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dxmedstudent · 2 days ago

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Fundamentally, everyone deserves have control over their body. I don't want a single person to be forced to carry to term just so somebody like me can take their child - that isn't fair to the child, nor to me, but most of all it's not fair to the person whose bodily autonomy has been stripped away.

I think you're absolutely right that much of what hits hard about infertility is that it strips your control away. You spend years taking contraception and planning if - or hopefully, when - you will have a child. And then...crickets. It doesn't happen - because something has gone wrong, either with your body or your partner's body (or both!) and it is just very unlikely to happen. How do you plan your life around that? What do you tell people around you? What avenue do you choose to try to deal with it? Only to find that there are a TON of people around you who are both extremely uninformed and very keen to make a lot of negative judgements or talk about how all your rights should be taken away because they feel *uncomfy* about your life experiences - which they've put no effort into understanding.

I think people need to be very wary of what we are being told - about abortion, about adoption and fostering, about IVF or surrogacy or other things, and whether we're being fed narratives with a hidden agenda that is anti-women and anti-choice.

But also, people campaigning against IVF are campaigning against medical treatment and accommodations for disability. IVF isn't a dark mystical process, it's a medical treatment whereby a person takes medications to encourage their body to do something it struggles to do, and then specialists help improve the outcome. It's intertwined with abortion access, antenatal care and sexual healthcare as a hole. Because they think that they should get to decide who has kids, and who doesn't. Because they think they are more deserving. People with reproductive issues still need abortion access. We still have miscarriages. We still need rights over our own bodily autonomy to ensure that if something does go wrong during a pregnancy, that our needs as living human beings are put above the needs of the bag of cells we've been gestating for a couple of weeks. The process of conception is inherently risky, and inherently prone to things going wrong. There's no way to Save All Embryos. If you think people shouldn't have access to IVF or other reproductive technologies, you're not really pro choice.

Going back to adoption - we shouldn't want people adopting kids if they aren't ready for the complexities of raising a child outside of their community and if they don't have the right support in place. Because those children may have trauma resulting from the circumstances of their birth, their being surrendered, their time in the foster care system, or from any of the other things that have happened to them in their lives. They need caregivers who are equipped to handle that - and not every infertile couple is. In fact, a lot of adoptive parents only feel ready to go that route once they are experienced parents. The needs of the children have to come first in these scenarios - adopted kids aren't a reward to be given away. They also don't fix the grief of your life turning out differently than expected. We need to do more to help potential parents who are considering giving their kids up for adoption. Most people who carry a pregnancy to term do so because they want their children, and want to play a part in raising them, and many families and communities also want to help - it makes far more sense to support these people and these communities so that they can raise their children, rather than to rush to place those children elsewhere. Foster care can be great - I know people who foster, but the aim of that process is almost always to reunify children with their family once they have been adequately supported.

We also need to listen to adoptees themselves. I feel like a lot of people who see adoption as the quick fix for everything... haven't really learned anything about adoption, they just want to shut down conversations about bodily autonomy by saying "adopt don't shop". But it's not that simple - many adoptees have very complex feelings about being taken away from their communities and birth parents, and they aren't a monolith in terms of their experiences. And that's putting aside the fact that there have been times throughout history when adoption agencies and even governments essentially used adoption as a way to avoid socially supporting poor folks by trafficking their children (often explicitly without consent) into the arms of rich couples that could pay. Many people have significant ethical concerns about the industry and around what they can do to make sure their experience is ethical - if that is possible.

There will be times when adoption is the best choice for everyone or may be the only safe option for the children - and in those cases it's important to have adoptive parents who are equipped to handle the needs of these children. But adoption will (and should!) be rare. Nobody should be forced to carry to term or to give up their baby.

Because people should have easy access to contraception and the knowledge to use it. To abortion. To help within their community so that they can raise their own children when they are struggling. If anyone wants to complete their pregnancy and then give a child up for adoption, they should be supported to play a role in their child's life (providing they feel that they can and want to), as long as it's safe for the child. Sadly, birth parents who want open adoptions are often vulnerable to being pushed out of their child's life.

There are no easy choices so people need to stop pretending there's an easy choice, and stop pretending that removing people's rights to bodily autonomy are going to make things easier or fairer.

As someone who struggles with infertility, I *constantly* hear the defense from anti-choicers that I should be upset with abortion because I want a baby.

Let me say this loud and clear- going through infertility, IVF, and a miscarriage has only further strengthened my support of abortion rights.

Why?

Because I know how it feels not to have the right to choose.

Sure, it’s different in that I want a baby and some don’t. But I know the feeling of not being in control of your body. The fear of what the future looks like and how all of your goals and dreams are now murky and uncertain. The horrible depression and anxiety that comes with knowing no matter how hard you try or what you do, you don’t have control of your reproductive system.

Nobody deserves that.

“But, you could have had those babies for adoption!!”

No. Absolutely not. Adoption has never, could never, will never heal infertility. Whatever your opinions on adoption are, adopting a child doesn’t suddenly fix that trauma, and expecting that of them is downright cruel and abusive.

My infertility does not warrant a person to have to endure a pregnancy they don’t want. My infertility does not make their trauma “worth it.” My infertility absolutely doesn’t mean a child should go through adoption trauma all because I want a baby, and someone else doesn’t.

Stop using infertility to defend your bigotry.

#dx does IVF #infertility #ivf #ivf treatment #reproductive choice #reproductive health #reproductive freedom #reproductive justice #reproductive rights #adoption #fostering

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brittle-doughie · 2 days ago

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First Meeting with House Tourmaline (Crème Republic)

Official Concept: Sovereign Y/N Cookie arrives at the Crème Republic for a visit while House Tourmaline, a family of Siren Cookies in their Cookie Forms are interested in them and meets them in person and noticed that they were different from all Land Cookies on Earthbread.

[The Siren Plot]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

@lexi-the-demon-69 for their characters, the Tourmaline family, as well as the art and sprites featured in the post!

After reading up on the Tourmalines, I can see why they were chosen to be featured. Alright, Azul, you win this one. I had too many ideas for this lol. Consider this a non-canon route of Odyssey.

When Sirens, aquatic beings who feed off the love and affection of land Cookies, are faced against the Reader, who I’ve described as having a bright and warm soul without a doubt harboring much love, love is sacrifice…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

△ You see the Republic port coming into view as you prepare to disembark. You had been sent ahead of Gingerbrave and the others to scope out the Republic, making sure it was as safe as it sounded before the others arrived with the Soul Jams for the tests.

△ You would not be alone when you stepped onto the dock. There had been plenty of rumors of you whispered amongst the Republic residents, which of course lead to the (nonexistent) ears of a particular group of Cookies.

△ House Tourmaline have heard about a Cookie that was expected to arrive to the Republic regarding Soul Jam matters and were curious to see if you were how the rumors tell of you.

△ Right off the bat, they sense something different about this Cookie. The potential Love Aura that radiates off of you was…the sweetest they’ve tasted. Now just what did they have to do to get it…?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When Purple Tourmaline Cookie goes to greet you and you reciprocate appropriately, she takes note of a lack of change in your behavior. She’s had land Cookies not immediately fall for her Siren charm before, so she thinks nothing of it, but still felt challenged. She gave a subtle look to her husband, Black Tourmaline, who did the same. This land Cookie didn’t sound like they were going to be easy to crack unlike the others…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Blue Tourmaline Cookie would be up next. Dubbed the most beloved out of the whole family, he expects you to fall under his fold like many before you. He was in for a surprise when he sees that his charming demeanor and even bits of singing don’t seem to work, your attitude was the same as it always was. Deep down, it bugged him, but he kept up the friendly face.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pink Tourmaline Cookie was the most excited to meet you, you had just arrived yet you felt like you were already how the rumors tell of you. She asks if you’ve heard of her, she’s quite the fashion model with a large following around here. Cue her shock when you awkwardly say that you haven’t, but she’s not deterred! You’ll know more about her soon enough.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

And then the co-head of House Tourmaline, Black Tourmaline Cookie, steps up to introduce himself. He welcomed you to the Republic with a handshake, the gesture serving as his own way of testing your resilience. His eyes ever so slightly narrow when you shook his hand and tried to pull away, leading to the awkward moment of Black Tourmaline holding on for just a second longer before he lets go. His wife’s intuition was right as he gave her a brief look, this land Cookie really was…different.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

However, Green Tourmaline Cookie would break the awkward moment by showing off one of his little experiments before you, much to the embarrassment of his older twin siblings, who didn’t want you to be out off by their younger brother’s shenanigans! You were supportive of what he was doing, asking him to show you what he’s got going on, referring to him as “little buddy”! This had motivated Green Tourmaline to make sure this sea water experiment worked, it was always a joy to see Cookies interested in his projects!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

△ It was in that moment of support for Green Tourmaline that the other Tourmalines could feel it, that pint of warmth that you’ve displayed, it was…sweet. Like, possibly the sweetest they’ve tasted. Black Tourmaline looked to his wife with a brief moment of surprise, as did Purple Tourmaline with him.

△ Just what was going on with this land Cookie? This couldn’t be just any regular Cookie, there had to be more to you and that love that they want to have a closer look at.

△ Blue and Pink Tourmaline already seemed to have that idea as Blue Tourmaline approached you when you were done observing Green Tourmaline’s experiment, his air of charm and confidence radiating off of him.

△ He asks if there was any chance you were free this evening? He’d like to treat the Sovereign of the Cookie Kingdom to a wonderful meal as a sign of good will from the Tourmaline family.

△ No, no! Pink Tourmaline is asking if you’d like to come to her next shoot later! She promises that she can get you in before the rest of her cult following, she can show off her best side all for you.

△ You politely declined!

△ This floors the two Tourmalines on the inside, but you reiterated that you were just pretty busy today!

