Just so hungry for you--Fuck, gonna cum."
Aventurine then lets go of you, briefly pulling out.
"N-No…!" You let out in between your babbles of cry as he turned you around to make you look at him, he chuckled.
"Don't worry, Doll. You'll get what you want." He assured you as he then easily lifted you up and placing you on top of the table, His hands guiding your legs; lifting it up and placing it against his chest before he used his free hand to line the head of his cock against your slit before pushing in with a snap of his hips.
"Fuck!!" You screamed. Leaving your mouth agape in an O, back arching as he bit on your ankle while snapping his hips against you. Your entire body shaking under him, his hands keeping your legs stable against his body so you wouldn't accidentally kick him.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
With one thrust, you lost it. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as you sprayed Aventurine, letting it out and squirting on him. Your body trembling as you continued to cry nonsense. Aventurine chuckled before kissing and rubbing onto your legs, his hips still not faltering.
Low growls escaping his mouth, arms wrapping around your legs. Your limp body growing tired as the only noise escaping your mouth was nothing but quiet and soft cries and whimpers.
"gonna cum…Gonna Cum--FUCK!" Aventurine growled before fully snapping his hips against you, coating your walls in white. Pulling out of you, Aventurine's gaze moved and stared at your oozing cunt.
His cum from earlier endeavor oozing and mixing with the recent one, dripping onto the floor with each breath you took. Aventurine smiled as he looked at your fucked out expression; Leaning down he placed a soft kiss on your stomach as he wrapped your legs around his waist.
He kept quiet as he just peppered your body with nothing but love and affection, a silent appreciation for how good you were to him.
"We should play this game often…" He let out in between soft kisses, you raised your head and glared at him, earning a chuckle from Aventurine.
#mao {navigation}#honkai star rail#hsr smut#honkai star rail smut#hsr#aventurine smut#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Like a Virgin
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.
warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)
a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol
Now this wasn't like him.
He hadn't done this in a long time.
The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.
But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-
And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?
Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.
You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.
He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.
God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.
And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.
"Joel please"
Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.
Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.
"need something?"
He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.
"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"
fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.
He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:
"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.
"want me to stop?"
For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips
"Definitely not"
You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze
He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.
"Good christ"
that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.
"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.
"Joel please-"
"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.
He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.
The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.
"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this
"god you're so deep"
Yeah, you definitely knew
"and so big-" you cried
He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.
"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.
"just like that Joel- oh-"
And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.
"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.
And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore
"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.
"why?"
"nothing it's just-"
And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.
Goddamnit.
"you just feel too good Joel"
"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"
"what is it?"
"Jesus Christ I-"
"is there something wrong?"
"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"
And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.
"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.
"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together
"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.
"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"
You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.
"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"
You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.
"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"
"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head
"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"
He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs
"that I can do"
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
6K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
