#fandom when a character has a close relationship with their dad

[whetstonefires]

Thinking about the parallels set up between Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu, and how actually most of them are oddly specious.

The sketch of the backstory lines up, but on close examination they're mirror images.

Wei Wuxian wasn't kicked out of his sect, he left it. Wei Wuxian didn't hate the house he grew up in, he loved it, and getting the people there killed was the absolute last purpose for which his dark powers were ever intended.

Jiang Cheng was no Mo Ziyuan--his jealousy was a complicated thing all twisted up with love, and while he would lash out at Wei Wuxian both as a casual means of shit communication and more damagingly in moments of high tension, he had neither the desire nor the ability to bully him, and in general respected his boundaries almost too well.

When Wei Wuxian destroyed himself about Jiang Cheng, it was to give him cultivation, and protect his life and happiness. He would never have killed him.

Madam Yu was a domineering aunt-like figure, who hated Wei Wuxian for reasons of reputation, and because she had resented his dead mother, but she crucially did not have the power to actually disrupt his lifestyle to any significant extent.

Mo Xuanyu was shut up in a small room to rot; Wei Wuxian didn't even attend classes unless he wanted to. Mo Xuanyu was weak and disliked; Wei Wuxian was brilliant and popular.

Mo Xuanyu's uncle is a cipher of a figure, without character or agency, a nonentity who is resented to death apparently mostly for what he didn't do; in theory he is the master of the house, but he certainly never protected his wife and son's punching bag from them.

And this is what got me thinking along this track: because people keep interpreting Jiang Fengmian as this, as exactly like Mo Xuanyu's nameless uncle, a nonentity who lets his wife make all the decisions, and is contemptible therefore.

He shows up in fic characterized this way all the time, handled narratively as a gap rather than a person, an absence where there should have been a parent, and it's...totally inaccurate? The man only has a few scenes but the things that are most firmly established about him are:

he regularly goes out of his way to protect Wei Wuxian

he's extremely fond of Wei Wuxian

he cares a lot about ethical behavior

he's conflict-avoidant and gentle

he can and will overrule Yu Ziyuan when he's made up his mind, and there's nothing she can do about it

his communication skills are mediocre at best

he doesn't understand jiang cheng

he has a dumb sense of humor

Now almost none of this made it into cql besides point 4 and maybe 6, 5 is technically there but buried by the cinematic framing, so I totally get why the fandom on the whole struggles to characterize him well, and it's easier to write him off.

But it keeps bugging me to see him and Yu Ziyuan squashed into the mold of the Mo, because not only is that boring and reductive and kind-of-missing-the-point, it's like. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's characterization suffers a lot when you alter the environment and take away the influence exerted by their shared father figure.

Jiang Fengmian was Wei Wuxian's primary adult role model and it shows.

Jiang Cheng's relationship to his own sense of ethics is fraught because 'teaching him good ethics' was his dad's number one parenting goal, but they misunderstood each other so badly (partly because Yu Ziyuan kept loudly misinterpreting them to each other, which is so realistic I can't get over it, that's exactly how it works good lord) that Jiang Cheng has a direct association between the concept of 'doing the right thing even when it's hard' and a feeling of personal inadequacy.

The fact that Wei Wuxian got their dad-person's approval for being exactly himself and Jiang Cheng not only couldn't do that, he couldn't even get that same level of approval when he really pushed himself to rise to expectations, because Jiang Fengmian did not intend that warmth as a 'reward,' and so never realized he was withholding it, and therefore misunderstood Jiang Cheng's visible jealousy as a dangerous sense of personal entitlement that had to be carefully restrained, which reinforced his distrust of Jiang-Cheng-the-person and fed into a shitty loop where they were less and less able to relate to one another--that's fantastic. That's so human! I love it so much.

Both their failures are their own but at the same time it would never have gotten so bad if Yu Ziyuan hadn't been interjecting herself in there, in the middle of their relationship, fucking it up. That's family, baby.

I would ofc like if there was more fic engaging with the subtleties of all this because it's so good, mxtx did such elegant work here and it is not sufficiently appreciated. But it's the kind of thing that's hard to write good fic about; I am struggling with it myself.

So mostly I wish there was just more fic that didn't impose Mo Xuanyu's cliche angst backstory on Wei Wuxian, who has a whole different thing going on.

[mrdogface]

tbh, i've never liked the "alfred as a good dad" of fanon and recent canon. i think that the intergenerational failures of father figures - alfred to bruce, bruce to dick and damian - is a vastly more interesting element of the batman mythos. the idea that none of these men are sitcom Good Fathers but, as adults, tend to find dynamics that work for the most part.

i mean, alfred routinely gets fed up and quits / temporarily walks out on his obviously mentally ill adult son, bruce routinely asserts that he pays the bills and wears the pants, etc. smoothing this over doesn't appeal to me personally because it kakes the characters feel less human and more, idk, saccharine.

loeb is my favourite writer for alfred (and least for dick grayson lmao) and it isn't even close. i like that loeb's clark recognises fatherhood in alfred and yet he's still like, these two are fuckin weird and the vibes are definitely off, and being from a healthy, well adjusted family, I'll never get it

i think a difficulty we in the fandom often have, especially those of us who trend a little younger, is the expectation that these characters - especially bruce - be flawless dads, and that failure to be such means that there's no value or redemption in the complex dynamics these characters have as adults, so we smooth off alfred's edges and, let's be real, act as if dick grayson, who is usually like 28, has no autonomy in choosing to have a relationship with bruce as an adult. imo, it often bespeaks a lot of ignorance about how this kind of thing can play out in real life, in favour of some weird soap operatic idea of parenthood more applicable to those made up stories you read on r/raisedbynarcissists or whatever. idk, i like that these are all people defined by the failures of fatherhood in different, complex ways, and don't like when that thread is lost.

[strawglicks]

Day 765372893 of seething silently over the cathal infantalization in the official clashcord server babes what else is new

[hopeymchope]

No hardcore fandom has ever died so quickly and so completely as Veronica Mars. This is the story of its murder.

They should study Veronica Mars in Hollywood. I'm serious. It's an incredible story of how to go from "loud, passionate fanbase with its own fandom name that campaigns and advocates constantly for it" to "absolutely zero fucking interest" damn near OVERNIGHT with just ONE epically terri-bad decision.

If you weren't there, you don't understand: From 2007 to 2014, the fandom — the "Marshmallows," as they called themselves — were everywhere in the Internet's geek spaces, my friends. They routinely beat the drum about the series' three seasons and its excellence, lamented its cancellation, pushed others to give the show a try, and always - ALWAYS - proudly and loudly called for the series to be revived.

FULL DISCLOSURE/CONFESSION: I've not even watched that much Veronica Mars, frankly... ? Yeah, I'm sorry! it does seem pretty good from like the four-or-five hours I've experienced firsthand. I just never took the time to sit down with it. Regardless, I find fandoms and their dynamics — both how they operate internally and how they display to others externally — deeply fascinating. And I honestly find them easier to study from the outside than the inside. Like, if I'm IN a fandom, I'm more likely to stay in my corner and ignore places that seem negative. But being on the outside lets me just... absorb what's out there, looking into every forum without judgment. It's like studying pop-culture sociology or something? And it helps that I'm very close to some serious(-ly burnt) Marshmallows. It makes it so much easier to find and absorb the gamut of the fandom.

Besides: There is NO fandom story I've ever seen that's anything like what happened to Veronica Mars and the Marshmallows.

(Time to insert a brief explainer for the uninitiated: Veronica Mars was a TV series that aired from 2004-2007 on the now-deceased UPN network wherein Kristen Bell played the titular character, a high school girl whose single dad was a private detective in the fictional community of Neptune, California. She grew up working "unofficially" as his assistant, which meant that she herself was effectively a teenage private detective.

The three core elements of the series were: 1) Veronica investigating each week's big mystery with plenty of quips and snark, 2) Watching Veronica's various relationships develop and shift, with most of the focus given to a) her relationship to her father and b) Her romantic pursuits (which began as the Veronica/Duncan/Logan triangle before eventually becoming focused on the slow-burn, off-on Veronica/Logan love story), and 3) The gradual development of that season's "mytharc" — the overarching BIG MYSTERY that doesn't get resolved or wrapped until the season finale. So it went over the course of two seasons that took place in high school and the third, shorter season that was at the start of Veronica's collegiate career.)

Just how big and how passionate were the Marshmallows? WELL! When series creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 guy) and star Kristen Bell announced the Kickstarter campaign for the Veronica Mars movie in March 2013, it achieved its heretofore-unprecedented goal of TWO MILLION GODDAMN DOLLARS within less than 12 hours. At that time, it was the biggest Kickstarter goal to ever succeed — and certainly the fastest to reach that kind of height. Fans fell OVER themselves to pay out for it. Hell, my own significant other was DEEP in the tank for VM at the time and invested enough to get multiple t-shirts as backer rewards as well as a disk copy of the movie when it eventually came home.

And AFTER the movie hit in 2014? It was thankfully beloved and embraced! The once-teenage characters were adults who were actually out living on their own and working for a living, but the fandom had grown up with them, so it wasn't like they were begging for them to stay young students. They embraced Adult Veronica and her new adventure. The fandom rejoiced loudly and continued to be all over the geek side of the Internet... where they, of course, still wanted more. Sure, there were new novels in the aftermath (which were written by the creator of the series), but most of the Marshmallows were calling for more movies or a streaming revival.

And then, at long last... season four was actually announced. And there was much (premature) rejoicing yet again.

Yes, Veronica Mars returned for a fourth season on Hulu in 2019. It was just eight episodes, and it was heavily centered on one season-long mystery instead of sprinkling that amongst a bunch of smaller ones, but it would still feature the same ol' Veronica. They promised a new, more "adult" mystery/investigation plus a strong focus on Veronica and Logan's love story.

New Hulu purchased the rights to the first three seasons and hyped up its presence on the platform while marketing the return for the new run. The marketing team played up the most popular quips from the show's history plus put out TONS of stuff centered on the Logan/Veronica ship to pump up the fans.

The season was dropped all at once using the classic Netflix "binge" model in July 2019. And then... afterwards?

There was a brief explosion of LOUD RAGE from the Marshmallows at what series creator Rob Thomas had to done to burn and spite the fandom and ruin his own goodwill.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: See, at the end of the movie, Veronica and Logan finally entered into a long-term relationship. In season four, they've been dating for years, and Logan proposes marriage. But of course there has to be drama/obstacles: In this case, Veronica isn't sure she's ready to marry... or capable of being in a marriage. Ah, but of course she eventually realizes how much Logan means to her. The two are married, and, in the season finale... Logan is killed by a car bomb in the penultimate scene. The final scene is a flashfoward to a year later, where Veronica leaves Neptune alone.

For most fandoms, that'd be a memorable point of pain. A big ol' speed bump that ultimately throws some people off the bus, leaving only the die-hards. But the fact that fans had been invested in this relationship for literally 15 years and that Hulu (and creator Rob Thomas) had heavily marketed the new season as being a big romantic event for the ship... it was too much. Unlike the aftermath of the Star Wars sequels, there was no lingering group of die-hard fans who were open to whatever was next — at least no significant one. I did some Googling and could only find TWO people who still wanted another season.

Funnily enough? Critics LOVED this. Hell, Vanity Fair infamously penned an editorial about how Veronica Mars had "finally grown up" with this finale. I suppose all the other murders and deaths and drug overdoses and r*pe weren't "mature" enough before now for... some... reason. (The same editorial also featured the author openly hating on Veronica ever being in a relationship because it causes "arrested development" and declaring that the movie -- which was acclaimed by both critics AND fans alike, I remind you -- was a lame dud. So. The writer must be a reeeaaaal fun person.)

But a series doesn't live based on critical acclaim, as it turns out. The fandom was murdered overnight. "Marshmallows" stopped appearing in geek spaces online entirely. No one expressed interest in seeing the next season or the next movie. The constant flow of fan AMVs on YouTube and fanfics on AO3 dried up to nothing or damn nearly so.

Since 2019 ? Nothing. Chirping crickets. An intensely dedicated fandom of 12 years was just... vaporized.

I've never seen anything like it before OR since.

That's why it's so fucking fascinating.

So what went wrong?

Creator Rob Thomas was adamant about two things: ONE, the series was intended to be a noir show, which meant there couldn't be any happiness for its protagonist. And TWO, the death of Logan was necessary to evolve and grow the series.

Thomas thought that having Veronica in a relationship would be holding her back, and that a marriage would absolutely kill the series and leave her stagnant. It never even occurred to him that marriage isn't the end of a character's life and growth. It never occurred to him that plenty of drama can be had AFTER someone is married, or that development/growth could be that the characters mature enough to be capable of maintaining a committed relationship. Thomas' view of his own universe was so myopic that he couldn't conceive of any possible way that Veronica could still be a private detective involved in life-threatening investigations AND be married at the same time. Futhermore, he felt that fans just wanted Veronica to become a pregnant housewife, which is about as far from what Marshmallows were after as you can get without straight-up killing Veronica and/or Logan. He managed to do the only thing wronger than what he wrongly thought was their insistence.

On top of the above, Rob Thomas only viewed "noir" as a vehicle for total fatalism... despite the fact that many of the most famous noir stories are cynical and full of moral ambiguity, but they still feature a positive outcome. The Big Sleep still has the protagonist get the girl. The Set-Up arguably ends with the happiest possible ending in spite of the beating the hero receives.

Perhaps most importantly? Despite Thomas own insistence that Veronica Mars was always "noir," the majority of both TV critics and fans did not think that designation ever truly applied. I suspect that's the reason why Thomas decided to go as dark and fatalistic as possible: He wanted to be noir, and he was being told that he wasn't. So he went so far into noir that he killed his own most popular property.

He was adamant that it was the only way for the series to grow. But as it turns out, it was instead the only way for the series to permanently end. Without that season four finale, a passionate group of fans would still be begging for more. With it? It's over. Nobody fucking cares now.

That's kind of amazing.

[fabuloustrash05]

2012 Leo didn’t have friends

Truly think about it, did Leo actually have friends that he could call his own? Yes, he’s close with April, gets along with Casey, and respects Slash along with many other characters, but does he actually have a true friend(s)? Someone he can banter with and have a true connection and mutual bond with. And no, his dad does not count.

Compare Leo’s social life to his brothers:

Mikey has Ice Cream Kitty, Leatherhead, Mondo Gecko, Renet, Napoleon, and Sal Commander.

Donnie has April, Fugitoid, Metalhead, Dr Cluckingsworth, and Timothy.

Raph has Casey, Slash, Mona Lisa, Chompy and I’ll even count the rooftop pigeons.

Who does Leo got as friends? His sister and her witch girlfriend. That seems about it for him.

Leo when hanging out with Karai & Shinigami:

Joking aside, I feel Leo not really having his own friends really shows a lot regarding his character and how the roll of being leader and later on Sensai has effected his social life. Not to mention how the fandom can easily identify who each of the other Turtles best friends are, but for Leo we usually draw a blank.

Yes, Leo does have people close to him, I never will disregard his relationship with his brothers or April and Casey, but overall he never got that true special friendship connection that the others got in the series.

The closest we ever got to him having that genuine friendship was Chloe, the little girl he had a tea party with in season 2, and (maybe) Usagi later in season 5. But again, these were short lived dynamics we never get to see again.

[bloop-bl00p]

In defense of Octavia

TW: Lots of Trauma Dumping, Mention of abuse

She’s been wronged way too many times in this fandom for some reason. Look at her vibing, how can you hate her?

I’m a fan of Helluva Boss, mainly because of its potential but the quality dropped dead in the second season. We’re gonna talk about a character I’ve seen other fans misinterpreting in favor of the so-great Prince Stolass.

I want to talk about her mainly because I do what I want and because after studying her character I just realized that she’s just like me. Especially regarding her relationship with her father, I see myself in my younger years.

All of that to say…

She has all the right to feel abandoned.