△ Purple Tourmaline apologized for their behavior, believing that Pink and Blue were coming on too strong, scaring you away from their offers! Black Tourmaline asks how long you’d be staying in the Republic, trying to find another angle.

△ You state that it was a week, but you’d only be alone for three days, this detail now etched into the Tourmalines. Black Tourmaline, like his wife, apologized for this sudden meeting and offered their House as a place to stay.

△ Cue the expected answer that your accommodations were already in order, curtosey of Clotted Cream Cookie. Flashes of shock, irritation, rage in their eyes when you brought up the consul. You really had to get going though!

△ Blue Tourmaline inhaled sharply to keep his cool and requested at least a farewell handshake. Pink Tourmaline thought that was too small a gesture, you should get a farewell hug instead which Blue thought that was too big a gesture! Was she trying to compromise them? This was getting quite awkward for you!

△ Black Tourmaline stops his children, simply wishing you well on your stay here. You thanked him and finally went about your way. Purple Tourmaline was confused along with the others, what was he doing?

△ They had three days. This was only the starting one. They had plenty of time to observe and learn more about this land Cookie.

△ It’s been a while since one had interested him this much…

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

#cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #purple tourmaline cookie #blue tourmaline cookie #green tourmaline cookie #pink tourmaline cookie #black tourmaline cookie

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cloverstellar · 2 days ago

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I think something a lot of the general audience for stranger things is forgetting to consider is WHY Will is so interwoven into Vecna’s plan in season five, and how him dying doesn’t make sense.

Will has now been essentially confirmed as a lead if not the new total main character of stranger things in the date announcement trailer. Why? If he was just a target for Vecna’s possession, wouldn’t the season be marketing him more like it did with Max in season four? While Max had a pivotal role in being possessed by Vecna, she wasn’t THE main character for four, and Vecna clearly needed her dead (and had no qualms about killing El at the end too).

Vecna DOESN’T want Will dead.

Will, while under the influence of the mind flayer in season two, said (in a gross summarization) “the mind flayer wants to kill everyone BUT me.” and now it’s been confirmed by Will at the end of season four in his talk with Mike that it was ALWAYS vecna targeting him, even from the beginning. that means vecna doesn’t want Will dead, and needs him alive. He needs Will for something beyond just being a spy, because a spy is useless once everyone is dead. Why keep Will alive after killing everyone else in season 2?

(putting everything else under a cut bc I ramble)

something about Will is incredibly important to the new seasons plot outside of just a potential possession. If Vecna wanted to possess him for spy purposes or for another gate death, why Will? It doesn’t make much sense outside of that lingering connection to him, because all the characters now know that Will could at any point be walking eyes for Henry, which renders being a spy useless. so why is Will so important to Vecna? It was confirmed by the duffers that we’ll finally see why Will was taken, confirming that it wasn’t just a simple accident like it was portrayed as in season one. And here’s the one reason I can think of:

Will has powers, and Vecna needs them. Maybe not powers in the traditional stranger things hand-raised-bloody-nosed sense, but maybe in a way that’s a bit more like Kali? Something creative. Most powered individuals in stranger things usually make things levitate and mess with objects/minds and can enter the void, but I think Will’s has something to do with his position in the party. Something more abstract, which we know is possible since Kali has powers totally different from El’s. His powers may even play into him being an artist.

We have already seen him using true sight, though I’d argue that it’s actually shadow walking or shadow step, an ability used by clerics in DnD to teleport in shadows (the upside down in this scenario). If he was just seeing flashes of the upside down, the mind flayer wouldn’t have been able to reach him. His soul was genuinely partly in the upside down. (It’s also why he was able to hide so well while down there- and why Jonathan said Will could hide anywhere to hopper in season one- clerics can naturally conceal themselves in shadows, so he could camouflage himself to the upside down better than most).

Will is, throughout the show, consistently being compared to his DnD classes (be that cleric or wizard depending on the characters POV or timeframe). I’d argue he’s paralleled to and called his DnD character more so than any other character, both in merch and onscreen. that’s important because his DnD character HAS POWERS (magic class user), and the duffers been spending all this time building up to the reveal of it in season five. you could say that’s purely coincidental, but if we call back to season two, Mike tells Max that Dustin is the bard, wills the cleric, lucas is the ranger, he’s the paladin, and that el is their MAGE.

mages are wizards. Wizards in DnD gain their powers through intense study and training (El spent her life in the lab dedicated to honing her powers with Papa) and clerics (Will) get their powers from a connection to some divine entity or dimension/creature (Aka the upside down) and whatever new powers Will gained he got from his overexposure to both the upside down and the mind flayer.

what’s interesting though is that even though Will is a cleric, Will calls HIMSELF a wizard, aka “Will the Wise” multiple times both in the show and in comics, and Mike is the one who’s still calling him the cleric.

This could mean that Will’s supernatural plot for season five COULD play into him being a multiclass, and having elements from both his cleric role with Mike and his own self-identifying role as a wizard play into his powers and association to Vecna.

Regardless, Will’s character (be it cleric or wizard) is associated with the light class. It’s why he can use fireballs and cast light spells (use the lights in the upside down). You know what Vecna is called in season four?

a dark wizard. Vecna is the character foil to Will’s (and El’s) light wizard. You know what wills character can cast? Fireballs! What hurts the upside down? Fire. Alongside that, Will clearly has a connection to the gates as well (hence interdimensional cleric powers), and I think it’ll have something to do with Vecna’s leaked line of Will being a builder with him. “We are going to do such beautiful things together, Will, such beautiful things…”

Vecna could need Will’s potential ability to bring the upside down fully into Hawkins, especially since he’s weakened. As we’ve seen in BTS photos, Hawkins hasn’t fully merged into the upside down yet. If the infection of Hawkins slowed to a near stop, Vecna will need Will’s ability to bleed the two worlds together (seen in season one when he nearly opened a gate in the wall of his home), and he’ll do that by trying to appeal himself to their shared experiences over being different, another nod to them being character foils.

(physical evidence of them being FOILs >> their identical drawings)

if henry’s appeal to their similarities doesn’t work, then that might be how a possession could come into play, and Vecna will try to turn Will into a puppet again if he refuses to become his secondhand.

And that’s what’s going to make Vecna fail. He’s going to underestimate Will’s support system. While they’re clearly two sides of the same coin and henry knows that, Will has love and support and family, whereas henry distanced himself from and killed everyone while under the influence of the flayers particles in his system.

That’s a big recurring theme in stranger things; that love conquers all. (Which could be how Will unlocks his powers in season five but that’s another story)

It’s how Max narrowly evaded her death time and time again- she both imagined her happiest moments with lucas and El and latched onto it. Will HAS that in Joyce, in Jonathan, in Dustin, in Lucas, in El, in Hopper, in Mike, but Vecna thinks he doesn’t, because WILL doesn’t think so either. At least not yet.

it’s glaringly obvious that despite being surrounded by people in seasons 2 and onward, Will feels terrifyingly alone. Nobody else has gone through what he has. He feels like he has no one in his corner, especially in season four when Mike pulled away. But part of his “coming of age” as the duffers called it for season five will most likely be his realization that he isn’t alone, that there’s people who unconditionally love and support him through it all, and I think that’ll tie into byler’s relationship blossoming too.

on a more legitimate analysis note, I’ve seen a lot of people comparing Will’s scream of “RUN!!!” to his scream of pain while possessed as the upside down was torched. But to me, I think it was more of a direct callback to when the mind flayer showed up and he yelled “GO AWAY!” Over and over before the possession took place.

But what’s new is the anger in Will’s scream. He could be getting possessed and telling his friends to save themselves, OR he’s fighting back against something while telling his friends to RUN. That’s will, retaliating against whatever he’s looking at above him. Fully surrendering himself to the danger rather than trying to make it disappear. He’s terrified, but also determined and so incredibly angry. (and his eyes are green, not brown like when he’s possessed) He’s not screaming for the monster to leave out of pure terror like his possession in season two, but actively fighting and intentionally putting himself in harms way.

It’s both a significant showing of his character growth and in my opinion a hint that he’s not being unwillingly possessed, but rather giving himself up as a target while someone escapes. A sacrifice. But logically, that only works if he’s important enough to be worthy of that much attention to Vecna. he has something valuable, or is at least significant enough of a threat to warrant that much distraction to save everyone else (him having powers). Honestly, I’m hoping his abilities tie into the creation of the upside down. It’s clear now that there’s a border on the edge of the pocket dimension, like a literal snapshot of Hawkins, and I think it’d be cool to tie in his position as an artist and cleric/wizard into the creation of the upside down alongside El and Henry’s contributions. Among other things, electrical/light centered powers and interdimensional travel powers seem more likely to happen but I think it would be dope to see how that plays out.

ANYWAYS I have more to say but I’m tired maybe I’ll post more later

#rose talks #will byers #stranger things theory #will byers has powers #will byers analysis #byler #stranger things 5 #stranger things analysis #vecna stranger things #henry creel #el hopper #stranger things

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sneakyxthexclown · 1 day ago

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How Blitz Saved Stolas in Mastermind

Something I've been wanting to do for a WHILE is talk about a very, very specific scene in Mastermind. Seriously, it's, like, two sentences long, but it really stuck out to me, and I've been thinking about it since November. (Apologies if other people have talked about this before!)

Let me preface by saying, I LOVE English and writing. I minored in English with a writing concentration in undergrad, and I used to work in my college's writing center. When I didn't have appointments, I would study grammar rules and shit like that. While English is, in fact, a very stupid language, it is still quite fascinating.

The thing that really stuck out to me in Mastermind is Blitz's use of something called "passive voice" during the trial.

For those who may not know, passive voice is a way of constructing your sentences. It makes it so that the object of the sentence comes before the verb, and, in a sense, it can "hide" the subject. This is different from active voice, where the subject clearly does the verb to the object. For example:

Active voice: I (subject) kicked (verb) the ball (object).