Octavia obliviously has a stronger bond with her father, it shows in her behavior and little background details

When she wants to draw her family, she draws her and Stolas, we mostly see her being happy with him which leads me to think that she’s emotionally neglected by Stella. To her, Octavia is just an ‘egg’ that fell off her and she doesn't care about the impact killing Stolas could have on her daughter.

Despite being emotionally absent, Stella has a much more physical presence than Stolas. Most of the time Stolas is alone in his castle which leads me to think that Octavia is somewhere else with Stella. They did mention the two went on a weekend somewhere. This leads us to this question…

How can Octavia feel more close to her father?

Here’s the thing, I see a lot of my family dynamic here. My mom doesn’t pay attention to me at all, she doesn't want me to bother her and she makes it clear. My dad, however, who’s absent like 90% of the time, always tried to spare time with me. He explained to me that he was working and why he was doing all of this (I was like barely ten) but it never prevented him from trying to play with me, sharing his hobbies, going on a walk, and else.

He was there emotionally and, as a kid who was bullied, had no friends at all, and a mother who didn't give a damn, I cherished this relationship.

I believe the exact same thing happened with Octavia, we never see her with friends or even outside the castle, she’s isolated. Stolas has Prince duties, we’ve seen him carry them in the shows, hence why he’s mostly absent leaving her with her mother. But, at least when she was a kid, he tried to do stuff bringing her to Loo-Loo Land or being the one to comfort her. That is why she clings to her father, he’s the only one who actually shows her love and she’s terrified of losing that.

Regarding her mother, Stella obliviously doesn't care about her so the feeling is reciprocated. From a narrative standpoint, Stella is an unpredictable force of nature getting angry for pretty much anything that doesn't go her way. So Octativa learned to not cross her mother's path.

I know this expression, this is the “Oh fuck… they’re at it again?” she’s used to her mother's constant screaming, she's used to her parents fighting.

She did say they were a time when a parent didn't hate each other, which to me refers to the time when Stolas tanked Stella’s abuse. But, that doesn’t mean that Stella wasn't abusing him in front of a younger Octavia, she’s erratic and they did imply that she can get physical in her toxic behavior. Since Stella was passive, it was probably mostly harmful comments.

Putting personal things here, my mom was also very abusive to my older sibling. Since I was extremely young I learned not to ‘be a burden’ to avoid being abused as well, which includes things like not talking to her unless she does it first. Whether Octavia is aware of the physical abuse or not, she must know enough to know that it’s a bad idea to annoy Stella.

This is the only picture where we see her seemingly having a good relationship with Stolas, which to me feels like she’s faking it considering all we know about the family.

She has a pretty shitty household but her relationship with her father make it bearable until Stolas did a 180°

He randomly started to prioritize Blitz and don’t spill me the bullshit of ‘he’s trying’ he stopped trying long ago.

Let’s analyze this episode by episode:

In Loo Loo Land, Stolas seemingly tries to rebuild a visibly strained relationship with his daughter by bringing her to a park she liked when she was a kid. To this, she immediately responds with an “I’m not 5 anymore.” and an “I rather kill myself.” There’s no room for miscommunication, she doesn't want to go there, and she won’t enjoy it as much as she did back then. Still, he decides to go there, showing that he doesn't listen, and, he brings the one the thing that is currently ruining his already horrible marriage because of his own actions. Blitzø.

He’s trying to spend time with his daughter after a long time (this is mentioned in the episode) and he decides to bring in that one guy he’s hooking up with to deliberately make sexual remarks about him in front of her.

She’s uncomfortable the whole time, not just because she allegedly doesn’t like listening to her father's comments but because she doesn't like the park. She said it, yet Stolas doesn't acknowledge it, he doesn't realize the faces she makes which are to me pretty communicative of her annoyance and discomfort.

This is not even subtle body language, yet he only notices it when she runs off. The worst part is that he still finds a way to think about Blitzø when his daughter leaves.

He looked upset that Blitzø didn't follow him! Did he expect that guy to pursue him constantly? He was in the middle of an argument with his daughter, I personally would have stepped away to give them space to talk and reconcile. But no, apparently Blitzø should be at his beck and call all the time.

But you know what, after all of this. He still apologized. That absolutely does not negate everything he did during the day but, at the end of it, he finally listened to her and even brought her to a place she actually wanted to be. Which is good, he acknowledged her discomfort and did something she liked.

Until Seeing Star.

Look I know Stolas was busy with Stella but he clearly doesn't care about her and her stuff.

Don’t tell me he couldn’t pinpoint Stella’s location with magic and teleport all of her belongings to her. Their discussion was barely about the furniture, he could have said that they were gonna be delivered and hung up the second he saw Octavia. Arguing with Stella is pointless, he’s the number one guy that should know that! Why does he continue to insult her, he’s just fuelling the fire!

Moving out her belongings would have been 10 times faster if he just hung up the phone, then he could have had a more mindful talk with Octavia without the constant bickering of his ex-wife.

But he didn't for some reason, fair enough, I guess. The writers do whatever they want. Anyway, Octavia got angry and ran to go see the stars on her own.

So, Stolas’ castle is in Pride but my point still stands, Octavia had the time to run from home and make the way all from her father's place to the city, find the specific building Blitzø held his organization in and Stolas didn't notice a thing.

You cannot tell me Stella managed to get his attention for that long AND you cannot tell me that his castle is close to the shitty disaffected building and the populace. His daughter ran off and he did not notice a thing.

Not only that but he has the nerve of blaming Blitzø for not watching the book. Like, dude! You should have watched your daughter instead!

Then he spills out more bullshit.

I don’t know Stolas, how could you possibly find her when you were shown to have countless abilities to do so?

Like bubbles projecting the image and locations of people.

Or that on time when you possessed corpses and one woman just to go full eldritch monstrosity just for one that one guy you’re cheating your wife with. And don’t whine about “They don’t love each other.” it’s still affecting his family, mainly his daughter so it’s still bad.

Of course, you do all of that without your grimoire without any problem, brushing it off with a…

I guess he forgot his ‘ways’ when it came to Octavia. But honestly, Loona literally found her easily just by looking at her Instagram account, couldn't he just call her or something? The girl had her phone the whole time and he didn't just think of calling her.

Me when I forget that I have teleportation power when I am in an enclosed space with nobody is looking.

You’re certainly not worrying right now. Via literally told him to his face that she was scared and he kept flirting with him even though he once again caused her to run away because of his neglect.

He’s not trying his best, THIS IS NOT TRYING!

No Loona, his daughter communicated very clearly issues related to their relationship, rather than reassuring her and being there for her as much as it’s realistically possible (he still has duties to carry), he gets in an avoidable petty fight with his ex and keeps an unhealthy dynamics with an imp he's been obsessing over. He doesn't focus, his priorities aren’t straight, and now Octavia feels abandoned.

I did mention that I had a good relationship with my father back then, but it stopped abruptly. His focus changed and he went out with friends after work and gradually stopped spending time with me. Until we never spent time together again, (to give you an idea the only moment where I could see him was in the morning for breakfast) now that can sound silly but I was a child, with no friends and a neglectful mom, losing the only good thing I had in life broke me. I knew his schedule, I knew he was spending time with work buddies and that just stung my self-esteem even more leaving me feeling like a burden when I was just a kid who wanted to feel love.

This is why I don’t like the “He’s trying.” I know what a trying struggling parent looks like and I know what happens when they stop. If you keep trying to do something and you’re constantly failing, either your technique isn’t the right one or you’re not and you’re convincing yourself you are.

And then there are people that’ll tell me that “He lived through the abuse of Stella for years for her.”

If you read all of this then I don’t feel like I need to explain how Octavia was at least partially exposed to Stella's toxic behavior and was affected by it.

For those who don’t know how it feels to live with an erratic mood-swinging person, it’s pure constant stress. You have to think constantly before you talk or move because you know that if you fuck up you’re gonna pay the price. And if you still eventually mess up you can never know with these types of people! You can’t defend yourself because the punishment will be far worse. You are ALWAYS in the wrong.

So he lived through the abuse of Stella just so his daughter could get neglected and abused in a less physical way?

The difference between my parents and Octavia is that they love each other. Stolas doesn't give a damn about Stella, he did say he was nice at first because he empathized with her they were in this shitty situation together, and fine, it's reasonable. But she never changed! Stella stayed the same! Why didn’t he leave her when he stopped carrying about her?! There’s no trauma bounding, Stella isn’t guilt-tripping or manipulating him, they got the child he could have divorced her easily without consequences! If anything, she’s the losing part of this divorce she’s lower in the hierarchy! “Andreaphul will get angry.” HE’S A MARQUIS! Hierarchically speaking Stolas is far more important and he mopes the floor with his peacock ass!

Am I supposed to be empathetic with that one dude who willingly let his daughter grow up in a hyper-toxic environment with an emotionally neglectful and unpredictable wife?! Am I supposed to believe he cares when he kept sleeping in his house in his bed with the same guy his daughter clearly is worried he’s going to leave her with?! Really?!

Don’t ever tell me that this is trying.

[almostfoxglove]

AIN'T THAT A BITE

written for @studioghibelli's writing challenge

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV), The Last of Us (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Central Characters: Reader, Young!Joel, Sarah

Central Relationship: Joel / Reader

Word Count: 6k

Pre-Outbreak & No-Outbreak AU

SUMMARY

It's the night of Jackson High's Sock Hop, the 8th grade dance which took you weeks to organize, and everything seems determined to go wrong. Thankfully, one student's dad—the handsome and brooding Joel Miller—comes to your rescue. READ ON AO3, if that's your jam!

Four weeks ago, volunteering to organize the eighth-grade dance committee had seemed like an excellent idea—a chance to make a solid first impression on the PTA and the chilly cast of your new colleagues while giving yourself a little excitement, some frivolous living beyond the usual boredom of your repetitive existence. Lesson plan, grade, report card, lesson plan, grade, report card—you love your job, but it gets old.

But now, on the night of Jackson High’s September Sock Hop, you know you’ve made a terrible mistake. Someone brought cookies with walnuts that had to be ceremoniously tossed, one of the speakers in the gym is crackling, three of your parent chaperones have bailed, and oh, yes—a sink in the girls’ bathroom has decided to spring a sudden leak and flood the place a mere fifteen minutes before the kids are due to show up.

Drenched and sweating, you make a hopeless attempt to mop the flood of water with the gym’s supply of linens, turning the tiled floor into a swamp of soggy towels that squelch beneath your shoes. It’s all a futile effort—the burst pipe beneath the far left sink is spewing water faster than the towels can sponge—but here you are, trying anyway, looking like you’ve just taken a long walk in a fucking monsoon. 

A row of square mirrors sits framed above each ceramic sink, taunting you with your reflection. Your red poodle skirt has gone burgundy with water and your once pristine white button-up clings to your chest, translucent, peek-a-booing your bra. 

Real professional. 

“Miss Green?” comes a voice on the other side of the door, followed by a weary knock. “Believe students are arriving now.”

With a sigh, you take a final glare at your reflection as if looking again might fix things, then call out, “Alright,” with as much patience as you have left to muster. Outside the calculus teacher is waiting in his pin-stripe vest with a sorry grimace. He agrees to lock up that bathroom from use and with a tired thank you you click down the hall towards the school doors, stomach raw with nerves.

As promised the first, eager attendees stand outside Jackson High’s wide glass doors, giddy to be let in for the night’s event. Kids are in everything from pastel poodle skirts to leather jackets and waitress get-ups—you even spot the Broderick twins in matching, vintage baseball uniforms striped with strawberry red. Behind them stand their parents, some smiling and others bleary-eyed, who you force yourself to smile cheerfully for as you let them in, a clipboard held over your chest to hide your bra.

You don’t miss how the parents stare at you—soaking wet and clearly befuddled—and you mutter your apologies as they shuffle into the school. All but the main hall has been blocked off, leaving the children a one-way path to the gymnasium for the dance. You check your watch quickly; maybe you can sneak in a quick smoke around the corner before the rest of the eighth graders arrive.

Outside the air is perfect: your one reprieve. Blue-dark clouds haunt the star-pocked sky and the balmy remains of the dying summer sweep through the parking lot as a breeze. You breathe easily for the first time in an hour, lift your face, and close your eyes, stitching yourself together in the calm. 

When you’re steady again, you decide against the smoke break. Too many parents pulling up in shiny cars with the kids. It’s enough to feel them in your skirt pocket—an escape hatch when you need them, a totem when you don’t. A nasty habit, your mother always says. But you only allow yourself two cigarettes a year. Not so bad, as habits go.

You’re about to turn back in and see if you can’t call a plumber at this hour when a pickup groans into the lot—steely-blue, bold text stickered on the side. It pulls not into a parking spot but the drop-off zone, right in front of you.

Miller Construction Ltd.

Maybe miracles are real after all.

As the passenger window rolls down and the cab light blinks on inside, you rush over, desperation rocketing your heart around in your chest. A girl in a lilac poodle skirt blinks up at you from the passenger seat, eyes wide with surprise. She’s got her hair pulled back in two big, curly pigtails ribboned with bows, and looks adorable—exactly what you’d pictured when you took on the behemoth task of putting this whole stupid evening together—complete with a matching neck scarf and shiny black shoes. You give her what you hope is a friendly grin and start rambling.

“I am so sorry,” you say, before you bother looking at the driver. “But we’ve got a plumbing emergency and if there is any chance you might have a few minutes to take a look at it, you’d be a—”

Your sentence drops off as you at last hunch down to make eye contact with the man in the driver’s seat through the open window. Dark-eyed and frowning, all curls and scruffy beard and thick flannel shirt: your type to a T. In your pause his daughter stifles a chuckle, and you shake your head to restart your brain. Focus. Sinks to fix, floods to mop.

With a tight grin, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Would be a lifesaver if you could, I don’t know, take a look. Even if it’s just to tell me we’re fucked and need an emergency plumber. We had a bunch of parent chaperones bail last minute, so we’re a little short on hands.”

Now the kid snorts, giggling. Shit—your teacher-voice has slipped. 

You close your eyes, horrified. Seems there’ll be no end to your embarrassment today.

Sighing, you step back to open the passenger door so the girl can hop out. “If you promise not to tell any grown-ups I swore in front of you,” you tell her. “I’ll give you all As when you get to my class in a couple years.”

“Deal,” the girl says, grinning at you. “But I’d probably get an A anyway.”

Despite yourself, you smile—this time for real.

“You ain’t her teacher?” comes the driver’s voice. Deep and coarse, all Texan. When you glance back, he’s still frowning, eyes narrowed at you.

“Tenth grade English and History,” you say. 

“And you’re workin’ the eighth-grade dance,” he says.

You shrug. “I’m new. Thought it’d go over well if I came in eager and offered to plan the thing.”

He hmphs, expressionless, his skin golden under the overhead light, eyes glinting with amber. You’re almost glad the kid’s not in your class; parent-teacher interviews would be torture. Sitting across your desk from this man, forced to pretend you don’t want him to ruin you. 

Beside you on the sidewalk, the girl shoots her dad a daggered look and crosses her arms. “He’s free,” she says. “He can do it.”

“Sarah,” the man hisses. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snarks. “Do you suddenly have a social calendar I don’t know about?”

After a brief stare-down which Sarah seems to win, he huffs and mutters a cranky one second before pulling out of the drop-off zone to park. 

“I like your skirt,” Sarah says when he’s gone. Streetlamps have you both in a cloak of shadow, and the pale light radiating from the school’s front doors doesn’t quite reach this spot, but her inquisitive expression is unmissable in the dark. 

“It’s a little ruined,” you say sheepishly. “But I like yours.” 

Pleased, she gives you a little twirl, purple fabric blooming from her waist. “Thanks,” she says, when she stills again. “My dad sewed on the poodle.” 

Across the lot you hear the harsh slam of a car door cracking shut and spot her glowering father stalk across the asphalt, silhouetted by a distant streetlight, his shoulders unfairly broad. You nod toward the front doors. You’d never admit it to anyone, but the thought of this surly figure lovingly stitching a felt poodle to his daughter’s costume makes you a little weak in the knees.

“You can go on in,” you tell Sarah, and she waves at her dad before running inside.