Passive voice: The ball (object) was kicked (verb) by me (subject).

I've had MANY teachers tell me that using passive voice at all is a big no-no, and that's due to a couple of reasons. First, passive voice tends to create a more complex sentence, which can be harder for readers to interpret. And second, some people consider it too informal or "not proper" for writing because it's not as clear or concise as active voice.

HOWEVER

Passive voice is often still accepted when a person wants to remove blame or hide responsibility. For example:

The lamp was broken. The car was wrecked. The bank was robbed.

See how you still know what happened in all of those instances, but you don't know who did it?

That is exactly what Blitz does during the Mastermind trial.

After he admits to stealing the book (or "attempting" to steal the book as he says), he then states,

"Point is! It was given to me, okay? I was allowed to use it."

Instead of:

"Point is! Stolas gave it to me, okay? Stolas allowed me to use it."

Passive voice. Why?

To keep Stolas out of it. To protect him.

I believe that if Blitz had mentioned Stolas's name earlier, it would've been a surefire way to not only save Millie, Moxxie, and Loona but also his own life. I mean, look at how fast Satan was willing to change his tune once Stolas "confessed." Couldn't Blitz have just said, "hey, dude. Uh, actually, the royal who owns this book let me do all this, soooo, isn't he the one who should be in trouble here?" (Now, maybe Satan wouldn't have bought this since he wasn't willing to listen to most of what Blitz was trying to say that day, but that is an entirely different conversation.) He could've done that by using active voice.

But he didn't. He intentionally kept Stolas out of that entire conversation. In fact, Blitz never even mentions Stolas's name until Andrealphus already brought him up, until Blitz admits that he could've killed Stolas himself. But that still doesn't put any blame on Stolas. If anything, it just makes Blitz look more guilty.

I think we can all agree that Blitz isn't the type to throw his friends under the bus. Obviously, if Blitz and Stolas were on good terms, he would do anything to protect him. But they weren't on good terms.

This all takes place after the Full Moon, after Apology Tour, after all the screaming and the raging and the storming off in tears. Prior to the trial, the last time Blitz and Stolas saw each other, Blitz left still under the impression that Stolas was mad at him, that Stolas wanted nothing to do with him.

And even still, he didn't acknowledge the fact that Stolas did allow Blitz to use it (despite him stealing it first). Even though they weren't even close to speaking terms, Blitz still protected Stolas that day.

He could've tried to save his own ass. He could've been petty about the deal and said, "here, Stolas, this is what you get." But he didn't. Because even though Blitz has his own valid reasons for being mad at Stolas, he still loves him. And he'd still do anything to keep him out of danger.

Blitz tends to prefer actions over words (e.g., that's why Blitz gets upset when Stolas gives him the crystal. He interprets Stolas's actions as "you're throwing me away.") Stolas tends to prefer words over actions (e.g., that's why Stolas gets upset when Blitz roleplays with "I love you/I'll stay with you." He interprets Blitz's words as "this is a joke to me.")

But that day? They both chose the opposite.

Stolas's actions saved Blitz. And Blitz's words saved Stolas.

Isn't that neat?

#stolitz #helluva boss #blitz #stolas #just some sneaky thoughts #helluva boss blitz #helluva boss stolas

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mrsimpurity · 3 days ago

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do-re-mi-fa-so fucking done with you!

(credits for art: _3aem on twt/x <3)

inspired by this song!

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: bit of angst, mentions of infidelity, reader is a brat, satoru calls her a bitch (it's justified dw), p in v, creampie, edging, MDNI

a/n: i love utahime i just didn't know who else to put pls spare me the lecture...

satoru never thought that the sound of glass breaking outside his house would send him into such panic. but accompanied by the sound of his car alarm blaring, he swore it was the most infuriating thing to ever happen to him.

and of course, it was all because of you.

let’s face it - your relationship with satoru was doomed from the start. you were jealous and obsessive and he was… well, himself.

he knew his conscience was clear and that he would never even think about doing the things you loved accusing him of, but his attitude was so nonchalant and suspicious that it constantly drove you into these insane breakdowns.

“baby, put the knife down, i’m begging you. my phone died, i swear.” satoru would hear himself saying quite often, in his best attempts to calm you down, handing you his dead phone in defeat.

but you were untameable.

at the start, it was cute. he loved this jealous side of you - which man wouldn’t? it made him feel special, knowing that you were willing to go to such lengths to keep him all to yourself.

but the honeymoon phase ended when he made the grave mistake of accepting a mission far away with a certain fellow sorcerer. a female sorcerer.

“you go on this mission and we’re done.” you threatened satoru. the mission was two days away and he had already accepted, but you didn’t know that… yet.

and now satoru was beginning to think that maybe telling you wasn’t really worth it - he’d prefer to die there than by your merciless (and psychotic) hand.

“i don’t want you being away with another woman. and it doesn’t matter if you’re planning to save orphans from a burning building. the answer is no.” you continued. satoru’s palms were only getting sweatier by the second.

did he really have to break it to you? for a moment, he considered just not accepting the mission. losing his job actually sounded easier than handling another one of your tantrums.

but indeed, there was no getting out of this. you are crazy, but there must be some way of taming you. right?

following his confession, satoru was left surprised. he thought that you’d reacted too quickly and had already killed him - perhaps he’d already been sent to heaven?

because why else would you just quietly get up, bottom lip caught between your teeth and eyes glossy, and leave the house without saying a word?

well, it all made sense when this evening, you woke satoru’s entire neighbourhood up for a quick midnight entertainment.

”you crazy bitch! that’s my range rover!” his voice wasn’t shaky like it used to be.

during the time which had passed, he’d realized that your quiet exit meant something more than your meltdowns did - you guys really were over. and he’d never accept such behavior ever again.

for better or for worse, you had chosen not to lash out at him before. and now he was seeing that it was definitely for the worse.

“thanks, but i know what car brand it is. what a shame though, huh?” you shouted over the car alarm blaring, bat in hand, the windshield of satoru’s expensive car shattered to pieces.

“get away from the car before i make you pay the damages. i thought you said we were over.” satoru was fuming. there really was no getting rid of you.

“and that’s what you’d like, yeah? to never see me again? well, pretty boy, that’s not happening before i avenge my dignity.” the audacity you were speaking with and the emphasis you’d put on the stupid nickname only caused satoru’s blood pressure to skyrocket.

hell, he knew you were a bit fucked in the head, but this was absolutely absurd.

“vengeance for what? for me almost losing my life in kyoto so you could keep draining my bank account?” satoru was slowly beginning to approach you, moving from the threshold to the now destroyed vehicle parked on the street.

your figure in the shadows of the street lamps was… exquisite. satoru was angry, fed up and tired, but at the end of the day, he really was just a man.

a man who hadn’t had a taste of you in two weeks.

and it didn’t help his case that you’d thrown a flimsy zip-up hoodie over a tank top and paired it with your pj shorts to go out and wreck your ex’s car.

“you were out cheating on me!” you screamed at him, aiming for the rearview mirror.

“for the hundredth fucking time, i wasn’t cheating on you, i was dying!” his words stroke a chord in you. you slowly lowered your arms down, still keeping your guard but giving him some time to prove that what he was saying was worth listening to.

“you never answered my calls. i was on the brink of death and you didn’t give a fuck. i knew you were hurt, but i had no choice.” satoru’s voice was beginning to waver and he was only getting more emotional by the second.

but you were listening. he could see it with his own two eyes as he swallowed, trying hard to collect his thoughts.

“i know my conscience is clean. i’ve never even thought about utahime like that. hell, i was only thinking about you on that goddamn mission.“

two could play that game, is what he thought. you weren’t the first manipulator this world had seen and you certainly wouldn’t be the last.

so when you finally let your guard down (after a bark or two) and allowed his unsure fingers to trace up your arm, let his eyes roam over your body as his mouth ran a mile a minute, pointless apologies spilling from his lips, he knew he had you right where he wanted.

at the end of the day, you too, were just a woman. and which woman couldn’t be tamed with sex that was a little too good to be true?

that’s how you found yourself in satoru’s bed, naked and begging for his mercy underneath his body, which you were convinced was sculpted by god himself.

he had been edging you for over half an hour, the broken windshield of his range rover long forgotten, the only thing on his mind being making you learn your lesson.

“t-toru, please. i need you. so fucking bad.” your whines were music to his ears. what he had been doing to your body was in stark contrast with the way his calloused fingertips ran down your body ever so gently, coming up once in a while to stroke your hair or get it out of your now sweaty forehead’s way.

“you have me, baby. tell me what you need.”

“need you inside me. now.”

“my bratty baby. so demanding.” he chuckled.

but you didn’t have to tell him twice.

satoru adjusted himself, the tip of his cock teasing your clit with light taps which only drove you madder. you were soaking wet, practically tearing up from how bad you wanted him inside your pussy, hitting all the right spots and pleasuring you all night long.

finally, when he buried himself inside you, you thought you’d cum on the spot. the moan you let out was more than embarrassing and satoru thought that this was the perfect moment he could get his version of revenge.

“you think i had utahime like this? wet and begging for my cock?” he teased.

the way your gaze shot up so you could give him a death glare was almost comical and he thought that if you were to kill him right now, he’d happily die buried deep inside your tight cunt (and with an idiotic grin on his face).

“don’t say that shit while you’re inside me.” you only hissed back, too overcome by pleasure to say anything else.

satoru’s thrusts were relentless and considering how many times he’d stroked his cock in the shower to the mere thought of you while you were gone, it didn’t take long for him to cum.

his warm seed spilling inside you sent you over the edge and you came, body spasming wildly, your velvet walls clenching around satoru’s length.

he didn’t bother keeping his voice down, moaning at just how snug your pussy was around his cock, your eyes rolled back in feeling too great to describe, nails scratching his forearms for dear life.

satoru slowly pulled out of you, his cum spilling out of your clenching hole. you whined at the sensation, still catching your breath, chest rising up and down.

your ex was only staring at your tired body in awe, admiring what he’d done to you and placing kisses down your stomach.

you were still facing the ceiling, only choosing to relish in the feelings of his lips so intimately chasing your skin and touch.

“i’m still mad at you.” you said, but deep down, your cunt was still throbbing and your heart wanted nothing more but to have your little troublemaker back.

“don’t make me remind you of the condition my range rover’s in.” satoru replied, slapping your pussy playfully.

you rolled your eyes at him but your desperate whine only gave you away.

well, it’s fine, because satoru’s cock was still painfully hard and he was (almost) sure that his best friend had put him on a “crazy girlfriend” insurance plan.

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uinferno · 2 days ago

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Kinda want to see a manifestation of Cosmere healing where someone becomes so obsessed with not internalizing a disability so it can be healed that they inadvertently hinge their identity on it. While overall, the functionality of the healing is pretty cool—circumventing objective "good/bad injuries" for the subjective—the moment characters recognized what was going on did... undermine that novelty a little.

Whatever is going on, there's certainly nuance even then. I think Leshwi is a prime example where her healing and Identity overwrites the skin patterns of her body but not the sex, meaning that she simultaneously has the need to shave facial hair regularly and the desire to; a fascinating contradiction all things considered. We've seen the healing overwrite sex-characteristics to affirm a gender identity, so something is going on. Leshwi's status in her society puts her in a position to dictate how she's treated, which she does, in fact, do. Everything we know about her points to her body's sex matching her gender. But it doesn't.

I think these contradictions are what is fully needed to make the healing mechanics of the Cosmere deeper and all the more primal. Yes, your foundational sense of self does greatly influence how your body knits itself back together upon injury. Yes, it can cover up tattoos for one person and leave another's alone. Yes, the same can be said with scars. Yes, even circumcision.

But what I really want to see is how healing interacts with someone in denial. Someone who undergone a traumatizing experience, knowing full well their disability can be wiped clean if they only hold tightly to their self before it ever was. Who wants, needs to be healed to get their old life back. I want them to get that opportunity, and discover... No. It's not going away. Not as any sort of divine punishment—healing by its nature is subjective. There is no metaphysical standard for any given trait, even involving disability. It's just something about this person became so preoccupied with being fixed that they inadvertently made the person that they are in the present all about it.

After all, our sense of self is dynamic. My hair extends past my shoulders. I can't not picture myself with long hair. Back in 2019, the thought of me with long hair was preposterous. I had the same damn haircut for most of my life. In a sense, both images are me, but they lie on opposing sides of who I am in time. That's me then. This is me now.

So, for this hypothetical character, they inadvertently made that divide between their past and present selves so stark they can't find their way back. "The person I am is NOT the person I was. That me NEVER would have had this trait."

But you do have the trait. So... that person who "never would" is so foreign, it's irreconcilable.

I guess this hypothetical character would be the Anti-Lopen. For most of what we knew about Lopen, he was a disabled man and one unashamed about it. He didn't just take his identity in stride; he referred to himself, on the regular, as a one-armed herdazian. He fully embraced it as who he was. It was healed anyway. We do see bits and pieces of otherwise from him. The Words of Radiance details on him trying to breathe Stormlight does show a longing for ability again, but there was a sense of inner peace with him, maybe not "acceptance," but "acquiescence." That would have been his life whether he liked it or not, so he might as well like it, but he will never turn down the alternative should it arise.

With the hypothetical person, instead of Lopen's pliability, their rigidity and stubbornness keep them from what they want. Once again, not out of some punishment, but fickle circumstance. A reminder that things do not operate at one's convenience, born of the complicated web of a person's subconscious.

Idk I think it would be interesting to see healing magic continue to be inconvenient for those using it. To fly in the face of "you will be healed if you want it hard enough." For as rigid and understandable as Investiture may be, do not be so coy and bold in your mastery over it. Not out of retribution. It's a natural force. It has no stance on morality, a strictly human concept. To claim its functionality is one of reward or punishment would be like assuming gravity punished anyone hurt by a fall.

#cosmere #cfsbf #stormlight archive #stormlight #i say this as someone whose most stark disability is kinda shitty eyes

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monamedeiros12 · 2 days ago

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All Roads Lead to Texas: Where it Burns

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Part Two of All Roads Lead to Texas!

Summary: As the miles blur and the sun dips low, the middle of the journey turns out to be the most dangerous — where tension simmers, and control begins to slip.

Warnings: age gap (reader is 26, Joel is in his 40's), SMUT - MDNI 18+, swearing, flirting, oral (f!receiving), pet names, pinv, unprotected sex, a little bit of dirty talk, breast play.... think that's it.

Words: 4.6k

A/N: Here is the second chapter guuuysssss. Please let me know if you liked this one, your feedback is always welcome!! love u love u.

part one - series masterlist - full masterlist

part three (coming soon)

Back on the road, the world outside the windows began to shift. The harsh light of the afternoon melted into something softer — golden, slow, almost cinematic. The kind of light that made everything look a little more beautiful, or a little more dangerous. You weren’t sure which.

Joel had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily near the gear shift. He looked more relaxed now, but his jaw still tensed every now and then — like he was thinking about something he didn’t plan on saying out loud.

You shifted in your seat, stealing a glance at him, and he caught it — just barely. His lips curled slightly, the corner of his mouth betraying a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Not yet.

“Be honest with me now, Joel,” you begin.

“Ain’t I always?” he replies.

“Seriously, why did you decide to give me this ride? At first I really thought you were used to it, but you said that’s not the case. So… what was it?”

He thinks for a moment before answering, his face unreadable.

“I think I just sympathized with your situation. It happened to me before — car breaking down in the middle of the road. Figured since we were headed to the same place… and you didn’t look like much of a threat, I’d make the offer.”

You nod slowly, considering his words. There was something almost casual in the way he said it — like giving a stranger a ride was just another Tuesday. But underneath, there was that current again. That quiet awareness between the two of you, always humming just beneath the surface.

“But I was wrong though,” he adds, now glancing at you.

“About what?”

“You are a threat. A real dangerous one.”

A smile reaches your lips before you can stop it.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. You got quite the mouth on you, sweetheart.”

“Watch it, Miller, or I’ll have to demonstrate exactly what this mouth is capable of.” So much for subtle, right?

He shifts slightly in his seat. “See what I’m talkin’ about?”

“Oh, I see,” you laugh it off. “But seriously, I’m really grateful you’re doing this. You’re saving me a lot of time. And I’m not just saying that. I mean it.”

“I know. And it’s nothin’, trust me. I’m actually shocked you said yes. You don’t really have much of a sense of danger, do you?”

“Okay. Let me defend myself,” you begin, “If this were any other situation, I never would’ve accepted. But I was already too far gone to turn back. So I just decided to trust my instincts that you weren’t a serial killer.”

“Don’t celebrate too soon — we still got plenty of miles to go.”

“I know. I’m also praying you actually know where the fuck you’re going. Because I’m relying 100% on you here.”

“Yeah, well, that was a dumb choice. I’m just followin’ the road, hopin’ we eventually get there.” He shoots back, sarcastic.

“Funny.”

“I know.” He winks at you.

You start to believe you’re not that bad of company, because after a while, Joel actually lets you change the playlist. You feel so flattered that you put on something he won’t totally hate. It’s still country — just not as old as the stuff he was playing before.

“Let’s play a game,” you declare.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“No. It’s the perfect idea.”

“How old are you? Fifteen?”

“Shut up. I’ll go first. Name three things you’ve noticed about me since we met.”

“You mean, since we met five hours ago?”

“Exactly.” You smile at him.

“Let me think… You talk a lot.”

“Agreed.”

“You don’t know what good music sounds like.”

You roll your eyes, already tired of that one.

“Older men are annoying.”

“And last... I bet that hair of yours feels perfect wrapped around someone’s fingers.”

You turn to him, genuinely stunned. Heat creeps up your skin — slow and sharp.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” you try to play it off, pretending your pulse isn’t racing.

“I know you weren’t.” A smirk pulls at his lips. “Your turn.”

Honestly, you’d need a few minutes to recover, but you try to think fast.

“Well, not only are you old, but you also like old things. You listen to old music, you have an old car, even though you have enough money to buy another one.”

“How do you know I have enough money?”

“’Cause you own a company.”

“A small company,” he corrects.

“Whatever. It’s a company.”

Joel shrugs.

“You try really hard not to smile when I say something stupid. But you do anyway.”

“That’s not—” he begins.

“It’s my turn now.” You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “And your hands. I noticed those right away. Can’t exactly miss them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I will not explain myself,” you reply, looking out the window.

That makes him laugh. “Okay, then.”

You couldn't say the truth. That you have imagined the most nasty things involving his hands. Like how his thick fingers would feel inside of you. Your skin starts to tingle with the thought, so you change the subject.

“Life is crazy isn’t it?”

“Oh, it is. Learned that a long time ago.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to him with a curious look.

“I’ll explain in a minute. Finish what you were tryin’ to say,” he replies, eyes still focused on the road.

“Okay. I expected anything from this little adventure of mine, except to end it in a stranger’s car.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” He tilts his head, and you let out a short laugh.

“But that’s exactly what’s happening!” you say, laughing.

“I’m not sayin’ it’s not.” Joel chuckles along with you.

“But what were you saying before? About knowing life is crazy?”

Joel exhales slowly, and when you look at him, you can tell his mind’s somewhere else — another time, another version of him.

“I have a daughter,” he says suddenly, and your eyes widen.

“Really?” you gasp.

“Really.” He chuckles. “Sarah.”

“That’s such a beautiful name,” you say softly.