Then he’s walking up the pavement, growing closer. Of course he smells good—like patchouli and something earthy and skin. Of course he’s rolled up his sleeves, baring his tanned forearms, one tensed by the toolbox clutched in his hand. You manage a stiff grin as he approaches, no teeth, to which you receive only a curt nod in reply. 

In silence, you walk him through the glassy doors, heels clicking as swing music crackles from the gymnasium some distance away. You catch, in the corner of your eye, the shape of his head turning as he watches Sarah running full-speed down the main hall to catch up with a group of girls that must be her friends. She launches herself at them, and even at this distance you hear the shrill of their joy, the sugar-high laughter, and smile to yourself.

“She’s sweet,” you say, guiding him into a branching hallway, away from the main event.

He grunts, then mumbles, “Pain in my ass is what she is.”

You chuckle. When you dare to look back at him again, you see his begrudging tone doesn’t match his expression. You swear his eyes flit quickly away as if you’ve caught him already looking at you. Hard to be sure, you think, in this dimmer light. But his cheeks almost look pink.

After a beat too long, you realize why.

You’ve dropped your clipboard to your side without thinking, unveiling your water-logged shirt, which clings sheerly to your skin. Grimacing, you cover yourself again. “Not much of a plumber,” you say quietly.

Once you’ve grabbed the keys back from your colleague, you drag this poor, probably busy dad to the girls’ bathroom and unlock the door, glancing down at his boots before you open it. “You don’t love those shoes, do you?” you ask.

His eyebrows lift, jaw tensing. “Sure they’ll be fine, darlin’,” he grunts.

You push into the bathroom before your brain has the chance to recover from darlin’. You’ve been in Texas all of six months and you still aren’t used to the pet names. Everyone here seems to call each other everything. Even the old woman who works the till at the grocer by your apartment calls you honey or angel, and you wouldn’t exactly describe her as the friendly type. Darlin’ isn’t even irregular. Bus drivers call you that. 

Difference here is that it’s this man saying it—which is to say, someone gorgeous with a voice that could melt you if you let yourself listen close enough. Your heart purrs, thrilled.

The bathroom is a calamity. Though the drains in the center of the tiled floor have meant no water has flooded into the hallway, there’s still an inch or so blanketing the tiles wall to wall. Under one of the mirrors, the guilty sink continues to spew: a graceful font of silver gushing from a fault in the pipe.

Over your shoulder you hear Sarah’s dad clear his throat before you step out of his way.

Fearless, he trudges through the mess unfazed, dodging the tides of boggy towels like this is the most natural habitat to find himself in. His boots and the ankles of his jeans blacken with water, and though you’re in some stupid, clacky pair of heels to go with your outfit, you follow him into the shallows anyway, riddled with shame. At the slosh of your footsteps behind him, Sarah’s dad turns to give you a cutting stare you cannot read and you freeze, caught.

“What?” you say.

“No reason you gotta be in here for this,” he says. “Might be wise to dry off a little, don’t you think?”

Does the corner of his mouth twitch upward, or do you imagine it—you can’t decide. “Right,” you manage. “Sorry. Thank you, seriously.”

You pivot to leave him to it, splashing weakly as you go, your skirt bunched in one hand to keep it safe from the splatter. In the doorway you can’t help but look back, and see him kneeling in the mess, tool in hand, his toolbox open and shelved on a not-broken sink. He spots you looking and this time, you don’t imagine it. He lets slip half a grin. 

“Got it from here,” he says.

You nod but don’t move and you don’t know why.

Well, that’s not true. You do.

Sarah’s dad cocks one dark eyebrow at you, bemused, maybe, by your hesitation. “You really have chaperones bail?” he asks, voice low.

“Three,” you say.

He grunts, then turns his attention back to the spitting sink, and you step out into the dim hallway without goodbye.

You slip into the bathrooms in the teacher’s lounge to stand under the hand dryer for a bit, letting your shirt dry out. When it’s no longer see-through, you stand in front of the long mirrors looking at yourself, fussing. You retouch your lipstick—red, like your skirt, like your nails—though the hair’s a lost cause. The best you can do is run a hand through the end bits and say an empty prayer.

Then, finally, you emerge, and take off with a sidelong glance thrown at the closed door of the flooded girls’ bathroom as you pass.

You volunteered four weeks ago, and you spent three of those weeks working on the decorations in tiny pockets of time between the school day, your commute home, and all the hours you spend every evening and weekend on lesson plans and marking. Maybe it’s only September, but the whole staff has been working since August and it’s no slower now than it will be in the spring. Still, you gave up sleep. Gave up seeing friends. Gave up proper, home-cooked meals and reverted to the habits of your college days, eating boxed mac and cheese straight from the pot over the stove. 

Now, it all pays off. 

The gymnasium’s a goddamn ritz. Ribbons of twinkle lights droop from the rafters, sparkling above the scatter of a disco ball. You thrifted huge, vintage neon signs—with your own money, thanks so much public school district—that cast pools of candy-colored light on the shiny floor. Gingham tablecloths sheath the drink stands. You had to bribe the theater department to let you repurpose an old bartop set from some long-gone play. Painted that sucker with black and white checkers, even scrounged up some round, pleather bar stools to match. Instead of a bar-bar, it’s a snack bar—pastel cupcakes and dairy-free milkshakes and huge metal bowls of nut-free, everything-free snack mixes displayed behind the bar. Kids all get three snack tickets ‘cause the PTA had strong feelings about sugar intake, but hey. All the bar stools are full; the kids seem to love it.

Despite the last-minute disasters, you’re tempted to cry with relief. Slept three hours last night, painting the last of the stars that hang overhead, but they look like magic now. Glossy and twinkling while Elvis plays. It looks pretty close to perfect. And the kids, by some miracle, are dancing. The gym teacher comes out to show them some simple swing steps, and as clumsy as they all are, it’s fucking adorable.

“Hope you’re willing to do this for all the dances,” one teacher mutters to you as you pass. 

You flit from table to table, refilling and wiping down and checking in with chaperones—twenty minutes zing by in the blink of an eye. When the gymnasium door creaks quietly open, the dark shape of Sarah’s dad appears in the doorway. You set down your punch glass with a grin and scurry over. 

But he’s looking up when you make it to him, starstruck by twinkle lights, his face pink and blue with the neon light. Christ, he’s easy on the eyes. Facing this way, with none of the gym or kids or decorations in view, you can almost imagine that you’re standing in a bar looking up at some handsome stranger you might have a shot in hell at taking home. 

“Everything okay?” you ask, when he still hasn’t looked down, his hand flat and broad on the door to prop it open.

He blinks, wakes from his daze, and the look of wonder that just now softened him fades, his face stiff again. You step into the hall and the door slides shut behind you. The honeyed voices of The Isley Brothers muffle.

In the direct light of the hallway you can see he’s soaked—jeans wet to the tops of his thighs, his whole flannel clinging to his chest. One curl lays flat and damp against his forehead. He would’ve had to kneel right in the spray to work on the sink. Might as well have set a hose on the poor man.

Jesus, you must have ruined this guy’s whole fucking night. 

“Oh my god,” you say, eyes wide with horror. “I am so sorry—”

He lifts one hand as if to say stop and your mouth snaps shut. “Just water,” he grumbles. “Sink’s fine now. Joint was old and brittle. Had a part in the truck that’ll hold you over till Monday, but you’ll need someone to do a proper repair next week.”

You run a hand over your face, so grateful to him that all logical thought and processing flutters right out of your head. “Jesus, I could kiss you—thank you so much, seriously,” you start to say, hand still over your eyes as you stutter to a halt, realizing your mistake.

Heat boils in your face as you split your fingers to peek at him through your hand, but he doesn’t look horrified. He just rolls his eyes, a little playfully you think, and shakes his head like you’re being ridiculous. “Not necessary,” he says. 

You let your hand drop. “I’d insist that I’m normally the epitome of professionalism, but there’s no way in hell it’d be convincing,” you say, grinning sheepishly. 

Shrugging, he remains silent. Maybe you should take your friends up on their offers to set you up—you clearly need to get laid. Just him shrugging is doing things to you. Nevermind the tiny flick of his tongue that graces his bottom lip as he looks off down a roped-off hall. 

“Still short on chaperones?” he asks, not looking at you. 

“Yeah,” you admit. “But we’ll make due.”

Another shrug. “Could help out—‘m already here.”

Your eyes round. Though part of you wants to refuse, insist he’s done more than enough already, that he ought to get home and into dry clothes and forget about this mess, you don’t. It’s definitely selfish, almost greedy, but you don’t want him to go. Even if you only get to look at him across the gymnasium without saying another word to each other the whole rest of the night, you’d like him to stay.

A grin squirms across your face before you can stop it; you have to look away to smother it as you tap one foot against the floor. 

“Okay,” you say coolly, returning your gaze to him once you’ve gathered yourself. “But you can’t go in there looking like this.”

The theater department’s costume room gives you the creeps. Has since the first day you stepped foot in this place back in August when you got the grand tour—anywhere with this many mannequins is cursed, frankly—and it turns out it’s even worse in the dark. When you swing open the door, pale light from the hall slants against the black floor, and you reach blindly across the wall for the switch as your heart patters with dread.

Then finally: light. Weak, stuttering, yellow, but light all the same. You breathe.

Regardless, stepping into the costume room feels like being squeezed. Cramped alleyways have been formed by clothing racks stuffed well past their capacity—gowns of past Shakespeare productions hang beside the gothic frocks of Morticia and Wednesday Addams—forcing you to inch between racks, grazed by a parade of empty sleeves.

Sarah’s dad, bless him, hardly fits at all, and has to shuffle through the aisles sideways to follow you on what must seem to him like a blind mission without any destination. 

But you’ve been in this place. You know exactly what you’re looking for. Turning a corner, the next section is too narrow for the man to fit through, so you point out a chair across the room by the mirror and tell him to wait. 

“And you can ditch the flannel,” you call out as he goes. “Can hang it over the heaters to dry.”

Though you hear the low thunder of him mumbling, you miss the words.

When you emerge from the dusty racks, unnerved by the looming, half-dressed mannequins standing guard over their lot, Sarah’s dad is sitting where you asked him to wait, stripped out of his flannel, left in a slightly damp white t-shirt, his shoulder blades faintly visible in the stuttering light. If him shrugging was doing something to you earlier—this is likely to kill you. 

You clear your throat as you approach and he quickly straightens his posture. When you’re close enough, you hold out the hangers to him, even give them a little shake when he cuts his eyes at you, doubtful. You roll your own in reply. “Come on,” you insist. “Sarah will love it.”

That gets him to stand, albeit with a scowl, but it still makes you grin. With a grumpy hmph, he takes the hangers from you and you duck between racks again to give him some privacy. Sure, maybe you’d like a peek as he strips off those wet jeans, but even you know better than that. So you stand in the disordered aisle of costumes and listen instead. 

For a long time you hear nothing, like he’s hesitating. You did have to guess the sizes, but you worked plenty of retail jobs in your early twenties. Aren’t so bad at guessing. Every breath in this room, now that you’re silent, feels agonizingly loud. Not just yours, but his. The swelling of his chest with air. 

Then finally—clink. A belt buckle slacking open. Your eyes slam shut even though you’re looking in the opposite direction, at some 60s-style dress from what must’ve been an old Hairspray production with construction paper polka dots duct-taped on. He lets out a soft grunt. There’s a shuffle of fabric. Then a wet slop as his jeans hit the floor.

Your whole body throbs with heady, certain want.

Yes, you definitely need to get laid. This is humiliating. 

When you hear the belt buckle’s metal clink again, signaling he’s got the new, dry jeans on, you feel it’s safe to speak again. “I never asked you your name,” you say, still staring at the costumes. You hear him set the next hanger on the chair and even though putting it on requires no further undressing, you’ll stay exactly where you are until he’s done. Don’t trust yourself not to leer.

More shuffling, this time of sturdier fabric. “Joel,” he gruffs, and after a pause adds bitterly, “I look ridiculous.”

Chuckling, you squeeze out of the aisles and find him standing before the full-length mirror wedged in the corner of the room, into which Joel is sneering at his reflection. 

Also, he’s dead fucking wrong.

The jeans are a little tight, but frankly they’re better this way. His thighs taut beneath denim, his calves hugged. He’s a little bow-legged. So Texan. From the waist down he might as well be a cowboy. From the waist up, however, he looks like he’s just strutted off the set of Grease, putting even 1978’s Travolta to shame. His white t-shirt sits crisply beneath the black leather jacket, which he snaps to adjust the lapels. Fits him perfectly, like it was made for those shoulders, and he’s raked back his wet hair, giving it the look of being gelled, one stray curl rebelling over his forehead.

He catches your eye in the mirror, mouth twitching again, but it doesn’t become a grin or a frown. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Don’t know what you’re looking at,” you say. “But you do not look ridiculous from where I’m standing.”

His nose scrunches as he breaks his eyes from yours in the reflection, ducking his head to rub the back of his neck. Seriously, you’d crawl all over this guy if he weren’t the dad of one of your students. Future students—whatever. But you’ll save yourself the humiliation, gotta get this show on the road, and so you jut your chin in the direction of the door. “Let’s go. Got kids to supervise, hands to keep from wandering.”

Joel balks, hands flat to fists in an instant, ready to kill.

“Oh please,” you tease, and wave one hand dismissively as you make your way to the door. “Like you weren’t thirteen once.”

You listen as he stomps after you, muttering a cranky, “Gonna have to be at all these fuckin’ things,” that makes your head fall back with a sudden laugh.

The moment you return to the gymnasium, you’re needed by everyone—so and so needs to know where the extra ice is; what’s-her-face is concerned about the sugar content of the fruit punch; and some parent wants to talk about their kids’ English grade like this is the appropriate venue for such a conversation. You immediately lose Joel to the call of teacher-slash-host duties, and he slips past you, hugging the wall as he strides over to man the drink table which, in your absence, has stood without supervision. The man might as well be a saint—you manage to catch his eye and mouth a silent thank you across the gym, to which he half-grins from a pool of neon pink glow, setting you ablaze.

Most of the night you spend running around like a madwoman, responsible for switching in new music as each CD ends, refilling snack bowls, and pulling one student off another when you catch them kissing in the hall. Thankfully neither of them is Sarah, but you do have to give the kids a talking-to.

Late in the night, you’re chatting to some of your colleagues against the gymnasium wall and watching the kids shimmy to Rock Around the Clock, poodle skirts billowing like spinning tops, when you spot Sarah rush across the floor toward Joel—apparently only spotting him now. You’re too far to hear them, too far to read their lips, but Sarah’s runaway smile is obvious at any distance. She hops in place, delighted, and forces Joel to do a little spin for her. 

Though smaller, you catch his smile too. The dimple in his cheek as he fails to restrain his contentment at her approval. How he shakes his head, embarrassed to be fawned over. Adorable.

When the Spanish teacher makes his rounds with the school’s camera, snapping flash photos of the kids’ eager smiles and costumes as they pose with their milkshakes or friends, you tap him on the shoulder and point in Joel and Sarah’s direction. “Get one of them, would you?” you whisper, and he nods, shuffling off.

Joel spots him coming a mile off, camera in hand, and immediately frowns. He makes eye contact with you across the gymnasium like he knew exactly where you were standing, and shakes his head as if to say no way. You smile, wicked, and mouth yes. One of his hands balls to a fist. 

But when Sarah spots the photographer a second later, she wraps an arm around Joel’s waist to pose and his resistance crumbles. When you were thirteen, you’d have been humiliated to be seen posing with your parents in front of your classmates, but Sarah doesn’t seem to mind at all. Her adoration is obvious, abundant. Anyone can see how much she loves him—you can see, too, Joel’s love for her. Once the Spanish teacher raises the camera to shoot, he throws his arm around Sarah’s shoulders, looking down at her with a soft, grump-less grin. The white flash snaps in the dark gymnasium, photo taken, then Sarah returns to her friends.

You cut your eyes away when he starts to turn his head in your direction, returning your gaze to your colleague. Don’t need him catching you staring. Your dignity has suffered plenty tonight.