“Yeah, I think so too. I picked it.” A proud smile spreads across his face. Just saying her name lights something in him. One word, and you can feel how much he loves her.

“Do you know what it means?” you ask.

“Princess,” he answers instantly.

“Yes! I remember being obsessed with name meanings when I was younger!”

Joel looks at you with a wide smile, and it steals your breath for a second.

“I always loved that name, though I only found out what it meant later.”

Your gaze shifts to something you’d already noticed — in fact, it was the first thing you noticed. Joel doesn’t wear a ring. No photos in his truck. No sign of any woman. So you say:

“You’re not married, though.”

Joel notices your eyes on his hand and follows your line of sight.

“Nope.”

“Thank God. I was scared you’d hit me with a ‘my wife and I are taking a break’ kind of thing.” You fake a dramatic sigh of relief.

He laughs again, and you’re starting to get addicted to the sound.

“No, no. No wife, no break, no girlfriend,” he replies. “Why? Afraid I’d break your heart with a yes?” he smirks.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Totally. Most stressful five seconds of my life.”

“And what would you do if I had said yes?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“I know I’m funny and easygoing, but I swear I would’ve slapped you for flirting with me while married.” You point a finger at him.

“Is that what I was doin’?” He feigns confusion.

“Shut up, Miller.” You laugh, shaking your head.

You turn your body to really face him, folding your legs beneath you, hands resting on your thighs.

“Tell me about her. About your Sarah,” you ask quietly, hoping it’s not too much.

That smile tugs at his mouth again. “She’s my whole world.” A few seconds pass before he continues. “Had her when I was pretty young — that’s why I know how crazy life can be. She’s 19 now. Just went to college.” His smile brightens. “Couldn’t be more proud.”

You can’t help but smile too.

“She’s the sweetest girl in the world. Hilarious. Crazy smart.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” you ask softly.

“Yeah. I do. Everything I do is for her.” He pauses. “Her mom, though… It’s complicated. Haven’t seen her in years.”

“Sorry about that,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. It’s better this way. She wasn’t the most reliable person.”

You hear it in his voice — something old and heavy — and you know not to push. So you change the subject.

“My parents live in New York. It’s really hard being that far from them. But for me, it’s impossible to stay away from my sister — even for a couple of months.”

“Let me guess, you’re the little sister?” he echoes your earlier words.

“Yes,” you answer with a grin. “She’s my biggest inspiration. We’ve always been close, ever since we were kids. So it’s extra hard being away from her.”

“I get it. I’m really struggling now that Sarah’s gone off to college. One of the reasons I’m takin’ more trips than usual. Tryin’ to keep my mind busy.”

“That makes sense,” you reply, but a yawn escapes before you can stop it.

Joel glances at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Am I boring you?”

“You? God, no.” you stretch your arms above your head, the movement slow and limited by the car, “Just didn’t sleep much, that’s all.”

“There’s a motel up ahead, but it’ll still take us almost two hours to get there,” Joel says.

“Awfully specific… You in a hurry to get me behind four walls and a bed, Joel?” you tease.

“In a hurry?” He snorts. “Honey, I don’t think you can do much of anything with all that yawning.”

“For you? I’d do anything. Sleepy or not.”

Joel looks at you — gaze locked on yours for a few seconds — before turning back to the road and murmuring:

“God, you’re trouble.”

You lean back in your seat with a shrug. “You started it…”

Two hours later, the motel finally shows up — a tired-looking sign flickering in the dark, casting a dull neon glow over the gravel parking lot. Joel kills the engine, and as you step out of the truck, you can practically hear your legs and butt screaming, “Thank you!”

The place isn’t bad — definitely better than a few of the options you passed that morning. Simple, but at least it looked clean. The lobby is dimly lit, fake plants in every corner, a couple of buzzing vending machines, and the lingering smell of stale coffee in the air.

You follow Joel to the reception desk, where a woman greets you both with a polite smile. He steps forward, resting his forearms on the counter like he’s done this a hundred times before.

“Hey, just need a room for the night,” he says.

She clicks around her computer for a moment, then looks up with an apologetic smile.

“Guess it's your lucky day, we have only one room left, a queen bed.”

“Well,” Joel murmurs, voice low and borderline dangerous, “think you can handle that, pretty girl?”

You scoff, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I’ve survived worse.”

Joel chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “That right? Hope you’re not a kicker. Or a cover thief.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “Hope you’re not a cuddler. I bite.”

He leans in just slightly, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Careful, sweetheart. I might like that.”

You smile, sharp and playful. Joel turns back to the woman.

“That’ll do.”

——

The door creaks open, and the room greets you with a soft, amber glow. A single lamp near the bed casts warm light across the hardwood floor, pooling in golden tones. The queen-sized bed takes up most of the space.

It’s clean. Quiet. And just small enough to make things a little more... interesting.

Joel goes back to the truck to grab your bags so you both can change. While he’s gone, you slip into the bathroom to take a shower.

The bathroom is plain — white tile on the walls and floor — the shower tucked into a narrow glass stall. Not luxurious, but it’ll do. A small mirror hangs above the sink, reflecting the warm light spilling in from the bedroom.

When the hot water hits your skin, it’s almost a religious experience. You didn’t realize how tense your body was — sore from the hours in the car, sticky from the relentless summer heat. You needed this.

You’re almost finished when you hear a knock on the door.

“I’m back. Don’t go flashin’ me now, alright? I’m a gentleman.”

“Oh, please,” you call out. “You can drop the act. I know damn well that’s exactly what you want.”

“Guilty!” he replies, and you can’t help but laugh, cheeks warming.

When you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around you, skin still flushed from the shower — you might be doing it on purpose.

Joel is sitting at the edge of the bed, typing something on his phone, but the moment he hears you, he looks up. And stares.

His gaze runs over you slowly — shamelessly — and he lets out a low whistle.

“Is this a test of my self-control?”

“It’s just a towel, Miller. Too much temptation for you?” you tease, rifling through your suitcase for a sleep shirt and some shorts.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what you’re doing, trouble.”

You laugh, not confirming, not denying.

It’s Joel’s turn to shower, and while he’s in the bathroom, you dry your hair and get comfortable. The motel, to your surprise, actually has a decent hair dryer.

Once you’re settled, you climb into the bed — left side — and lean against the headboard. Joel comes out a few minutes later, hair still damp, droplets trailing down the sides of his neck. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a plain T-shirt — the fabric clinging to his chest and shoulders from the steam.

Seeing him like this — relaxed, no flannel in sight — is honestly a gift.

He rubs the towel through his hair, then tosses it aside and heads straight for the bed.

“Wow, you’re not even gonna offer to take the floor?” you tease, gaze following him. “Where’s that southern gentleman now?”

“I already picked you up, drove you halfway across the state, and listened to your music for two hours straight. I think I’ve maxed out my favor quota.”

“Chivalry is really dead…” you sigh, mock disappointment dripping from your tone.

“It’s not dead. Just tired. Like me.” He pauses, glancing your way. “And let’s not pretend you don’t want me right here.”

He’s not wrong. Joel turns off the light, leaving only the bedside lamp casting a soft glow across the sheets. The mattress dips as he lies down next to you — at a “respectable” distance. Frustratingly respectable.

“We’re leaving early tomorrow. That okay with you?” he asks, eyes already closed.

“That’s fine,” you reply — a little too tight. Joel notices.

“That fine?” he echoes, teasing.

“Shut up, Joel,” you mutter, turning your back to him — but not before catching the soft laugh he tries to stifle.

You try to sleep. You really try. You shift, turn, breathe. But rest won’t come.

Because Joel Miller is lying just inches away. And his warmth — his presence — is driving you out of your mind.

Your skin is buzzing, nerves taut like a wire pulled tight. Every inch of you feels hyper-aware — of the sheets brushing your bare legs, of your own breath catching, of the sound of his, steady and maddeningly calm behind you. Your heart won’t slow down, and you can’t stop imagining his hands — how they’d feel on your skin, how easy it would be to just turn around and take.

And just when you think he’s asleep, you hear his voice — low, rough:

“You keep movin’ like that, sweetheart... you’re gonna make it real hard for me to be a gentleman.”

The words land on your skin like heat. His voice, gravelly and restrained, sounds like it’s been waiting all night to come out.

You freeze — just for a moment — then let out a quiet laugh, still facing away.

“Maybe I’m testing you,” you whisper. (Lie. It was more the other way around.)

Without warning, he moves. Slow. Sure. The mattress shifts and his arm slides around your waist, pulling you back against him. You can feel every inch of him — solid and warm at your back.

His lips brush your ear, voice now deeper, hoarser.

“You’ve been testing me all damn day. You don’t fuckin’ know how strong I’ve had to be not to put my hands on you.”

Your body goes still — then tense. Not from fear. From need.

You tilt your head, just enough for your lips to hover near his.

“Joel,” you breathe, voice raw, “if I’d really been trying to drive you crazy... you’d have fucked me hours ago.”

He goes still.

Then you feel it — the shift in his breath. The grip tightening on your waist.

“Then stop fuckin’ holding back.”

Before you can think of a clever reply, he pulls you around — fast, but careful — and his mouth crashes into yours.

Hot. Hungry. No hesitation.

One hand cups your jaw, anchoring you to him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

There’s no more teasing now. Just want.

You thread your fingers into his hair, moaning into his mouth. He pulls you into his lap, flat on his back now, you straddling him — his lips never leaving yours.

You can feel his cock getting hard, right where you need it.

You break the kiss to trail your mouth down his neck, open-mouthed kisses over hot skin. His scent makes you dizzy.

Joel groans, gripping your waist tight, his other hand tugging gently at your hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.” he whispers.

“Good. Been thinking about this since the moment I saw you in that damn gas station.” you admit, all reservations gone.

It does something to him — you see it in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches. His hand tightens around your thigh and he murmurs, low and wrecked:

“Fuck.”

Then, without hesitation, his other hand comes up to grip your jaw, firm and hungry, and he pulls you into another kiss — desperate, messy, like he can’t get close enough, like he’s been starving for you.

“Should’ve had you hours ago,” he says against your mouth. “Should’ve pulled over and fucked you right there, in the fucking truck.”

You lose control.

Grinding down on him, chasing every bit of friction you can get with the frustrating layers of fabric still between you. Desperate for more. Needing more.

Joel finally grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. And when he sees you — really sees you — the look he gives you is devastating.

His breath catches. His eyes roam over every inch of your skin, like he’s trying to memorize it, worship it.

“Goddamn…” he mutters, almost under his breath, like the sight physically wrecks him. Then, eyes still locked on you: “You’re unreal.”

You’re about to say something — something witty — but then his lips wrap around your nipple and suck gently, and all thoughts leave your body.

“Joel…” you whisper, breathless, arousal dampening your panties.

His hands are huge, and when he grabs your other boob, it is too much for you to handle.

A moan escapes your throat, and you can’t stand still nomore.

“Easy, pretty girl. You’ll get what you want, just let me have this first.” He murmurs, mouth still against your soft skill.

“Just let me feel you at least.” you say, voice struggling to come out.

He helps you to take off his shirt, and your hands go immediately to his chest. His hot skin, his broad body, it was exactly how you imagine it would be.

“You’re so beautiful.” you whisper, a piece of your soul coming out of your mouth. But it was true, Joel was unfairly handsome.

Joel grabs your waist, eyes locked on yours.

“If I’m beautiful, then I don’t know what the hell that makes you.” His voice drops. “You... you’re somethin’ else. Damn near perfection.”

You smirk, leaning in just a little closer, your voice a soft tease against his lips.

“You haven’t even seen all of me yet.”

His jaw tightens as his hands slide lower, grounding you to him.

“I don’t need to,” he growls. “I’ve seen enough to know I’m already fucked.”

For that, you have no answer. So you just lean into him and kiss him again, slower this time, really tasting him, feeling the sensation of his tongue against yours.

Your body is so hot that you feel like you’re on fire. You intertwine your arms around his neck, trying to get impossibly closer to him.

Joel leans forward, and your hands go immediately to his back, like you’re trying to know every single piece of him with your touch.

He switch positions, now it is his body that is pressing yours. His kisses start to trail down your body, making your skin tingle. And when he slowly takes off your shorts and panties, your body shakes in anticipation.

He drinks in the sight of you, yor arousal glistening along your cunt, and Joel’s breath gets caught in his throat — He’s hypnotized.

“I’m gonna ruin you.” he whispers, still looking at your dripping pussy.

“Good.” you say back, and he gives you one last look before his mouth is finally on you.

Your moan is immediate, uncontrollable. His tongue is exactly where you need it, his movements confident, precise.

“You are incredibly sweet, pretty girl. Just like I knew you’d be.” he murmurs into you, voice sending vibrations through your core.

When his tongue slips inside you, you gasp, your body arching.

“Fuck, Joel. Fuck, fuck fuck.”

Joel’s grip on your thigh gets stronger, keeping you in place.

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

The feeling was indescribable, his perfect movements making it hard to believe that this was actually the first time he was touching you.

His pace is constant, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel that you’re close.

“Joel— Joel I’m—” you can’t even finish your sentences, but Joel doesn’t give you what you want. No. He does the opposite, taking his wet tongue out of you.

“No baby. No yet.” he says, taking off his pants, “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, yeah?”

He looks at you, and you nod quickly, giving him all the consent he needed;

“Yes. Yes, please.”

Joel saddles between your legs, the hard head of his cock brushing your entrance until he finally pushes in, hard and rough, making you gasp with the intrusion.

It feels perfect — his heat inside of you making you question why you took the whole day to feel this.

“Oh baby, you’re so tight.” he groans, jaw clenched.

“You feel so good, Joel.” you whimper “So fucking good.”

Joel sets a rough and deep pace, hitting the perfect spot inside of you and making you go insane.

You move your hips so he can go deeper. Your bodies moving in perfect synchrony.

Then, Joel starts to rub your clit, making you squirm under him. Your high getting closer again. You dig your nails on his back, trying to hold on to something.

“You’re gonna come for me, pretty girl?” Joel says with a hoarse voice, making your arousal worse.

“Yes, Joel. Please let me have this one.” you cry out, desperate.

“Wanna hear you beg, baby.” he caress your thigh, making the skin tingle.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Please, Joel. Please let me come on your cock. Please give this to me.”

Joel puts your leg higher, and he pushes inside of you impossibly deeper. Three more thrusts and you're done. Body going limp when pleasure hits you.

Your walls clench around Joel, his movements getting sloppy, and soon he’s pulling out just in time — spilling across your belly, breath ragged.

He collapses beside you, breath coming out ragged, and then he looks at you. Something indescribable in his eyes. And for a second, you’re worried that he somehow regret it, but then, a beautiful smile appears on his lips, and he leans in and kiss you, taking your breath away.

“You okay?” he whispers, lips still on yours.

“Yes.” you whisper back, the same smile reflecting on you.

You glance down at the mess on your stomach. Joel follows your eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” and he sounds genuine, making you laugh a little.

“No problem, cowboy.” and with two fingers, you dip into his cum and taste it. Joel watching your every move. “You taste good.”

“Jesus Christ.” he groans, hand over his face. “Don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?” you feign innocence, kissing him again — deep, hungry.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before I lose control again,” Joel says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay,” you laugh softly.

Joel gets out of bed, puts his pants on and goes to the bathroom, coming back a few seconds later with a small cloth. He wipes your belly carefully, like you were made of glass.

“All done, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he teases, a smirk on his lips.

“Not if you keep smirking at me like that.” you replie jokely, making him laugh.

“Tell you what—close your eyes and I’ll try to behave.”

“Deal.”

You look around searching for your clothes, but find his shirt first.

“Mind if I wear that?” You ask, pointing at it.

“Not at all, honey. Just know that seeing you in my clothes might drive me a little crazy.”

“And the downside is…?” you tease, slipping his shirt over your head. His smell instantly infecting you.

“Alright, trouble. Let’s get some sleep.” he murmurs softly.

You both lie down on the bed, Joel instinctively pulling you close, your back pressed to his chest. It’s strangely peaceful — a kind of calm you haven’t felt in a long time.

He then starts to kiss you gently. Your neck, your shoulder, everything that he could reach.

“Didn’t expect much from today. Sure as hell didn’t expect you” Joel whispers through kisses, “But I’m glad I found you at that gas station.”

His confession knocks the air from your lungs, and you hold him a little tighter.

“Me too, Joel… Me too.” you whisper back in the quiet night. And in this “stranger’s” arms, you finally fall into a peaceful sleep.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel x reader #pedroispunk #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #road trip #joel miller smut #smut #fem reader

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nochd · 23 hours ago

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(I should apologize about the long delays between reblogs. I'm having a busy time at work catching up on notes in time for my student's exams while at the same time recovering from the illness that caused the delay in the first place. I should have more time soon.)

Let's start with Eustace's statement.

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

Though Lewis drops Susan from the narrative after this discussion, he doesn't drop this theme. The whole next chapter is titled How the Dwarfs Refused to Be Taken In, and describes how a whole troop of Dwarfs take exactly the same attitude to things that Eustace has just attributed to Susan.

A little context is probably necessary here, in case you haven't read The Last Battle or have blanked it from your memory. The Calormenes have conquered Narnia; our protagonists are among the last hold-outs. There's also a group of Dwarfs who've been fighting against both sides. Nothing is going very well for any of these groups, but the Calormenes and their Narnian agents have been using a small stable for various purposes, most recently an execution chamber for their prisoners of war. The Dwarfs and the protagonists have been shut in the stable---

...except it's not a stable; it's Aslan's Country, all bright skies and gorgeous scenery and delicious fruit trees, and this is where the Friends of Narnia have appeared. What's actually happened is that they've all died and gone to Heaven, which -- this is critical to remember -- Lewis believed was both an actual real place and a better place to be than Earth. Indeed Earth is merely a shadow or reflection of the solid glory of Heaven, a point which Lewis, through Aslan, hammers hard and repeatedly when we get to the end of the book. Dying and going to Heaven is a good thing to happen to someone.

But the Dwarfs don't see Heaven the way the protagonists do. All they can see is the darkness of the stable. Try to pull them out and they complain you've bashed them against the wall. Show them fresh flowers and what they smell is rotting straw and horse-dung. Aslan creates a marvellous feast for them and they taste old turnips and water out of the donkey-trough. Aslan sadly remarks that to make them see the truth is something even he cannot do.

The same thing has happened to the Dwarfs' perception of Aslan's Country as previously happened to Susan's memories of Narnia -- the same thing, come to that, as happened in The Magician's Nephew to Uncle Andrew's perception of the Talking Beasts.

Just to be clear: the theory Lewis is advancing here is that we unbelievers don’t see the evidence for God and the supernatural, not because it’s hidden, not because it takes some effort to understand, not because we are looking in the wrong places, not because Satan is telling us lies, but because we are closing our minds to it. On purpose. Because we just don’t want to know.

And if atheists to you are a Them instead of an Us, consider: exactly the same argument dismisses anyone who believes in a different god than the arguer's. Lewis makes it abundantly clear, especially in The Last Battle, that he is not an adherent of what has become the progressive consensus, that each religion is true for its own believers and there is no factual dispute to be had. Other gods exist in the Narnian world, but every one is either Aslan's servant or his enemy.