You cave about twenty minutes before parents are due to pick up the kids at the end of the night—not due to stress, just exhaustion—and sneak out into the black night to smoke. Tucked just out of view of the parking lot and doors, you sink onto a wooden bench and light up, letting the tension unwind from your body. Gray smoke tendrils as you exhale a half-formed smoke ring. Never could get those right, but it’s fun to try while crickets croak unseen from the shadows, braiding their eerie melody. With every drag, you relax into a kind of trance, at one with the night. 

Eyes shut, you don’t hear him coming. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your eyes snap open and you realize someone’s caught you smoking.

“Shit,” you mutter, adjusting your posture to sit up straight.

Joel stands over the bench, caliginous in the dark. His hair has dried, curls loosening from each other. You hear a low chuckle that must come from him, but you can’t quite make out his face until he lowers himself onto the bench beside you—then you see he’s smirking. 

You tap ash onto the sidewalk beside your feet, away from him, unable to look him in the eye. “Not worth trying to defend myself, is it?” you joke sheepishly.

He adjusts his position, thighs spread just a touch, and crosses his arms over his chest. The leather jacket is practically criminal, it fits him so well. 

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies. “Don’t need to.”

You bring the cigarette to your lips to smother your impulse to smile, the filter stained crimson by your lipstick. You risk a glance at him. “You want one?”

Shaking his head, the corner of Joel’s mouth tugs. “Quit when Sarah came around,” he admits.

“Very responsible,” you say, and though you really shouldn’t flirt, it comes out a little snarky, like you’re teasing him. “Quit after college, but I get to indulge twice a year.”

Joel quirks an eyebrow at you, though doesn’t question the obvious flaw in your logic. “Miss it?” he asks.

You shrug and exhale a thin stream of smoke from the corner of your mouth. “Always think I do,” you say. “But it’s so much grosser than I remember. Can’t believe I used to smoke these everyday.”

He lets out a deep hmph, not quite a laugh. 

“I’m serious,” you say, grinning now. “These things are vile. They reek and make kissing gross. I might as well burn the clothes I’m wearing after this. Don’t even like it anymore—it’s just nostalgia, I think.”

Shifting again, Joel’s legs spread a little wider, though from the other side of the bench you’re still nowhere near touching. As you click one lacquered nail against your cigarette, ash rains softly to the ground. 

“Never minded,” he mumbles. He’s looking out at the dim street, not you. Streetlamps dot the street with coins of gold between cedar elms that have already begun to drain their color. The breeze is next to perfect, whisking your smoke politely away from Joel.

“Minded what?”

“Kissin’ someone who smokes,” he says matter-of-factly. His tone isn’t flirtatious—nor is his expression, his face still profiled to you—but goosebumps scale your arms all the same.

“Hm,” you hum in reply. 

Best not to dwell in this breath of quiet. The long pause in which you feel yourself want. You shift on the bench, cross your legs, and prepare to change the subject—but Joel beats you to it. 

“Looks good in there,” his voice rumbles, and in your periphery, he turns to look at you for just a moment, handsome and leather-clad. Practically put on this earth to punish you. You hold your breath until he turns his head away again. “Impressive.”

Your heart squeezes like he’s crushed it in his fist, but you tilt your head back and forth nonchalantly. “Guess it doesn’t look so bad,” you admit. To your surprise, this drags a quiet chuckle from Joel, and your eyes drop quickly to his hand where it hangs from his still-crossed arms—a brief and discreet glance, you think—and see no ring. It shouldn’t make a difference, but you're glad.

“Gotta be more subtle than that, darlin’,” Joel mumbles, despite the fact that he’s not looking at you.

You feel your face rash with heat. “Fucking eagle eyes,” you mutter, pinching the last of the cigarette to your lips for a final drag. You hold the smoke in your lungs as Joel laughs again, this time with more warmth.

He shakes his head. “Could’a just asked,” he says.

“You’re not even looking at me,” you say, smiling despite your embarrassment. You bend over to crush your cigarette against the bottom of your shoe, then pocket the spent filter, disappearing the evidence. “How the hell did you even catch that.” It isn’t so much a question as it is a whine. 

Joel shrugs. “Don’t have to be looking at you to be watchin’,” he says.

You can’t decide if you’re glad or disappointed that the moment you both look at each other, the whole of his face finally visible in the murk of nightfall—warm eyes, summer skin, that stubbly beard you’d like to nuzzle into—a caw of noise erupts inside the school and shatters the moment. The sound of students emerging from the gymnasium into the hall draws Joel’s attention first, and you allow yourself a long look at the back of his head to study his curls, just beginning to thread with gray, before you let the noise draw your attention, too.

“That’d be our cue,” you say, and you both rise from the bench.

As Joel starts shrugging off the leather jacket, you put a hand on his bicep to stop him and shake your head. So solid. Warm. He freezes under your touch, black leather slumped part-way down his arms, until you withdraw your hand. 

“Nu-uh,” you say. “You’re keeping that.”

He frowns. “Not sure I like the idea of stealin’ from Sarah’s school,” he says. 

You roll your eyes, wave one hand dismissively. “You saw where it came from, they’ll never miss it. There were at least half a dozen more in there.”

When Joel narrows his eyes at you, you narrow yours back stubbornly. Finally, he sighs and snaps the jacket back over his shoulders—a gesture that turns you to honey—and shoves one hand into the back pocket of his jeans. The also-stolen jeans. You’re gonna make him take those too. Not like anything that fits him is gonna fit any of the students here. You don’t even know why the theater department has costumes this size. 

“Least take this and sign me up for,” he gestures vaguely with one hand as he pulls something from his pocket and holds it out to you. “Whatever. More chaperonin’.”

Pinched between his fingers is a crisp business card bearing the same logo stickered to his truck. Miller Construction Ltd—Joel Miller, Co-Owner. His phone number is printed squarely at the bottom. You take it, running your thumb across the printed text. 

“Very generous,” you tease, and Joel looks down at you and grins, one dimple creasing his cheek. When you smile in return, his dark eyes slip down your face, landing on your lips.

As you make your way back up the path to the school, he walks close enough that his arm brushes against yours just once. Your body purrs with want, made worse when he smirks and leans toward you, lowering his voice. “Trust me,” he rumbles quietly. “Offer’s entirely selfish.”

Then, entirely composed, Joel yanks the front door open for you and winks.

Moodboard created by @studioghibelli!

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: Hotch and Y/N give up and explore their feelings for each other.

Warnings: 🔞‼️ new relationship, mentioned George Foyet, mentioned Haley Hotchner, scars talk, fluff moments, friends to lovers, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, memories, military backstory, family loss, comfort, idiots in love.

Words count: 6,411k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Something new pt.2

Read part 1 here

Confessions

The car ride home was silent. His hand gripped firmly her tight, afraid that was just a dream. Her fingertips drew small circles on his forearms, over his evident veins. The longing from the past weeks mixed with the anticipation of what would come.

As soon as they were inside his house, the door barely closed behind them, they were on each other again. Aaron backed her up against the wall, his hands framing her face as he kissed her with a hunger that took her breath away. Y/N responded with equal fervor, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she pulled him closer.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. “I want you.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. “Then take me, Aaron,” she whispered

His fingers gently brushed her cheek. “This might be the worst decision we ever make,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Or the best,” she countered, her own smile mirroring his.

His lips attached to hers again. Hotch’s hands moved down her body, over her curves. Her hands wrapped around his neck to pull him closer, to feel his body impossibly closer to her. His semi-hard cock was pressed against her stomach, increasing her desire.

With an effortless move, Hotch picked her up without breaking the kiss and guided them into the bedroom. He laid her gently in the middle of the bed and climbed over to cover her body with his. His cock was pressed more to her body, causing a suffocating moan from her.

As his fingertips brushed against her sides, her hands moved down his back until they reached the hem of his t-shirt. She slowly pulled it over his back when something shifted inside Hotch. The fear and the memories hit him like a train.

“Wait” he stopped her and pulled apart, sitting on the bed and leaving a concerned Y/N lying on the mattress. “It’s not you. I-It’s…”

Foyet. Y/N felt a pang of sorrow as she realized what he was referring to. How could she forget that? All the pain he inflicted was still there. Hotch tried so hard to put a brave face on, for his team, for Jack, but sometimes when he was alone in his bed, and the night fell he found himself alone with his demons and the memories.

She sat beside him and cupped his face in her hands, looking into his watery eyes. “It doesn’t change anything, Hotch.” Y/N placed a tender kiss on his lips, a silent promise of understanding and support. “But I don’t wanna force you. We could just watch a movie or something.”

“No.” he said firmly, “I want this. I want you. I just hate that he still has some power over my life.”

Her heart swelled with affection for the man in front of her. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I’ve been there more times than I would like to admit.”

“How did you move on?”

“I didn’t. I just learned to live with it.” she gave him a sad smile while her hand caressed his cheeks. “I know you miss Haley, and I know you blame yourself for what happened but, Aaron, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could to save her and Jack. And you did. Jack is alive because of you.”

“But he will grow up without his mom because of me.”  His voice was low and broken.

“Foyet killed Haley not you. Jack never blamed you, you’re his hero. And I’m hundred percent sure you’ll do everything in your power to never let Jack forget his mom. You are a great dad, Aaron.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude and something else—something deeper. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Aaron leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss. This time, there was no urgency, no rush. They took their time, exploring each other, savoring the intimacy of the moment. Aaron's hands gently slid down her back, his touch feather-light, as if he was afraid to break the spell.

Y/N shifted to straddle him with their lips still attached. His body responded almost immediately, letting her feel how much he wanted her. Slowly, she reached for the hem of his shirt once again, her movements careful and deliberate. Hotch watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability.

As she lifted the fabric, revealing the scars that marked his torso, Y/N felt a wave of sadness and anger mixed with pride and admiration wash over her. A big part of her hated Foyet for what he had done, for the pain he had caused to both Hotch and Jack. But there was a part who admired Aaron for his strength, for his dedication to his son, for never giving up.

Aaron tensed slightly when her hand touched her chest, his eyes searching hers for any sign of disgust or pity. But all he saw was love and acceptance, a deep understanding that went beyond words.

"These scars," she said softly, tracing them with her fingertips, "they’re not a sigh of weakness, Aaron. You’re a survivor, you won.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. "Sometimes, I wish I could forget."

"I know," she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of his scars and everything they represented. He pulled her close, holding her head and capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Their kiss deepened, their bodies moving together in a slow, sensual rhythm. Aaron’s hands found the hem of her shirt, and he gently pulled it up, his fingers brushing against her skin. Y/N lifted her arms, allowing him to remove the shirt completely. He paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over her body, taking in every detail. His gaze fell on a big scar on her right side, his fingertips brushed over it while his curious look was locked with hers. With her hand tangled in his hair, she gave him a sympathetic smile.

“We all have them, but they don’t define us, Aaron. We’re so much more than that.”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Y/N smiled, her hands moving to his chest. “So are you, Aaron.”

The sincerity in her voice broke something inside him, and he felt tears sting his eyes. He had never allowed himself to be this vulnerable with anyone, but with Y/N, it felt right. It felt like he was finally home.

He pulled her down so that their faces were level, his hands framing her face as he captured her lips in a kiss that was filled with everything he couldn't put into words. It was a kiss that spoke of love, of gratitude, of the deep connection that had formed between them.

Y/N responded with equal fervor, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she poured her heart into the kiss. She could feel his love, his need, in the way he kissed her, and it only made her love him more.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to steady their racing hearts.

“Let me show you.” She whispered, her fingers brushing the hair from his forehead.

She pushed him lightly making him lie down on the mattress while still straddling him. Y/N bent down to kiss him tenderly as his hands traveled down her back, over her curves. Her kisses trailed down over his jawline, down his neck, and on his collarbone making him giggle.

Her hands moved slowly over his chest; she could feel his muscles tense under her soft touch. Her kisses went further down while she parted his legs to make room for her to stand in between. Her lips met the first scar and Hotch immediately tensed.  

“You okay?” she asked in a soft voice, looking at him searching for any sign of discomfort.

“Yeah. Just go slow, okay?” Hotch’s whispered, so quietly she barely heard him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Y/N continued to kiss each scar, worshipping every single inch of his marked chest. She wanted to show him how much she cared about him, that she didn’t care about the scars, and that she liked him for him. Not for his past, not for anything else. She wanted to show him he was worthy of love.

Y/N could feel the tension leaving his body, his muscles relaxing under her touch. His hands, tangled in her hair, began to release them as he relaxed. She climbed over him once again while kissing his neck. Lost in each other once again, Hotch took her sports bra off, throwing it somewhere across the room.

The tension and the fear were just memories. Desire was spreading in his body. In the heat of the moment, with a swift move, Hotch rolled them ending up on top of her. Her eyes widened in surprise and a gasp escaped her mouth. 

Her breasts rested in his strong hands while he sucked one nipple and massaged the other. His mouth left wet kisses all over her chest making her moan.

“Don’t leave me hickeys.” She whimpered

“Too late, baby.” He said as he left a red mark over her breast.

She hissed in frustration, but she just didn’t want to let him she liked it. He leaned to kiss her again, a searing kiss to explore each other.

His hands roamed her body, exploring the curves and lines that he had come to know so well. Y/N responded eagerly, her own hands tracing the muscles of his back, her fingers digging into his skin as she pulled him closer.

Their movements were slow and deliberate, each touch a silent affirmation of their feelings for each other. Aaron took his time, savoring every moment, every sound that escaped her lips. He wanted to memorize every inch of her, to make this moment last forever.

When his lips found the sensitive spot on her neck, Y/N let out a soft moan, her head tilting back to give him better access. Aaron smiled against her skin, pleased with her reaction as he continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, his hands caressing her sides.

"You're amazing," he whispered against her skin, his breath hot and teasing.

Y/N arched into him, her body craving more of his touch. "Aaron, please..."

He chuckled softly, his hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip. "Patience, Lieutenant."

But he couldn't deny her for long. The need between them was too strong, too overwhelming. He moved lower, kissing his way down her body, taking his time to appreciate every curve, every dip, and every rise.

He worshipped her scar like she did with his moment before. His kisses were gentle on her skin but made her tense at the first touch, but she quickly forgot it and savored the moment

When he reached her hips, he paused, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear.

"May I?" he asked, his voice deep with desire.

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as she felt him slowly pull the fabric down her legs. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Aaron discarded the last piece of clothing, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of her completely bare before him. He let out a slow breath, his hands caressing her thighs as he looked up at her with a mixture of awe and love.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with reverence.

She blushed at his words, her heart racing in her chest. "Aaron..."

He didn't give her a chance to respond. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, then another, and another, moving closer to her core with each kiss. Y/N's breath quickened, her hands gripping the sheets as she felt the heat of his breath against her most sensitive area.

When his lips finally made contact, she let out a soft cry, her body arching toward him as a surge of pleasure washed over her. The intensity of his touch, the way his tongue flicked and teased her, made her mind go blank with nothing but the sensation of him between her thighs.

Aaron was deliberate, almost reverent in the way he worshipped her body. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he explored her with his mouth. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle nip and suck, was designed to drive her closer to the edge, to make her lose herself in the pleasure he was giving her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with admiration as he continued his ministrations. "So perfect."

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, her body trembling as she struggled to keep her composure. Each movement of his mouth sent electric jolts through her, making it impossible to think, to do anything but feel. His praises whispered against her skin only heightened the overwhelming sensations.

"Aaron, please," she gasped, her voice trembling as the coil of tension inside her wound tighter and tighter, ready to snap. She was on the brink, teetering at the edge of release, and she needed him—needed this—more than anything.

Aaron hummed softly, the vibration against her most sensitive spot sending a jolt of pleasure through her. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes dark with desire and love. Without breaking eye contact, he intensified his efforts, his tongue moving faster and deeper

"Let go for me, Y/N," he urged softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I’ve got you."