This is already a long diversion, but this is something I have to say. I was a believer before I was an atheist; I am not entirely unacquainted with religious ecstasy or the experience of communion with the divine. I know what "evidence" Lewis is talking about. Since I no longer believe that it signifies the existence of a real God -- real in the Philip K. Dick sense of "that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away" -- I am, in Lewis's schema, lumped in with Susan and Uncle Andrew and the Dwarfs.

Here's the difference. Suppose the Dwarfs, thinking themselves to be in a dark stable, had taken the protagonists aside, separately, and asked them for a detailed description of the surrounding scene, in whispers so they couldn't collude; suppose they had then come back together and compared notes. They would have found the descriptions matched each other, tree for tree, flower for flower, rock for rock.

Suppose Uncle Andrew had asked Digory, Polly, and Frank the Cabman separately what they imagined each of the Talking Beasts had said, again taking care to prevent them from colluding. He would have gotten almost verbally identical answers from each.

In either case the sceptic would have been faced with incontrovertible evidence that there was something going on beyond their ken.

Now imagine doing the equivalent with the mystical visions and divine experiences of people from different religious traditions around the world and across history. You might be able yourself to weave all the narratives together, if that was what you were interested in, but the narratives wouldn't do it for you. It would be more reasonable to conclude that each visionary's experiences were coming from a private reality than from one they all shared.

But Lewis isn't here for me to say all that to him.

Susan has forgotten Narnia because, like Uncle Andrew and the Dwarfs, she has "chosen cunning instead of belief". She wants to be an adult, not a child; she looks down at the world in cynicism, not up at it in wonder.

What's that got to do with nylons and lipstick and invitations? I honestly am trying to keep this thread shorter than the Silver Chair one, honestly, guys, but that question is going to have to wait till next time.

So my post from December about the relationship between Tolkien's Lay of Leithian and the Narnia book The Silver Chair has gotten traffic again over the past week for some reason, and someone called @violetutterances left these tags:

#this was deeply fascinating as someone who has read both Lewis and Tolkien #I'd love to hear op's thoughts about The Susan Problem #I have no dog in that fight because I haven't been interested in Lewis since college but I'd love op's commentary within the context of thi

Hopefully this is not going to get "colour of the sky long" this time. Lots of other people have talked about the Susan Problem before, whereas I've never found anyone else who's noticed the Leithian-Silver Chair connection.

In case anyone reading this is in today's lucky 10,000, "the Susan Problem" is about what Lewis does with Susan Pevensie in The Last Battle. In the course of the series, eight children from Our World cross into Narnia; in The Last Battle all of them except Susan have formed a secret society called "the Friends of Narnia". The events of the book see the Friends gather in what turns out to be Aslan's Country (=Heaven) after the Narnian world comes to an end. A Narnian character comments on Queen Susan's absence, and the following exchange ensues:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia." "Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'" "Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up." "Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can." "Well, don't let's talk about that now," said Peter.

Not counting Peter, who is clearly uncomfortable with the whole subject, that's three statements about Susan and three points made. The message most readers take from the whole dialogue is: Susan grew up, she got interested in boys, Lewis disapproves so he sent her to Hell.

The real picture is more complicated than that -- but not necessarily better.

Whilst I do hope this thread doesn't get as long as the previous one, that's enough for one post. I'll be back.

#susan pevensie #the susan problem #c. s. lewis #chronicles of narnia #faith #religion #disbelief

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dedrameeroapologist · 2 days ago

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Take this with a grain of salt because I just think too much about something most likely irrelevant. So, I rewatched all S1 scenes with Dedra for science (rebel!AU), especially to remind myself whether Dedra really was expected to be better than everyone, or if it was just her ambition. Partagaz specifically says,

"There's a high bar for your performance."

I did think it's perhaps just ISB standard because later he says,

"That's why we're bringing in officers like you."

And it can easily be interpreted like she's not meeting ISB standards here, but no. She is expected to do better than ISB standards

"There's a high bar for your performance. Unfair perhaps, but senseless to ignore, and potentially the foundation of a uniquely superior career. You're supposed to be more competent and tucked away, that's why you're here."

So maybe I'm stating known things here, and came late to the party. But Dedra isn't just held to the ISB standard and never was. I was thinking what reason would have Partagaz to actually dot on Dedra. We don't see him giving any advice to anyone else privately. Not even to Heert, who is under Dedra. And he backs her all the time, even to Yuralen who seems to not be impressed with her.

I wonder if it's cut part of fitting 3 seasons into one, but it looks like she was supposed to be shown that she specifically is groomed for far higher positions - "uniquely superior career." If it were just about power and outranking others, it would be a "superior career.". So, Dedra herself is a unique case of an officer within the Empire.

Which moves us fast forward to S2 and Kalkite meeting. She was specifically selected by Krennic despite Ferrix (which honestly should be blamed on that guy who kicked B2), and as he said, he wanted her plan specifically, and she already had one "before they finished talking". But like, why would Krennic even know about her? She's just a Lieutenant Supervisor at ISB. He's in the Imperial High Command, and his branch is the Imperial Military Department of Advanced Weapons Research. ISB has an affiliation with it, but again, Dedra had no idea how the attendant who gave her information was called. So it kinda makes no sense for Krennic to know someone far below him, from a different division. Especially when he's clear in S2 that Supervisors are just "clerks" to him and beneath his reputation to care about. Technically, you could say they know her because of Ferrix failure, but also if it were any other supervisor in her place, they would have no career. So my theory is that Dedra, because of being raised by the Empire and having potential, was part of some gifted kids group that she didn't even know about.

So everyone demanded exceptional results because she was meant to be a perfectly shaped mold. High Command and Partagaz, as the one directly above her, would know they needed to shape her with challenges. Results of an ordinary supervisor would be lost in the ether, but if true, Dedra would be closely monitored. It would also explain why Partagaz considers Dedra his pupil. He was aware that her mind alone would be worth ten others combined. This would also fit within my theory that Dedra is actually pretty young. From my calculations, the ideal age would 25 yo in 5BBY* when Andor starts. It's enough to finish Royal Imperial Academy, even so if she was good enough to skip some classes. What makes me think that is that in S1, everyone treats her like a newbie, like she doesn't know how ISB even works. If she really was younger than most Lieutenants, it would make sense. It looks like she wasn't an attendant and came a Lieutenant straight from Enforcement. Where I suspect they saw in a short time she exceeded the expectations for that branch and would be more beneficial in Investigations, which is exactly what happens. So I would say in a way, Dedra wasn't aware that she was a sophisticated tool for the Empire. As long as there were results, she could bend the rules more than others; she could slip here and there because, in the long term, it was still beneficial. Her chain of luck ended when Lonni stole her codes. Even when Krennic is interrogating Dedra, he still admits "How does one balance such passionate competency with the mindless decision to confront Luthen Rael on your own?"

Dedra was really good in their eyes, probably too good, and because of that, she started to break the mold that Empire created for her. When she saw the outside through the cracks, she noticed the incompetence of the Empire, superiors, and how most go after their own benefit rather than the benefit of the Empire. This is why paradoxically she started to rebel against her own. Unaware of it, she started to fight the system that created her to be greater than most. When that happened, it made the system flawed and imperfect. It couldn't feed her enough.

Since I love parallels, it's like the Empire is Kronos, whose children were more powerful, and he feared they would overthrow him, so he ate them instead. Dedra, Krennic, Partagaz, Lonni, Tarkin, etc., could be seen as children who were eaten, while Vader fulfills the role of Zeus, who "kills" Palpatine. Together, all of them had their part in the fall of the Empire, just like Zeus killed Kronos with the help of his siblings.

*She couldn't be in her 30s or 40s as it would make her around +/-20 years old when the Galactic Empire was created, so her kinderblock past makes absolutely no sense. Honestly, I don't even have an idea what I'm saying, my mind is literally this.

#dedra meero #andor season 2 #andor #andor spoilers #major partagaz #lio partagaz #orson krennic

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fanfictionsweetheart · 2 days ago

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Gentle

Pairing: Happy Lowman x Reader

Summary: Happy Lowman has never been known for his gentleness. But for his Old Lady he can be.

Trigger/Content Warning(s): light smut, implied smut, aftercare

Word Count: 855

A/N: I have such a weakness for aftercare in fics and drabbles! Cross posted from my ao3

Happy wasn’t known for his tenderness. He was a biker. He was rough and harsh. The kind of man that no parent wants their daughter to end up with.

He was a killer.

If you spared him a glance you would never think he had it in him to be gentle.

You would be right of course. Even when it came to life with his old lady, the woman he claimed he loved more than his own life, he wasn’t what one would consider gentle. He didn’t speak sweet nothings into the air whenever he saw her. He didn’t hold hands, he gripped her around the waist possessively. His dark eyes didn’t seem to change and he didn’t smile in public often. Even when her own smile was ever present.

She was soft and sweet most of the time while he was hard and harsh.

To most they made no sense.

Yet she smiled at him whenever she saw him. Hugged onto his arm and pecked his cheek. The only visible gentleness was that he allowed her to do so.

This even extended into their home and sex life.

Happy didn’t make love. He fucked. And he fucked hard.

And truth be told, she enjoyed it.

His rough hands, harsh bites, and even harsher words. The occasional bruises he gave her from a night together worn with pride, just as she wore his crow with pride.

She wouldn’t have married him if she didn’t enjoy how he fucked.

Manhandling her into whatever position he wanted and using her body for his own pleasure. Bringing her immense pleasure in the process. Thighs shaking and bearing the marks of his harsh grip. Voice raw from screaming out her many orgasms of the night. Jelly legs and tear stained cheeks. He would often fuck her like he didn’t care if she got off or not…though, of course, he did, and he knew just how to get her off.

When he was done with using and abusing her body to both their ends was when the gentle side that nobody would believe existed was revealed.

He would encourage her to get into a comfortable position before getting out of bed and going about his usual after sex routine. He would get a cold bottle of water from the fridge and bring it back to her. Opening it and helping her drink a few good swallows, holding her cheek gently while slowly tipping the bottle until she nodded she was okay.