His words, combined with the relentless pleasure he was giving her, were her undoing. With a sharp cry, Y/N’s body tensed, then shattered as the wave of her orgasm crashed over her. The world around her blurred as pleasure consumed her and her vision narrowed.

“Oh God, Aaron!”

Aaron didn’t stop, guiding her through the aftershocks with gentle licks and kisses, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was trembling beneath him. Only when she had relaxed completely did he move back up her body, pressing tender kisses to her abdomen, her chest, and finally, her lips.

"You’re incredible," he whispered against her lips, his voice thick with affection.

Y/N smiled, still dazed from the intensity of her release, but she wasn’t done with him yet. She cupped his head pushing him down gently to place a kiss on his lips, testing herself. One of her hands found its way between their bodies down to his pants.

"My turn," she whispered, her voice filled with playful determination as she massaged him over his pants.

Aaron groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding up her sides to rest on her hips, his touch possessive and tender. The feel of her bare skin against his, the heat of her body, ignited a fire in him that he could barely control.

As Y/N kissed him, she could feel him hardening under her touch. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, the rapid beat matching her own. The vulnerability he had shown her, the trust he had placed in her, only made her love him more.

When she felt him tense beneath her but didn’t stop her lips from trailing down his neck to his collarbone. She took her time, kissing every inch of his skin, savoring the taste of him, the way his breath hitched with every touch.

"Y/N," he gasped, his hands tightening on her hips as she continued her massage. The need in his voice, the raw desire, sent a thrill through her, spurring her on.

She smiled against his skin, enjoying the way he reacted to her touch, the way his body responded so eagerly to her. With a smirk on her face, she instructed him to stand allowing herself to have a magnificent view of his body.

As he stood between her legs, her fingertips traced patterns on his lower abdomen, over the waistband of his pants. She paused and looked up to him.

"May I?" she asked, echoing his earlier words, her voice soft and teasing.

Aaron’s breath caught in his throat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at her. The sight of her there, her eyes filled with desire and love, nearly undid him.

"Please," he breathed, his voice strained with need.

 With a smile, Y/N slowly pulled the fabric down, revealing the hard length of him. The sight of him, so ready for her, sent a wave of heat through her, and she couldn’t resist but took his cook in her hands and began moving up and down, slowly, agonizingly slowly.

Hotch let out a low groan, his head falling back. Feeling that vulnerable, so exposed was almost too much, yet he never felt so loved. Her words were sincere, her love was pure, and the look of admiration printed on her face was more than enough for him.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he tried to hold back, to give her time, but it was getting harder with every passing second. The need to be inside her, to feel her around him, was overwhelming.

Sensing his desperation, Y/N didn’t tease him further.  “I need you.”

He groaned softly at her words, But just as he was about to move forward, he hesitated, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt.

“Are you sure? Do I need to use protection?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with love and trust as she gazed up at him. “I’m sure. And no, I’m clean. I want to feel you.”

“I’m clean too.” He said in a serious tone. That was all the permission he needed and with his cock in hand he slowly pushed himself inside of her. They both groaned at the new feeling, Y/N gasped as the sensation of him stretching and filling her was more intense than she anticipated.

Aaron paused, giving her time to adjust, his breath coming in shallow pants as he fought to maintain control. The sensation of being inside her, of feeling her warmth envelop him, was almost too much to bear, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from losing himself too soon.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained with effort.

“More than okay,” she replied, her hands gripping his shoulders as she urged him to continue. “Please, Aaron…”

He slowly pushed deeper until he was fully seated inside her. They both let out a shaky breath at the sensation, their bodies perfectly aligned as they lay pressed together, skin to skin. The connection between them was palpable, a thread of intimacy that bound them together in a way that went far beyond the physical.

He began to move deliberately and slowly, wanting to feel every muscle of hers tightening around him. His thrusts were slow and deep, so deep she felt her eyes roll in her head. Her hands wrapped around him as her nails scratched his back.

Aaron rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing as he savored the moment, the feeling of finally being with the woman he wanted for so long. “You feel amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the man above her. “So do you,” she whispered back as she kissed him softly.

Aaron’s movements were deliberate and controlled, each thrust designed to bring her pleasure as he held her close, his hands caressing her body with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

Y/N’s breaths came in soft, gasping moans, her head tilting back as she lost herself in the sensations Aaron was creating. The pleasure built slowly, a steady heat that grew with each thrust, each caress of his hands. She could feel the tension built within her again, tighter and tighter as they moved together in perfect harmony.

“Aaron… I’m close…” she breathed out, her nails digging into his back as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

He responded by quickening his pace, his thrusts becoming deeper and more urgent as he pushed her closer to the edge. “Come for me, Y/N,” he whispered in her ear, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you.”

That was all it took. Y/N cried out as the tension snapped, her body shuddering beneath him as she was consumed by another wave of pleasure, even more intense than the first. Aaron groaned as he felt her tightening around him.

“Give me one more, baby.” He whispered in her ears.

He lifted himself up to have a better look at the view under him. Within seconds he was pounding into her once again, his hands gripped firmly her hips to pull her closer to him. His low groans were music to her ears and sent shivers through her spine.

“God, Y/N” a moan escaped his mouth.

His hand found its way to her clit, he started drawing small circles putting pressure with his thumb. A familiar feeling began to grow in her stomach, like a volcano ready to erupt. Y/N was failing at controlling her body, the pleasure was overwhelming, and her head felt dizzy.

He knew she was close; he could feel it around him. He could see the pleasure taking over her and a sense of pride washed over him.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” he ordered as his fingertips kept moving over her clit to add pleasure. The thrusts turned more precise hitting the same spot over and over. Her body trembled beneath him as a strong wave of pleasure hit her more intensely.

“Oh God!” she cried out in pleasure.

With a few more thrusts, he followed her over the edge, his body tensing as he spilled inside her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, they were both lost in the overwhelming sensations, their bodies trembling with the force of their release.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, Aaron collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they both struggled to catch their breath. Y/N nestled against him, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the rapid beating of his heart.

“That was…” he began breathlessly.

“Worth the wait.” She continued looking up at him.

“Definitely.”

They lay like that for a long time, the only sound in the room was their soft breaths. Y/N felt a deep sense of contentment settle over her, a warmth that spread through her entire body as she started to trace the lines of his scars, her fingertips brushing over them slightly feeling his muscles still tensing under her touch.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” Aaron’s fingers gently traced patterns on her back, his touch soothing and comforting as he held her close. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, her eyes closing as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Me neither,” she replied, her voice filled with contentment.

Aaron tightened his hold on her, his heart swelling with love for the woman in his arms. He had never imagined that he could feel this way again, that he could find someone who saw him, truly saw him, and loved him despite everything. But Y/N had done just that, and he knew without a doubt that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“It’s good to have you here,” he whispered, the words filled with all the emotion he couldn’t express any other way.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and affection. “It’s good to be here.”

He leaned down to kiss her, a slow, lingering kiss that conveyed everything he felt for her. When they finally pulled apart, they were both smiling, a quiet happiness settling over them as they lay together in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Eventually, sleep began to creep in, their eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day caught up with them. Y/N snuggled closer to Aaron, her body perfectly molded to his as they drifted off together, the warmth of his embrace lulling her into a peaceful slumber.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered kissing her forehead.

“Night, Aaron.” She mumbled half asleep.

*

Y/N woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains, the room bathed in a gentle golden glow. She stretched languidly, her muscles pleasantly sore from the night before. But as she turned to reach for Aaron, her hand met empty sheets, cool to the touch. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, she sat up, feeling a momentary pang of disappointment at his absence.

The room was quiet, the only sound was the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. Y/N’s gaze wandered around the space, taking in the simple, yet cozy surroundings of Aaron’s bedroom. The events of the night before came flooding back, a warm blush spreading across her cheeks as she remembered every tender moment, every whispered confession.

Pushing the covers aside, she slipped out of bed, her feet touching the cool floor. She spotted one of Aaron’s shirts draped over the back of a chair and couldn’t resist the urge to put it on. The fabric was soft, carrying his familiar scent, and it made her feel wrapped in his warmth, even though he wasn’t there beside her.

As she walked down the hallway, the smell of freshly brewed coffee reached her, and she smiled, her heart swelling with affection. When she entered the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat at the sight before her.

Aaron was standing by the stove, his back to her, wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxers. The early morning light highlighted the strong lines of his back, the curve of his shoulders, and the way his muscles moved subtly beneath his skin as he worked. His hair was slightly tousled, evidence of the night’s rest, and the sight of him so relaxed, so at ease in this moment, made her heart skip a beat.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, just watching him for a moment, the domesticity of the scene filling her with a sense of contentment she hadn’t known she was missing. It was such a simple thing, waking up to find the person you loved making breakfast, but in that moment, it felt like everything she’d ever wanted.

“Good morning,” she finally said, her voice soft but carrying across the quiet space.

Aaron turned at the sound of her voice, a smile immediately lighting up his face as he took in the sight of her standing there in his shirt, looking so effortlessly beautiful. “Good morning,” he replied, his voice warm and filled with affection. “I was just about to bring you breakfast in bed.”

She walked over to him, her bare feet making soft sounds on the tiled floor. “I like this better,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against his back.

Aaron’s hand covered hers, holding it against his stomach as he leaned back into her embrace. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of her. “You looked so peaceful.”

“I slept better than I have in a long time,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, a soothing rhythm that grounded her in the moment.

“I’m glad,” he said, turning around in her arms so that they were face to face. He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes soft as they met hers. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Y/N blushed, ducking her head slightly. “I could say the same about you.”

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm as it rumbled through his chest. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever called me beautiful before.”

“Well, get used to it,” she replied, her fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling his muscles under her fingertips. “Because I’ll remember you every time I can.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t try. Instead, he leaned down and captured her lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke of gratitude, love, and the deep connection they shared. Y/N melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer, savoring the warmth of his body against hers.

When they finally pulled apart, Aaron rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “I suppose I could get used to it,” he said softly, his hands resting on her hips, fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt that she wore.

Aaron smiled a contented, almost boyish smile that made her heart skip a beat. “How do you like your eggs?” he asked, nodding towards the stove where he had already started breakfast.

“Surprise me,” she said with a grin, not caring much about what he made as long as they were together.

Aaron nodded and turned back to the stove, one arm still wrapped around her waist as he resumed cooking. Y/N stayed close, her head resting against his shoulder as she watched him work, feeling a sense of peace that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

The sizzle of eggs in the pan, the smell of coffee brewing, the warmth of Aaron’s body against hers—everything about the moment was perfect. It was the kind of morning she had always dreamed of but had never quite believed she would have.

“Do you cook often?” she asked, her fingers tracing random patterns on his back as she looked up at him.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he admitted, glancing down at her with a small smile. “But I enjoy it when I can. It’s… therapeutic in a way.”

Y/N nodded, understanding completely. “I get that. There’s something calming about it.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for everything that had led them to this point. They had both been through so much—pain, loss, and heartache—but somehow, they had found their way to each other. And now, as they stood together in the soft morning light, she knew that this was where she was meant to be.

When breakfast was ready, Aaron turned off the stove and plated the food, sliding the plates onto the small kitchen table. Y/N poured them each a cup of coffee, and they sat down together, side by side, their legs brushing under the table.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the occasional smile or touch all that was needed to convey the deep connection between them. There was no need for words; everything that mattered was already understood.

After they finished eating, Aaron leaned back in his chair, watching Y/N as she sipped her coffee, her eyes closed in contentment. He couldn’t help but reach out, his hand brushing against her cheek, drawing her attention back to him.

“What?” she asked with a smile, setting her mug down as she turned to face him.

“Just…you,” he said, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “This was not how I wanted things to go. I wanted to ask you out, bring you flowers, and take you on a date. I don’t want a one-time thing, Y/N. not with you.”

“Neither do I, Aaron.” She reassured him, closing the gap between them to place a kiss on his lips. A silent promise that she meant every word.

The kiss turned more meaningful as he pulled her closer to him holding the back of her neck. The force he used to pull her closer made her get up and stand between his legs. His hands wrapped immediately around her waist. Her hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss, making him groan. When air became a need, they pulled apart, a smile spread on both their face.

“I’ll take you out, anyway.”

“I don’t complain.” She said smiling while caressing his cheeks. “Just promise me we won’t let the job get between us.”

“I promise. We’ll make it work.” He said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “Whatever it takes.”

As the morning continued in its soft, serene rhythm, Y/N stood by the window, gazing out at the peaceful suburban neighborhood and she found herself lost in the tranquility of the moment. A stark contrast to the chaos and danger that always defined her life, especially during her time in the Navy.

Aaron was tidying up the kitchen, the clinking of dishes and the soft hum of his movements providing a comforting backdrop. Y/N turned her gaze back to him, watching as he moved with an effortless grace, his presence filling the room with a sense of calm.

But as she watched him, she became acutely aware of the scar on her abdomen, of how Hotch avoided asking questions that she knew he had. All of sudden her mind drifted back to the day she had earned it and unconsciously started tracing the edge of it through Hotch’s shirt.

Aaron, ever perceptive, noticed her change in demeanor. He set down the dish he was drying and walked over to her, his brows furrowing with concern. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. “You okay?”

She looked up at him, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He didn’t push, but his eyes lingered on her face, studying her with a tenderness that made her heart ache. After a moment, his gaze dropped to where her hand rested on her abdomen, and immediately understood.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, not wanting to pry, but his curiosity and concern got the better of him. “Y/N… can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice gentle, though she could sense where the conversation was heading.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her hand where it rested on the scar. “This… this scar. How did you get it?”

Y/N looked down at his hand on hers, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into her skin. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before she spoke. It wasn’t a story she shared often, but she knew Aaron would understand and after he allowed himself to be vulnerable around her it was only fair for her to do the same.

“I got it a few years ago,” she began, her voice steady despite the heaviness in her heart. “I was overseas, on a mission with my team. We were part of a rescue operation—there was a situation where we had to extract another team from a remote location. It was supposed to be a straightforward mission, but things went wrong. The helicopter we were in was hit by a missile.”

Aaron’s eyes darkened with concern as he listened, his hand tightening slightly on hers as if to anchor her in the present.

“We crashed in enemy territory,” she continued, her voice quieter now as if the memories were too heavy to speak loudly. “The impact… it was brutal. I took shrapnel to the abdomen, and for a moment, I thought… I thought that was it. But I was lucky, and we were eventually rescued.”

Aaron’s hand moved from hers to gently lift the hem of the shirt, exposing the scar that marred her otherwise flawless skin. He traced the edge of it with his fingertips, his touch featherlight as if he was afraid of causing her pain.

“But not everyone made it,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper now. “My older brother… he was on the team we rescued. He didn’t make it.”

Aaron’s breath hitched at her words, his heart breaking for her. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with empathy and sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She nodded, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Losing him… it tore me apart. I got in a really bad place after his death but an old friend of mine helped me through it. So, I fought because that’s what my brother would have wanted.”

Aaron pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she finally let a few tears slip free. She buried her face in his chest, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his embrace. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t need to. All she needed was someone to lean on and he was there for that.

When Y/N finally pulled back, she looked up at Aaron with a mixture of gratitude and love in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t talk about it often, but it feels good to share it with you.”

“You can always talk to me,” Aaron replied, his voice steady and reassuring. He smiled a soft, almost shy smile that made her heart flutter. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“The best pair,” she replied with a grin, leaning in to kiss him.

Aaron pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers as if to make sure she was okay. “How about we take it easy today?” he suggested gently. “We can stay in, watch movies, or just… be together. Whatever you want.”

Y/N smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. “I’d like that a lot.”

Aaron smiled back at her, his eyes reflecting the same warmth and affection. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

He took her hand in his, leading her out of the kitchen and back into the living room. They settled on the couch, Y/N curling up against Aaron’s side as he draped an arm around her, pulling her close. The TV was on, playing some movie they barely paid attention to as they simply enjoyed the comfort of being together.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

[mysterycitrus]

the way you write the relationships the batfam have with each other is so delicious to me like AUGHH YOUR BRAIN!!! it’s so good. if you were willing, i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on the relationship cass and jason have / steph and jason (staring at you with my big wet eyes)

i havent read much from any of the characters and have seen large parts of fandom say that they would all get along/they’d be so close/besties, so the ideas i’ve read in your works (wolf king and persephone) are very interesting!!

to put it bluntly — i think they’d fucking hate him.

part of that is, weirdly, people tend to devalue tim’s relationships with steph and cass. like, steph and tim have never been normal about each other. cass and tim spent most of the nineties and early aughts jumping back and forth to each other’s comics. in what world would either of them be chill with the guy who hurt him (and damian) like that?

it also flattens cass’s ideology and steph’s history with bruce’s mission. cass has struggled with engaging with murderers because she’s sees them as herself, and their actions as her own actions. she is reflected in each of them, but she ultimately values life above all else which is why her personal connection to the bat is so interesting. she would not have sympathy or time for jason todd, someone who uses bruce’s mission to hurt others, to take lives, and attack the people she loves. like…. please be serious. she would not be hanging out w the person who was happy when bludhaven got nuked.

same deal with steph— something that really annoys me is when people act as though the “bad robin club” would be a bonding moment between steph and jason. not just because steph has a more developed comic run than jason has, with legitimate obstacles to her getting recognised as a hero, but also because again, this guy is doing the same shit as her dad. why would she like him after he went after tim multiple times? whenever someone draws this comparison i think of this page —

the fact that steph values bruce’s mission, his views on taking a life, despite being at such a profound low point is really important. i can’t believe she’d look at jason and think him admirable.

however!!!! that doesn’t mean their interactions (when reasonably in character imo) can’t be interesting!! having cass and jason interact in persephone was a lot of fun, because making him interact with someone other than bruce or dick puts him off balance. peoples fear of complex relationships with legitimate stakes makes me sad. neither cass or steph have that history with him before death, or that same image of him as a memorial, and it’s a fun thing to explore. specifically this passage from wolf-king —

like yeah!! neither of them would fuck with him!!! let him be the unpopular brother!!

[corruptedfates]

At first I wasn't that into the Trolls fandom but after watching Trolls Band Together...

I LOVED IT!!

Mainly because it involves a lot of sibling issues.

Soooo I made this AU which is basically a swap/Clay and Floyd stay AU...

Three Of A Kind AU

Backstory :

Basically in this au Brozone does in fact break up and the brothers do leave their grandma's pod but Floyd ends up feeling bad and heads back to the pod to stay with Branch.

Clay does leave the pod but doesn't leave the tree since he is too scared to do so.He ends up staying with his best friend,Viva and her dad,King Peppy for a while before heading back to his Grandma's pod on Branch's birthday.

Age of each of them when the Band broke up : John Dory-18, Spruce/Bruce-17, Clay-15, Floyd-12, Branch-2

Characters Personality

Clay

•He/Him

•18 years old

•Very Responsible but still fun

•He obviously is now the oldest one of the three

•He has gotten very close with Floyd and Branch over the years

•At some point he got his natural hair colour back

•He helps his grandma a lot with the house chores cus he feels like it's his job now

•He is also in charge of keeping his brothers safe from being eaten by the Bergens...(He does not like that at all)

•He spends less time dancing and singing...expect when Viva and Branch make him with their puppy eyes

Floyd

•He/Him

•15

•Still sensitive but is very caring

•He has a great relationship with Clay but he is still the closest with Branch

•He spends most of his time playing with Branch but still helps Clay and their Grandma with stuff

•He does end up doing a solo career but it doesn't disturb him from spending time with his grandma and brothers

Branch

•He/Him

•5

•Kind, Caring and Enthusiastic

•He has grown very close to both Floyd and Clay

•He still sings but mostly does it when his brothers are around

•He still thinks John Dory and Spruce will come back some day...

•He made a scrapbook of the bunker he plans to make with Floyd and Clay once they escape

Small fun facts

• Clay made two pairs of scrunchies for Floyd and Branch,each matching their hair colours.He still kept his old ones tho

•Floyd gave Clay one of his earrings

•They made leg warmers with their colours during one of their siblings bonding time,it was Viva's idea

•Branch wears Floyd's leaf jacket despite it being bigger than him

•The three would often sing and dance together.This is all before they watch their Grandma die

[nattikay]

Jake is a Good Dad and I will Die On That Hill

Howdy Avatar fandom. Over the past six months or so I’ve seen a lot of criticism directed toward Jake Sully as a father, ranging from him simply being a little too strict at best, to outright neglectful and even abusive at worst. This, my friends, is some grade-A nonsense, and today we’re gonna talk about why. Strap in, lads, this is gonna be a long one. Let’s roll.

So before we get into breaking down the events of the main storyline, let’s address the idea that Jake was always the super-strict “military dad” throughout the kids’ lives: put simply, bullcrap.

Out of the film’s over-three-hour runtime, we get to see very little of the Sullies’ lives before the RDA’s return—only about six minutes’ worth. If Jake was meant to be this strict militaristic dictator during this time period, especially in a way that would significantly impact the kids’ character development and their relationships with him, this would be the time to show it, or at least hint at it. But instead of any of that, we really get quite the opposite. Jake laughs and plays with the kids:

Jokes around and cuddles:

Teaches Neteyam to fish:

He even says in his narration:

“Happiness is simple…whoever thought that a jarhead like me could’ve cracked the code?”

Guys, this is quite literally the best time of his life. This man absolutely adores his family with every fiber of his being, they are his whole world. Like, look at him! He has stars in his eyes!!

We have zero reason to suspect that Jake was overly harsh or strict in a way that would impede his relationship with his kids during this time. The Sullies appear to be a normal, healthy, close-knit family. 

It’s only when the RDA returns and reignites war that things change. 

I’ve seen some people claim that Jake’s personality changed it the second movie. I disagree—it was not his personality that changed, but rather his priorities. 

A1 Jake was a disabled marine vet who was offered his brother’s contract after said brother was unexpectedly murdered by some thug on the street…and part of the reason he agreed to take that contract was that there really wasn’t much else left for him back on Earth, so why not go? A1 Jake had just about nothing left to lose, and therefore could afford to be more reckless.

A2 Jake, however, is another story altogether. A2 Jake can’t just run around poking and prodding and taking risks like A1 Jake did because now he has a wife and four children who rely on him and who he loves more than anything else in the world. It’s not just himself he has to look out for anymore, it’s them. He now has everything to lose. He says as much himself:

Not to mention that he’s older now. Did you really expect the 37-year-old father of four who’s been leading the clan for 15 years and is suddenly thrust back into a brutal war to behave exactly the same as the 22-year-old fish-out-of-water ex-marine sent to fill in for his scientist brother out of the sheer convenience of sharing a genome? A2 Jake’s behavior is not a sudden 180 from his personality in A1, it’s a natural progression and reaction for his character given the changed circumstances. 

“A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.”

This is essentially Jake’s thesis for the movie. This is his #1 priority, his purpose, the lens through which all his actions must be viewed in order to understand them, and it’s important to establish it upfront because it sets up everything else.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at the train raid sequence as its aftermath. Jake begrudgingly allows his now-teenage sons to participate in the war party—from a distance, as spotters. Neteyam seems content to fill this role, but Lo’ak, against orders, eagerly insists that they “have to get in there”, even goading his brother: 

Tailed by an exasperated Neteyam, Lo’ak grabs a weapon from Tarsem and lets out a half-hearted warcry:

...let’s be honest here, Lo’ak doesn’t really seem to be taking this raid anywhere near as seriously as he should be; he’s treating it more like a game—on which point, y’know what, let’s pause to talk about Lo’ak for a moment.

Because the primary purpose of this post is defending Jake, it may at times appear that I am being overly critical towards Lo’ak. This is not my intention—I love Lo’ak as much as I love the rest of the Sully family (which is a lot lol). I think the things he struggles with are reasonable and valid struggles to have considering his circumstances. However, that does not always mean that he is in the “right”. Jake and Lo’ak’s conflict through the movie is not as simple as “son right dad wrong” or vice-versa; rather, it stems from a generational/age gap in experience and priorities. 

In this case, for example, Lo’ak is treating the raid more like a cool action game than a real battle with real stakes. Which may not be much of a surprise—he’s 14! He’s young, he’s naive, he’s never experienced anything close to real war until the past year or so—he probably genuinely does not fully grasp the stakes of this situation just yet. And why should we expect him to, really? He’s never had to before.

Jake, on the other hand, knows the stakes all too well. This ain’t his first rodeo. He was a solider both on Earth (where he was injured severely enough to become paralyzed from the waist down) and then again on Pandora driving out the RDA in a battle that killed several of his friends and allies, including almost completely wiping out the entire Olangi clan. 

Jake understands the risks of war and doesn’t want his kids anywhere near it. We see this not only in the film where he only allows Neteyam and Lo’ak to participate in the raid “from a distance” and ultimately fleeing his own clan altogether once his kids are directly threatened, but also in the comics in which he consistently turns down Neteyam’s pleadings to participate in the war efforts. Unfortunately for him, his sons do happen to be coming of age at around this time and there’s only so much he can do to keep them out of it, so he tries to let them participate in relatively safe ways, like as spotters.

Lo’ak…doesn’t understand this. Not really. And that leads to him recklessly taking unnecessary risks—be it out of curiosity, to get in on the action, or even simply to prove himself. Which understandably scares the crap out of Jake.

When the raid is over, Jake desperately searches the rubble for his sons. He finds Lo’ak quickly and makes sure he’s alright:

…before taking off to search for Neteyam, who he also promptly checks over for injuries. 

which is something I’d like to point out here: although Jake sometimes gets gruff with his sons, he never leads with that. He always always always makes sure they’re ok first. That’s important. We’ll come back to it throughout the post.

Anyways, it’s only after making sure that Neteyam is ok that Jake’s initial bout of fear subsides and morphs into frustration and anger: what were you thinking?! And it’s a fair question. If the boys had followed orders, they wouldn’t have been at such risk in the first place. Once the party returns to High Camp, Jake addresses this point with them, reminding them that by disobeying direct orders they put themselves in very serious danger, and reiterating to Lo’ak in particular that his recklessness nearly got his brother killed and grounding him.

In other words, Jake’s response to his sons going against his orders was…a lecture and a grounding. That’s…a pretty reasonable parental reaction, actually. Sure, you could nitpick and say his tone was too harsh, but given the situation, I struggle to blame him…

…which leads into the next relevant scene: while Mo’at and Kiri tend to Neteyam’s scratches, Neytiri gently chides Jake for being too hard on the boys, concluding with the infamous line: “This is not a squad. It is a family.”

Now, what I find interesting about this scene is that neither party is really in the wrong here. Jake is doing his best to fill his role as a father by watching out for his kids’ physical safety—even if it means being a little strict. Likewise, Neytiri is filling her role as a mother by looking out for her kids’ emotional well-being. As she should!

That said, I think people who use this line as proof of Jake’s supposed parental failure are forgetting the context. While Neytiri’s line is true in general, when the boys sign up to participate in a war party, they kinda do become a “squad”. In that moment, in that context, they are a squad, they have to behave like one lest someone gets hurt if not killed. 

I also think they forget Jake’s reaction to Neytiri’s line:

Look closely. There are tears in his eyes. This dude was terrified of the possibility that he may have just lost one of his sons in the raid, and all his strictness stems from that. And Neytiri seems to recognize this as well, as she can’t seem to decide how to respond. She probably worries about the same thing, after all, even if she handles it differently. 

On that note, let’s look at the next time Lo’ak disobeys instructions: going to the old shack with Spider, Kiri, and Tuk, where they first encounter the recom unit. 

Something interesting about the aftermath of the recom rescue is that no one gets lectured this time actually. Remember what I said about how, no matter how upset he is, Jake always checks to make sure the kids are ok first and foremost? Sure enough, that’s what he does here:

Not only for his daughters, mind you, but also both his sons (we’ll address the daughter-favoritism claims later):

With the recoms now targeting the Sully family specifically, Jake, feeling out of other options, makes the difficult decision to flee and find refuge among the Metkayina clan. 

whoops, there’s that “protection” theme again

When their request for sanctuary is somewhat reluctantly accepted, Jake calls a family meeting and tells the kids this:

Remember how earlier we established how “a father protects” is essentially Jake’s thesis for this movie? Well, this is an offshoot of that: Jake believes that hiding amongst the Metkayina is currently the best was to keep his family safe; therefore, throughout the Sullies’ time with the clan, Jake’s primary goal is to lay low and get along with the clan so as not to tread on their hospitality and get kicked out (even if and when that means setting aside one’s own pride). This, then, is the lens through which Jake’s actions must be analyzed while his family is staying with the Metkayina.

The first time this becomes relevant is after Neteyam and Lo’ak’s little scrap defending Kiri from Aonung and his posse. Jake is clearly not thrilled about Kiri being bullied, but again, his top priority is keeping his family safe and right now this entails maintaining a good standing with the chief, which in turns means that his sons getting into brawls with Tonowari’s son is a very bad look. Which is why, after a moment of internal conflict, he asks Lo’ak to apologize to Aonung (he even tries to explain when Lo’ak protests:)

On that note, while remaining on good terms with the clan has to take precedence at this moment, Jake is clearly quietly proud of his boys for kicking butt, as we see from his exchange with Neteyam (though yes, it is unfortunate that Lo’ak didn’t get to see this bit).

…which brings us to one of the bigger moments that people point to when accusing Jake of being a bad father: the “you bring shame to this family” line. Now, I can understand why this line doesn’t sit right with viewers initially, especially since we have just seen firsthand the truth about what Lo’ak experienced over the past few hours. However, when you consider what’s going on from Jake’s perspective, the line is not quite as unreasonable as it first seems.

Let’s back up a bit to when Lo’ak first returns to the village after meeting Payakan. At first Jake is just relieved that his son is ok (remember: he always checks first)

In fact, once it’s clear that Lo’ak is ok, it seems Jake just wanted to let it go and head home…the real conflict didn’t begin until after Lo’ak lied to take the blame for Aonung.

Up until this moment, Jake only knew Aonung’s side of the story, that he’d taken Lo’ak outside the reef and he got stranded there (it’s unclear whether Aonung specifies that he abandoned him out there on purpose, the little punk, but I digress). But when Tonowari (rightfully) declares Aonung’s responsibility for the incident, Lo’ak speaks up to take the fall, claiming that the whole ordeal was all his idea, which Aonung had tried to talk him out of.

Lo’ak does not have a reputation for lying…but he does have a reputation for pulling reckless stunts that put himself and others in danger, so for better or for worse, Jake has literally zero reason not to believe this claim. 

In other words, for Jake, the situation has just gone from “my son got taken advantage of by the local bullies and put into a precarious situation but he’s home safe now” to “my son dragged a bunch of other kids to a dangerous location where he knows he’s not supposed to go despite the chef’s son trying to talk him out of it, endangering both his life and theirs, getting lost in the process, and thereby worrying and inconveniencing the entire clan on whose hospitality we rely by making them go out of their way to arrange a whole search party in the dead of night just to find him.”

…yeah, no wonder he was flippin’ ticked. No wonder he “didn’t want to hear it” when Lo’ak tries to explain that he was “only trying to make friends”. We as the audience know that’s true, of course, but as far as Jake knows in that moment, based on what Lo’ak himself claimed just moments ago, he was trying to “make friends” by…dragging them out to a dangerous location despite their protests thus jeopardizing both his and their lives as well as his family’s standing in the clan who can kick them out at any time. Yeah, I wouldn’t want to “hear it” either.

When you look at it from that perspective, “you brought shame to this family” doesn’t really seem quite as extreme, does it?