He would then go and grab two warm wash clothes. One to gently wipe away any mascara tear streaks and soothe her slightly red and swollen eyes. The other to carefully clean between her legs and cum from her body if he came on her rather than in her tonight.

After that he would grab her favorite scented body lotion and carefully massage any aches and pains away. His hands which had taken so many lives were so tender with her as he worked her over in a different way. From shoulder to fingers on both arms. From ankle to hip on each leg. Then her back and neck. And sometimes he would wipe the lotion from his hands and gently massage her scalp if he had pulled her hair that night.

The entire time his gravelly voice was used to murmur those secret sweet nothings to her. Praising her for taking him so well. Assuring her that he didn’t mean any degrading comments he made while fucking her. Telling her all the things he loved about her. While he told her he loved her before bed every night, and in subtle quiet ways that only she understood throughout their days, there was something about this moment that truly exemplified that love he felt for her.

He would bring her a snack if she wanted or needed it after the massage, typically something sweet. He would feed it to her, even if she insisted that it wasn’t necessary to do so.

He would help her into a clean pair of panties and one of his t-shirts, her favorite being an old, worn-in SAMTAC shirt. The only one he had left after they moved to Charming together. It reminded her of when they met and he knew it, that was why he kept it. He would hold her then, and run his fingers through her hair while she cuddled closer.

He would tell her he loved her.

And she would tell him.

He would kiss her lips and then her temple and smile softly, his dark eyes warm with that love.

And while she rested her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, he would talk to her about anything, a new project for his bike or that one really weird customer at the garage or an old story from a run that he could share, until she fell asleep.

Then he would kiss her temple again and drift off himself.

No, Happy Lowman was not known for his tenderness.

He was harsh and cruel.

A killer.

But in these moments, with his woman, he was gentle.

#my work #sweetheartfic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #happy lowman #happy lowman fanfiction #smut #fluff #happy lowman x you #happy lowman x reader

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multiheadcanons · 6 hours ago

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MERCENARIES, AS QUEER AS YOU CAN GET ‘EM

scout: probably the straightest guy on the team. i think scout suffers more from being touch starved than he is actively a man lover, but that begins the argument of what makes a “genuine queer” and i have no interest in having that debate. its pride month and i got back pain and bills due. i don’t care. fact of the matter is, scout is a certified lady lover. he’s just surrounded by men, and rarely let off the base. so where else is he supposed to get attention from? furthest i’m willing to go in terms of gender is that he might be a passing trans man, because narratively it would make almost more sense if he were to be touch starved and trans and almost dealing with resurfacing struggles of what it means to him to be accepted by men. also penis addition surgery by medic, yk, lil franken-penis action, he can live my dream a lil bit. but i really just think that’s a touch starved young white guy. and i think every mercenary has refused to touch him in any way that could ever be mistaken as more than friendly. and scout wouldn’t fuck pyro, thats his friend. they’re married as a joke.

soldier: soldier is absolutely fruity by most homophobes’ standards. soldier considers it a natural appreciation of the male body, of which there is absolutely nothing wrong with. soldier is also batshit insane, and has blood on his hands from telling the wrong guys they look good. soldier does not care, nor does he consider giving compliments “gay”. and taking the compliment is always smarter when it comes from soldier, because soldier is an equal rights loyalist. he doesn’t care if you’re gay, straight, a dude, a lady, greek or an octopus primed for calamari, if your ass looks good he’ll let you know, and in that same breath he will fight anyone who wants to act funny. if you want to get in his face about it he’ll get right back in yours.

pyro: when you figure out what’s going on in pyro’s pants, you let me know and i’ll let you know what their situation with gender is. another offense member who is severely afflicted by being touch starved. the thing about pyro is pyro doesn’t care. you actually couldn’t pay pyro all of the money in the world to give a shit enough to answer the question of who they like. if someone likes pyro, pyro is in love with them. if someone is nice to pyro, that’s a twenty thousand dollar investment in the Pyro Murder Firm. showing pyro an iota of human decency and kindness will put them on their knees. they have proposed to every member of the team except spy. everyone has agreed. so pyro has seven husbands and you better not put a harmful finger on any of them.

demoman: demoman is one of few openly queer members of the team, and he dares anyone to speak up against that, because he’s got a set of twins called his left and right fist who are happy to educate you. tavish is cis and bi, with no real preference one way or another. as long as you’re of drinking age and confident demo will drop trowel. and tavish is very secure in himself! he will drop many stories of his sexual and romantic escapades, he has many! but if you have anything smart to say be prepared to back it up physically. and tavish knows that, at least for him, a skirt and heels did not a lady make. not of him. but he is also well aware that he is handsome, and does not need any adjusting in that department. demo’s mother kind of missed the shame boat, half the time she literally couldn’t see what he was doing, and when his father passed she tried to keep his spirits up. so shame was never something tavish was raised on, and now he’s an adult and it just doesn’t work. he will still go out in a skirt and heels, and pull plenty.

heavy: when the team started talking about how soldier might be a little… limp wrist motion; this became something heavy stood with soldier on ten toes down. the team was a little shocked, and frankly a little scared, because he defended soldier so hard. and heavy does not defend soldier on anything. very quickly the team caught exactly what he was throwing. the closet is made of dented metal, and the door is open. you almost think it’s empty, but if you stare long enough you can see him stare back at you. heavy does not deny that he feels aroused at women. he isn’t sure what to do when it’s men. so he doesn’t talk about it. he is enraptured with anyone who is physically striking, regardless of who they are or what they’re presenting as. it stuns him. he gets lost. one could call him attracted to aesthetics. and this makes sense in his mind with women. he’s not quite sure why the men are giving him the same feelings. there is something about a man’s weathered body. and something about the hair. it’s soft in a different way. and the way they sound. it stokes a different flame. he cannot find a connection between his preferences for men and women. he doesn’t want to forsake one for the other, either.

engineer: engineer is an enigma to the team and he likes it that way. these men are catty, and who he brings to his bed is nobody’s business but his own. that being said, engineer is pretty gay. the closet is empty, with a neon sign: “dell was here”. it is rare a lady strikes his fancy; though not an entirely obsolete occurrence. and at this point, he’s not really given the time to meet other people anymore? and with him being so far away from home, it’s not really a risk anymore for him to enjoy the company of men. and because it’s something he can do now, he does it more often. it’s a win for him. and romance is pretty much off of the table with him, at least while he works. bee cave is less than twenty miles from austin, known as the queer capital of texas. he’s galavanted as a teen. snuck out, got drunk, saw men in dresses and felt some type of way. came to terms with the way he felt in a poorly fitting dress and drunken makeup at two in the morning, came to terms with how it felt to fuck it off. the queers love dell conagher, and dell conagher loves the queers. some queens and kens still recognize him. he’s beloved, though mainly a myth now in the bar scenes of his hometown.

medic: a human being who has come to terms with and learned to love the body assigned to him, so one could call him a man, sure. he wouldn’t disagree. he realizes he is handsome, and uses every privilege being a handsome man with skin the color of paper can afford him. the closet is made of glass and he stands firmly inside of it, scratching. most people don’t assume he’s queer because when he’s asked he says he’s widowed, which is an unarguably Worse answer to an already invasive question. herbert is solidly aromantic. he’s passionate about his job, he cares for this team, he cares for his birds, and even has tender feelings for misha, of which he has struggled with. because it can’t be called love. obsessive favoritism; genuine worry and heartstopping tenderness. he has lost sleep, and punched walls, and screamed into the night sky for this man. he calls misha his best friend, with an intense gaze and an overwhelming confirmation of his commitment. he would probably never publicly say he loves others. not conventionally, which— societally— means he doesn’t. nobody would be loved by him and be satisfied, unless you yourself do not love conventionally. you may never have a husband, but you will have a man who can move mountains. very attracted to masculinity, though a woman wild enough may have a ghost of a chance.

sniper: sniper is autistic, which influences his rejection of natural gender roles. he doesn’t have the language to say that, he just says he thinks everyone should know how to do their laundry and butcher a chicken, and he doesn’t want kids. and sometimes his hair gets long and he doesn’t have the energy to cut it. sniper groans the second expectations become a topic of conversation. he wonders why its anyone’s business. and sniper is a personable guy, and gets along with most everyone! same way most everyone gets along with him. he’ll never have a wife, or a husband, but he might have a permanent roommate. they might only share one bed! they might cuddle at night. who knows, what is known is that becoming someone sniper considers family is having a permanent fallback in the form of a quiet australian keeping an eye on you; and you reciprocate by keeping your eye on him, too.

spy: spy will fuck any humanoid thing above the legal age with a pulse if he’s up for it. it’s a recurring joke around the base. another of the few openly queer mercenaries; spy has never denied himself an experience or a good time. and between the jobs and the operation and the destruction of what he knew to be his life prior to mann co, spy has lost himself. he is spy. that is who and what he is. and human, if he doesn’t think about what the doctor has done to him. he is everything and nothing at once, and there is a penis attached to his body, and because he’s never experienced having a vagina, he doesn’t particularly care about gender enough to associate as anything more than a man. he works more during sex and he imagines that’s the main difference. this body is fine. it does what he needs it to do. it’s more accurate to call spy an occupational crossdresser, and in a modern era, he may have even been a drag performer. if putting on a silicone triple Z bust and turning his grown man penis into a barbie vagina makes him money, give him the sign up sheet. he does more for less.

#i really wanted to get into the depths of autism affecting gender identity #instead im gonna say every kid with autism know that my heart with em #this took… a lot of mental fortitude to write in a way that felt faithful and also gave me what i wanted #i am… pleasantly surprised with the results. it feels true. it feels genuine.#and im not taking any suggestions on it either tbh #genuinely probably one of my best writings. im very happy with this!#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman

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