And yes, I feel for Lo’ak here, really, I do; he’s just been through a lot and yes based on the actual events that just occurred his father’s anger is the last thing the poor kid needs and I totally get why it would upset him…but at the same time, I can’t help feeling that he kinda brought this particular lecture on himself by voluntarily taking the blame for Aonung. Not really sure what he was expecting: that Jake would somehow read his mind and understand the way things actually went? That he would see through his lie and praise him for being so amiable towards Aonung by taking the fall perhaps similar to how Neteyam so often claims the blame for Lo’ak’s own reckless shenanigans despite how rude Aonung had been to him thus far? Or perhaps he just blurted out the blame claim as an olive branch of sorts to Aonung (genuinely trying to “make friends” in a way) without really thinking about the consequences of doing so. Who knows. But regardless of how Lo’ak did or didn’t think things would go, I think it’s a little unfair to blame Jake for his reaction. Based on his knowledge of the circumstances, which in turn were based on Lo’ak’s own account given only moments before (remember, Jake had zero reason to suspect he was lying), his reaction is actually pretty understandable.

Speaking of Lo’ak’s adventures with Payakan, the next time we see him clash with his father is when Tonowari lectures him for bonding with the outcast, and Lo’ak defends his new friend. Remember: Jake’s top priority is keeping his family safe which currently means not getting kicked out of the Metkayina. Lo’ak, regardless of whether or not he was in the right, was clearly upsetting Ronal and Tonowari in this exchange—Neytiri is actually the first to step in and warn her son:

…and when Lo’ak persists anyways, Jake has to step in in hopes of smoothing things over with the chief. 

It sucks that this upset Lo’ak, especially because we the audience know that Lo’ak is right about Payakan, but again, Jake is currently more concerned with not getting kicked out of the clan than with his son winning an argument about the validity of a tulkun’s outcast status.

.

...aaaand here comes the hardest part of this essay to write. Admittedly I wasn’t aware of this argument until recently, but now that I know it’s out there I feel obligated to address it here. Apparently some folks are out there claim that Jake did not display a sufficient amount of emotion at Neteyam’s death, and this somehow proves that he wasn’t as attached to his sons as he should have been. And all I have to say to that is: did we watch the same movie?? 

That man broke upon his son’s death. Did he wail and cry like Neytiri, no, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t heartbroken—wailing and crying simply aren’t how his character responds to trauma. He’s a solider, he’s probably trained to delay any external breakdown at least until a given battle is over.

But you can still see it in his face. You can hear it in his voice which breaks and shudders when he realizes that Neteyam is dying and tries to give him a few last words of comfort, wanting so desperately to ease his pain to the best of his abilities. 

...yeah. This man is broken in this moment.

…but his job isn’t over yet. The battle is still raging. He still has three more kids who still need him. As much as he may want to, he cannot take the time to fully grieve in this moment.

…which brings us to the big one, the main line people point to when arguing that Jake is a bad father:

Now, let’s be honest: was this an awful thing to say? Yes, absolutely. Should Jake apologize to Lo’ak for it after the fact, if he hasn’t already? Definitely, one-hundred-percent. I’m not disputing that in the least.

however…

In this moment, Jake has just spent the past however-long locked in a vicious battle, and hardly minutes before watched his firstborn son bleed out in his arms. And now he learns that his daughters—one of whom is a pre-pubescent child with no chance of defending herself—are still caught on the “demon ship” with the recoms, who have just very clearly proven that they have absolutely no qualms with killing these kids. Quaritch taunting in his ear certainly is not helping. 

The only thing Jake could properly focus on in that moment was getting Kiri and Tuk off that boat. Repeat: he wants to get his kids OFF the demon ship, not risk bringing any of them back ON. On top of that, Lo’ak, as established very early on in the film (see: train raid), has a reputation for struggling to follow orders…even when not emotionally devastated by the death of his brother. 

All these things considered, is it really any wonder that Jake did not want Lo’ak coming along on this mission? He’s already lost one son, why in the ever-loving flip flap would he want to risk losing the other by intentionally bringing him back to the danger zone with no guarantee he’ll come out again, especially given his apparent propensity to ignore orders and throw himself into danger? 

Heck, the only reason he lets Spider come is that Spider knows where the girls are and, unlike Lo’ak, Spider doesn’t have that same reckless reputation. Spider, in that moment, appears to be able to compartmentalize the fresh trauma well enough to focus on the task at hand, and can be trusted to do as Jake asks. Lo’ak…can’t. So, Jake wants him to stay behind.

Did he express it horribly? Absolutely. But saying one stupid insensitive thing in a moment of numbness underlaid by grief, pain, and fear does not make him a horrible dad overall, and I think it’s a little unfair to say that it does.

On that note, I do not believe for one moment that Jake genuinely blames Lo’ak for Neteyam’s death. Now, Lo’ak may well view it that way and I’m sure it’ll come into play for his character arc in future movies, which can be a topic for another day, but as for Jake’s perspective, no. I don’t think he truly blames Lo’ak. Even if he couldn’t necessarily process it all right away, I think he knows that Lo’ak is going through as much heartbreak as the rest of the family…especially given that Jake himself has firsthand experience losing a brother. He just said something dumb in a moment of pain.

(On the topic of Lo’ak being unable to follow orders, less than five minutes after Jake, Neytiri, and Spider leave for the ship, Lo’ak…immediately disobeys the order to stay safe on the island and heads back out to the ship anyways. Obviously in the grand scheme of things it’s good that he was there to save Jake from drowning after the scuffle with Quaritch, but still, good gracious son. Way to spectacularly prove your dad’s point.) 

So now we come to the point where Lo’ak saves Jake’s life. After a mutual choke-out with Quaritch, Jake is left to drown until Lo’ak finds him and pulls him to the surface, at which point he gasps for air and chokes out Neteyam’s name. 

This can be interpreted in a few ways. It could be that Jake is so accustomed to Neteyam being the “responsible” one that he irrationally thought it was him coming to the rescue, momentarily forgetting he had died or somehow thinking maybe by some stroke of fate he pulled through after all—this seems to be Lo’ak’s assumption, given that he promptly corrects him.

Now, some may take Jake’s “oh, Lo’ak…” as a show of favoritism, or proof that Jake values his first son above his second. I don’t think this is the case though—I don’t think Jake’s apparent disappointment is about Lo’ak being there so much it’s about Neteyam not being there. In other words, it’s not a personal slight against or disappointment in Lo’ak, but rather a form of still-very-raw grief for Neteyam who, remember, only just died, like, an hour ago.

It could also be that Jake is still so distraught following Neteyam’s death that it’s consuming his thoughts…he was able to shove it down and compartmentalize long enough to fight the recoms and get Tuk and Kiri off the boat, but that compartmentalization broke down while he was literally drowning and it took him a minute to focus and put things back together (which he manages to do a moment later when Lo’ak tries to apologize for his brother’s death):

The most excruciating interpretation I’ve seen is Jake thinking he had drowned and is rejoining Neteyam in the afterlife. ouch. Though that is, of course, just speculation.

Regardless, at this point Jake has just about given up. He’s exhausted, he’s in agony, both physically and emotionally. He’s completely drained. He wants Lo’ak to live but is ready to give up on himself (“I can’t make it. You can.”). It’s only when Lo’ak insists: 

 ...that Jake realizes he still needs to press forward. Because his other kids still need him. His other son still needs him and he’s not willing to give up on him. So he takes a deep breath (literally), puts his trust in Lo’ak, and lets his son lead him through the flooded passageways out of the wreck. When they finally break the surface, we have this lovely moment:

This moment is a resolution to one of Lo’ak’s primary emotional conflicts throughout the movie: living in the shadow of his legendary war hero father and prodigious older brother, finally getting the recognition and affirmation he so craved from that father. Some might argue that in terms of “ideal” parenting that this kind of moment should have come sooner, or that Jake’s recognition of his son should never have been in doubt in the first place, and while there may be some truth to that, I struggle to really blame Jake for it for reasons I just spent the past 4000 words discussing. I think the fact that this moment happened at all shows that despite their clashes and struggles and miscommunications, Jake does and always has cared very deeply about Lo’ak; his lectures and frustrations come not out of malice or some personal distaste, but out of fear for his well-being.

We see Jake comforting Lo’ak again after the family returns to Neteyam’s body on the rocks.

 As I said before, I don’t think for even the briefest moment Jake genuinely blames Lo’ak for Neteyam’s death. I don’t think he would be comforting him like this if he did.

…which, I suppose, brings us to Neteyam’s funeral, and Jake and Neytiri visiting his spirit within Eywa. No parent should ever have to bury their child and good golly gracious this scene ripped my heart out but I digress. I don’t even really have a lot of commentary to add to these scenes…just…just this. It speaks for itself.

look me in the eye and tell me this man “doesn’t care about his sons”. I flipping DARE you.

.

Well, that concludes the debunking of scenes that supposedly make Jake a bad father. But before we go, let’s look just briefly at this scene of him being a good dad with Kiri. I didn’t mention this earlier because while I’ve seen a lot of complaints about Jake’s interactions with Neteyam and especially Lo’ak, few people have qualms with the way Jake treats Kiri and Tuk—in fact, many people claim that he shows favoritism to his daughters, going out of his way “baby” them and treat them more gently and lovingly than his sons. I disagree and hope the above has done a thorough job dispelling that notion: Kiri and Tuk don’t go around throwing themselves headlong into the same kind of danger that Neteyam and Lo’ak do. They aren’t begging to participate in battle, they aren’t disobeying orders that land them in mortal peril. 

In other words: Jake lectures his sons more than his daughters out of necessity, not nepotism. Remember: Jake’s #1 priority is protecting his family, keeping them all safe and alive. That means that when one of his kids pulls a stupid stunt that puts them in danger he feels the need to crack down on that in hopes of preventing it from happening again. Lo’ak is, quite frankly, prone to pulling those kind of stunts, so he gets lectured a lot. Kiri and Tuk do not typically pull such stunts, so they don’t get lectured. It’s as simple as that, really.

Buuuuuut now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s talk just briefly about Jake comforting Kiri.

Like with the scene of visiting Neteyam’s spirit, I don’t have much commentary to add to this scene—it’s a very sweet scene and it speaks for itself really. Jake is very gentle and doing his best to listen to Kiri, even if he is a little unsure about her claims. He doesn’t criticize or invalidate, he just tries to be there for her. What can I say, that’s a good dad right there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

One last little point before we wrap up for real: the fact that Lo’ak and Neteyam occasionally refer to Jake as “sir”. I was originally planning to address this earlier but it didn’t quite fit in with the flow of the discussion and I consider it such a minor point anyways, I figured I could save it for a side note—but seriously, it baffles me what a big deal people make of this. 

It would be one thing if “sir” was something that Jake strictly enforced, if it was the only thing he allowed the kids to address him as, if one of them called him “Dad” and he barked back, “no! it is sir!” But…literally none of that is the case. He never explicitly asks them to call him “sir”, and they call him “Dad” just as often if not more.

The kids referring to Jake as “sir” in tense moments is a simple show of respect, nothing more. I recall my own dad also wanting to be called “sir” when we were in trouble and it was never really an issue. And I suppose your milage may vary depending on where you live, but growing up in the southern US, “sir” and “ma’am” are just very common basic courtesy in many situations (not just familial). 

Sooooo….yeah, the idea that Neteyam and Lo’ak occasionally calling Jake sir is somehow proof of Jake being too strict or cold or whatever else is really making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s not that deep y’all.

…aaaand I suppose that’s it for this post. 

In conclusion: 

Look guys, Jake does not have to be your favorite character. You don’t even have to like him, or agree with everything that he says or does. He isn’t perfect (which, by the way, literally no one is). But if nothing else, I hope this behemoth of a post has at least helped you understand his character and why he acts and reacts the way that he does.

Jake Sully may not be a shining beacon of parental perfection from a psychological development perspective (and all things considered, expecting him to be such is, quite frankly, a little silly), but good golly gracious he is trying his absolute darnedest in incredibly difficult and precarious circumstances beyond his control i.e. the RDA coming back to quite literally take over. This man’s family means absolutely everything to him and I’m done sitting back and watching y’all slander him just because he didn’t react to x situation the way you think he should have.

thank you and good night

[merriclo]

a lot of people found it really helpful the last time i provided some context for LU Legend’s games (this post!!), so i’m gonna do that again!! this time specifically about A Link Between Worlds. if you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask, and i will answer to the best of my ability! please keep in mind that i am only speaking on the english translation <3

also, i will only refer to this game’s Link as Link instead of Legend. while i’m writing this primarily to help the Linked Universe fandom, these details are only from the canonical game and can be applied to any interpretation of this game’s Link. it is not exclusive to Linked Universe whatsoever!!!!!

anyhow, in this game, Link has a family: the blacksmiths. while never overtly stated, it is so heavily implied that assuming the author’s intent is a relatively safe course of action.

for those unaware, the Blacksmith family includes three people: the unnamed blacksmith, his unnamed wife, and their little boy Gulley. also, prior to the start of A Link Between Worlds, Link worked as an apprentice at the forge!!

the Blacksmith is pretty tough on Link throughout the beginning of the game, berating him for oversleeping and not working hard enough to become a proper Blacksmith. this seems relatively mean at first, but then it becomes clear that he really just wants the best for Link. he’s a very successful man who wants Link to be just as prosperous. later on, there’s a really nice moment between the two after Link rescues Gulley (who was kidnapped by the game’s main villain, Yuga) where the Blacksmith says “I’m real proud of how you’re shaping up here, Link.” it’s a brief, heartwarming exchange between the two, and it really highlights their relationship dynamic.

his wife, on the other hand, is much more overtly caring towards our hero. in the description of Link’s green tunic, it’s said that the wife is the one who sewed it for him. more than that, she’s also the one who made the adventure pouches for Link’s belt, telling him “I made it for you so you could carry more items…. But please—you should use that pouch so I won’t have to worry about YOU quite as much!” once he receives them. she’s a very kind and caring figure in his life, who often takes time out of her day just to help Link out and make sure he’s okay.

Gulley is arguably the closest to Link out of all of them. For starters, A Link Between Worlds opens with Gulley waking Link up from a prophetic dream and mentioning that Link oversleeps too much, meaning that (a) Gulley has the key to Link’s home, and (b) this happens often. Gulley was also said to have insisted on being the one to give Link the adventure pouches his mom made! the entire reason Link originally goes on his hero’s journey is to save the boy after he was kidnapped, and when Link passes out and ends up in the middle of the road in Lorule, he’s said to have been mumbling Gulley’s name over and over again (furthermore, it was the blacksmith family’s Lorulian counterparts that had found and saved Link when he passed out.)

i don’t think Link is genetically related to the blacksmiths, even though they do share similar hair and eye colors. if that were the case, they’d simply be labeled as Mom as Dad. my interpretation of it is that Link is unofficially adopted :)

tl;dr: the Link in A Link Between Worlds isn’t alone. he has a family that loves and cares for him deeply. and this post doesn’t even include the countless close friends he made in ALBW alone. please guys acknowledge them im begging you

as always, i’m not saying that you have to take this post as gospel or even be influenced by it at all. i just want to open up new avenues to explore these characters through for people without access to the games <3

[paleghostinthecorner02]

Because Gwen is a teenager who was betrayed by her father and taken in by adults who constantly filled her head with the idea that people, including her dad, had to die for millions to be saved. Because despite said adults knowing the bad situation she was in chose to treat her completely like an agent, a warrior, a soldier instead of a child that needed love and compassion. Because despite living in fear of Miguel sending her back home, she still chose to disobey him to see Miles when she had the chance because she loves him that much. Because she was in a lose/lose situation where telling Miles about his dad needing to die would inflict a pain she was experiencing and didn't want him to bear, but not telling him would run the risk of him finding out from someone else and making her look like she was being malicious. Because she was used as a scapegoat by Miguel when he was the main reason Miles was able to escape, and punished by him for it. Because she recognized the hurt she caused and took accountability, unlike any of the adults in her life including PETER B. PARKER. Because she is actively trying to make up for the mistakes she made while she was still under Miguel's influence.

None of you media illiterate dweebs who treat her like she's Judas Iscariot and the Whore of Babylon combined because she made some very understandable mistakes should continue to watch these children's movies because I'm afraid the writing for Gwen is too complicated for you to grasp. Gwen has actual, meaningful flaws than cause actual, meaningful conflict and lead her her having actual, meaningful character development. Even more pertinent, her failings aren't a result of any kind of malice, but rather a desire to not see the people she loves hurt, an understandable character trait that stems from the trauma of her accidentally killing someone close to her OH MY GOD DO YOU NOT WATCH THESE MOVIES?

Honestly Peter B is way more infuriating in this movie since he's an adult who doesn't view Miguel as an authority figure (if their comic relationship is the same in this movie then they're friends and Miguel has a lot of respect for Peter) and has nothing for Miguel to hold over his head like Gwen did. He should have known better, he should have been the one most defending Miles, he should have defended Gwen when Miguel was blaming her for something Peter knew wasn't her fault. He was RIGHT THERE next to Gwen on the train and saw Miguel fail to subdue Miles (despite the fact that he could have, you know, injected him with a powerful, non lethal paralytic that would have made it exceedingly easy to take Miles into custody and instead decided to monologue like a dipshit). Give me a reason other than abject misogyny why you think Gwen deserves to be hated in a way Peter doesn't, I dare you.

Rant over. TL:DR, Gwen doesn't deserve the hate she gets from idiots in the fandom who can't see past "Muh poor Miles got his feelings hurt."

[thethirdfrogbrother]

A Short Simon Snow Character Analysis:

"Simon needed time. He needed care. He still startled at bright lights and sudden noises. And prolonged eye contact. He'd get jumpy when we were alone together." (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 85)

"On the worst days, on the even worse nights, I used to think about all the bad things that have happened to Simon– just the ones I know about. And then I'd wonder about all the terrible things that have happened to him that I DON'T know about. Twenty years of bad things. How long would it take for those painful memories to die back?" (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 86)

Simon is genuinely one of the saddest chosen ones I've ever read about, and I feel like its ignored by the fandom a lot. Like the book series is always portrayed as funny and light hearted and it is sometimes but at the root it's sad and heart wrenching. However, it's also really creative and has a tone of parallels and connections and like the whole concept of the chosen one fulfilling his purpose and no longer being needed anymore isn't used often. A lot of the times the Chosen one's issues aren't even addressed at ALL its just "Oh he went through a lot as a child but the bad guy is dead now and he got the girl (or guy) so it's fine, he's happy"

Simon was used by everyone his whole life. The Mage, the rest if the world of mages, even Penny and Agatha a bit too, (which Penny realizes and admits in AWTWB). Simon was left as a child at an orphanage where we really don't know much about his life, because he doesn't know much either. In Wayward Son, Simon talks to his therapist about not remembering a lot before he was 11 and she says the brain blocks out things that have traumatized or hurt us in the past. When Simon is 11 and comes to Watford, he speaks so little the teachers have to give him private lessons, and when that doesn't work he gets a speech therapist. A few other details a are given as well such as how Simon jumped from orphanages and Foster homes. All these allow us to infer that he didn't have a good childhood, and stuff probably happened to him.

The Mage becomes Simon's only father figure, and even then Simon says he never felt like a father. The Mage treated Simon like a weapon, and even lied to him about being his father. The Mage could have made things much easier for himself by raising Simon, but he chose to just leave him till he was 11 because he didn't feel like raising his own kid. "Maybe it's part of what the Mage did to me. He said he got me wrong, that I was a cracked vessel. I can't hold on to anything good." (AWTWB pg 65) the Mage only payed attention to Simon when it benefited him. Simon was an object to him, and if you remember in Carry On, it was obvious to literally everyone but Simon, who didn't want to believe he was being manipulated. It turned him into a killing machine.

Often times I feel as if the fandom portrays Simon as some talkative goofball, but that's completely ignoring his character. Simon says in Carry On that he doesn't think because in the end he just does what people tell him too. But that's not true. He does think, all the time, he just pushes away the stuff he doesn't want to think about, thinking about other things to muffle out these unwanted thoughts. Baz also says in Carry On that most conversations with Simon are just Simon shrugging. We feel as though Simon talks a lot because when it's his POV he's always rambling, but this is because Simon has a strong inner monolouge.

Simon had no adult figures in his life to lean on. Every character had someone, despite their maybe complex relationships. Baz has Fiona, and the two are close despite the tension and arguing. Penny has her mom and dad, despite their differences, they all love each other a ton. And Agatha has her parents, who do care about her. Simon never has a firm foundation. Not the Mage, Penny's mom barley likes him, Agatha's family only treats him well because he's the chosen one and dating Agatha, and Baz's family straight up despises him. Everyone else also has friends to lean on too, once you get later into the series. Agatha has a Ginger and even Penny, Penny has Baz and Shepard, Baz has Dev and Niall whom he chooses to sort of ghost, but also Penny. And they all have Simon. But I couldn't help but notice that whenever Simon tried to communicate, he was shut down.

Simon is bad at communicating. They all address this multiple times. But it's the fact that his friends don't even have faith that he'll survive. Multiple times from all POVS it talks about how everyone expected Simon to die, and they're all talking about how they would feel and how it affects them knowing that, but no one ever asked Simon. And Simon is aware of this too, but he just once again ignores it. No one wants a hero who's scared to die for his cause. Simon is shit at communication, but he has his own ways of showing that at least something IS wrong, that Penny and Baz have learned how to read, yet ignore when it's not convenient. Baz and Penny take Simon on a trip out to America, but it wasn't about Simon. Penny had ulterior motives, to see Micah and Agatha. Then the whole situation happened there, and though obviously Baz had nothing going on with Lamb, it clearly made Simon insecure and upset. But Baz just gets annoyed at him for it instead of trying to figure out the root of the issue.

A scene that always irked me in WS is the one where Simon comes back with his hair cut, after months of neglecting it because of his depression. And Baz says nothing, because he's too busy feeling sorry for himself. This may have seemed like a small thing but Simon literally couldn't leave the couch, for almost a year. His self hatred and issues were so bad he couldn't get up. So he finally makes this step, cutting his hair, trying to get better...and Baz basically ignores it.

Another thing is the end if WS when they're on the beach. Simon is trying to say how he feels, in his own way. That he isn't good enough for Baz, Baz should find someone else. And Baz just shuts him down, like he always does. Like he always does when Simon tries to communicate his feelings about being the chosen one, and what happened with the Mage. Then they get back to England, and Baz just acts like nothing happened. Simon shouldn't have ignored all his texts, and shouldn't have moved out leaving just a note, but he doesn't know how to communicate. No one taught him how to do this, all he knows is he needs to figure his shit out and no one currently in that situation, was really helping him.

I see a lot of people hating on AWTWB because Simon and Baz break up, because their relationship is admittedly toxic, and then get together the next day. But I think it makes perfect sense. They both love each other so so much, and they have an unhealthy attachment. Often with toxic relationships, especially when we love each other and want them to work out, we keep coming back in hopes of fixing things. Both boys have severe abandonment issues, and they don't want to loose each other.

I also see people hating on WS and AWTWB because Baz and Simon aren't all happy. Like legit, that is why I see those books getting the most hate. But it makes sense. People's pasts have an effect on them and how they behave. Simon killed the only father figure really he'd ever had. And he still doesn't understand the extent of abuse said man put him through. Simon doesn't know how to put himself first. Like when they're fighting the vampire's in WS, and simon is on the brink of death, he STILL stands up because that's what people have expected him to do all his life. Baz wants everything to be okay and happy and ignore their issues, because that's what they've done his whole life in his family, ignoring problems like him being a vampire. And what Simon desperately needs is to approach his, but he doesn't know how deep his issues run, except that he's a broken, fucked up, mess. He has ptsd, depression, and anxiety, and doesn't know how to help himself.

Overall, Simon's character holds a complexity that often times I see ignored. The story is romantic, and cute. I love Snowbaz as much as the next person. But you can't fully appreciate the story until you actually understand the depth of the characters, especially starting with Simon Snow.

Thank you, have a nice day <3

[arliedraws]

In the books, Sirius's devotion to Harry is of course very deep, but it never translates to something physical. He only shakes Harry's end when he leaves his bedside in book 4, and in book 5 there is something resembling a hug, like twice...? As a dog he stood up his hind legs and front paws on harry's shoulders and a half hug after Christmas. Idk it sort of drives me crazy, because in the movies Harry and Sirius are so affectionate! That first hug when Harry arrives in Grimmauld!! Gary and Dan had an amazing chemistry that other actors were jealous of, they mirrored the book characters, so it palpable on screen, the few scenes Gary is in at all at least.

So, what do you make of this? Do you in musing for art imagine a more affectionate relationship between Harry and Sirius? Maybe if Sirius survived the war? Molly's hug in book 4 was a poignant moment but imo that should have been a moment between Sirius and Harry. Sirius already says he expected something catastrophic to happen to Harry in the third task, that's what he stutters when Harry comes in with Dumblebore. So he is literally afraid of his godsons life and it still shows of course, Sirius staying at Harry's side was very beautifully written, like the devotion is clear, but I am foaming at the mouth for more affection between them in canon? Platonic, not shipping. So between the movies and the books Im just kinda torn what's better

It's more a rant than an ask, sorry lol, but if you have any input I'd he so stoked to read it. Not many peeps in the fandom even give Sirius and Harry any time of day, nvrmind even understand what they had (which also drives me kinda nuts but ok)

Ohhhh, anon, you’ve come to the right spot! Mostly because I love them. I would say that 80% of my fandom interest is just Sirius being a dad to Harry.

To your question, I don’t think one is better than the other. Each has their purpose. Let me share my thoughts:

1. I am soft for movie Sirius and Harry’s affectionate touching. However. The dynamics of their relationship were NOT mirrored from the books, which…is fine. Honestly, I just don’t think it was a priority for the filmmakers. This particular bit doesn’t bother me because the movies are not supposed to replace the source material—they are an interpretation. To me, watching the movies is like reading fic—fun to watch but not canon. Also, the filmmakers removed so much of their relationship in GoF that they HAD to make Sirius and Harry physically affectionate in order for movie audiences to see what losing Sirius would mean to Harry. Their complexity is completely unexplored in the films, and they had to do SOMETHING to get the audience to feel sad when Sirius died. This started in PoA when they really downplayed the context of their relationship. (Lol, see my rant on PoA. I really don’t like that movie hahahahaha.)

2. In the books, Harry and Sirius are not physically affectionate with each other despite their intense love for each other, and I think this is an effective way to show characterization. As I tell my students, this might have been intentional by the author, but it could have been an instinct that she followed (what feels right for the characters).

Here’s what I think: both are so terrified of losing the other that they won’t allow themselves to get too close, and, crucially, they both fear showing vulnerability. Touching someone and reaching out for a hug or comfort is an extremely vulnerable thing to do. If you reach out for a hug, you are showing your true feelings. To be rejected physically is sometimes more devastating than someone telling you to just “go away.” It’s a sign of trust to touch someone—you are trusting that they feel the same way about you, and you are trusting that they won’t pull away. Both Sirius and Harry understand rejection, and both avoid it. How do you avoid rejection? You distance yourself.

I’ll put the rest under a cut because I think this might get long…

Sirius and Harry, for all that they love each other, fall out of trusting each other by OotP. Part of this is trauma, but it is also miscommunication. Harry is worried that Sirius will do something stupid—either out of concern for Harry or because he wants to get out of number 12–but he’s worried he’ll lose Sirius. So by withholding affection (which I’m not sure if he knows how to give physically), Harry distances himself from Sirius which will, theoretically, keep Sirius safe (of course, it backfires). Sirius is…you know…going through stuff in OotP. He is already vulnerable—he perceives himself as being emasculated because he’s not allowed to leave his childhood home and he’s relegated to performing ‘uninteresting, domestic work’, and he must be inactive when he’s a man OF action.

When it comes to Goblet of Fire and the odd handshake… I think Sirius is reeeeeally holding back. Harry does NOT want him to go, and Sirius knows this. (Why DOES Dumbledore send him away? Literally anyone else could have “alerted the old crowd” and NOT the convicted murderer. This is clearly the author’s excuse to get Sirius away from Harry—and, I’ve spoken to this before, Sirius is too much of a miracle character—too smart, too loyal, too loving to support the story that the author wanted to tell.) Sirius, if he had stayed, would have been the emotional support that Harry needed. So if Sirius holds Harry, what if Harry doesn’t let go? What if Sirius himself can’t let go? A handshake will have to do.

So Sirius leaves Harry with that bizarre handshake. That Sirius leaves at all damages their relationship—it could have been repaired with time (if they’d been allowed time), but this moment makes Harry realize that he cannot rely on anyone, not even Sirius. This leaves Harry to be isolated in OotP, and it leaves him to feel like he cannot trust anyone. I’m not blaming Sirius for leaving, but I believe this action causes a rift between them that carries into the next book.

My point is, I HATE that they don’t touch but it is very important that they don’t, at least when it comes to the story that the author wanted to tell. I think it was the right move when we look at the story as a whole. Do I like it? NO! But it’s interesting, and it DOES feel right for them. Is it devastating? Yes!!!!!!!

TL;DR: I don’t think either interpretation is necessarily better than the other, but they both have their purpose. Both are effective!

Touch is…huge in HP. Consider Voldemort’s “I can touch him now” and causing Harry pain. Touch is a privilege, and to be touched without permission is a violation. Harry kills someone by touching them. He is only touched by his family when Dudley beats him up or he gets shoved in his cupboard.

Weirdly, one of my absolutely favorite moments when Sirius and Harry touch is in PoA when the Dementors are closing in on Sirius, Harry, and Hermione, and Harry, as he’s about to faint, reaches out to grab an unconscious Sirius by the arm, thinking something along the lines of “the dementors weren’t going to take him” and such. And this is about two seconds after Harry has accepted that Sirius is telling the truth! Harry physically tethers Sirius to him—this touch-starved teen reaches out to this man who is now everything to him, who is now his only real family, willing to risk death (or worse) to keep it. BUT THEY JUST MET!!!!! Devastating!!!

Also…another thought: the first time Sirius and Harry touch is the first time Sirius has been touched as a human in twelve years. And Harry is beating the absolute shit out of him…and then Sirius nearly strangles him…

Also, also, not to like…self-promote, but if you want some Sirius & Harry family feelings and a wee bit of affectionate touching, I wrote a one-shot where they talk about their feelings in OotP.

Anyway, this got longer than I thought. Thank you for the prompt!!

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi, it's Lyn. I really liked the fanfics you wrote me! Um, if it's okay, can I request a fic with Howl X female reader, where the female reader has a breakdown because her family is falling apart (parents won't talk to each other/emotionally divorced, father is distant, mother is unkind and angry, sister is always aggressive) and Howl comforts her? Things are really tough for me right now so I kinda need some comfort like that, if it's okay?

Also, um, I don't go by Lyn anymore, I go by Aoife/Angel (yeah, I'm pretty indecisive when coming up with a name)

Hi Aofie! Thank you for your request! This was actually really therapeutic to write since I've been going through a bit of a rough period as well. I hope this helps you get through this tough time. I hope you like the fic!

Fandom: Howl's Moving Castle

Characters: Howl Pendragon x gn! Reader

Word Count: 0.6k (684 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re going through a rough patch in your life, your family breaking apart. Thankfully, your loving boyfriend, Howl, is there to comfort you in this tough time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in your room, feet hanging off the side of your bed as you tried not to cry.

You could feel the heat behind your eyes and any hopes you had of distracting yourself from your rising emotions was dashed by the fact that you could no longer see properly through the wave of tears that was just being held back.

You’d had enough.

You curled in on yourself, almost tipping off the bed in the process. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let the tears fall freely as you took great gasping intakes of breath between sobs.

You hoped crying would make you feel better but at the moment, you felt pretty awful, both mentally, physically, and emotionally.

You were so caught up in your own roiling thoughts that you didn’t hear the footsteps until the bed sunk down next to you and there was a hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

You sniffed and, through everything, you caught the distinctive smell of Howl’s cologne. You turned to him, keeping your face lowered and planted your face in his lap, wrapping your arms weakly around his waist.

Howl brought his other hand to your head, scratching slowly at your scalp while maintaining the circles on your back with his other hand.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, letting all of your emotions out. All you knew was that when you finally couldn’t cry anymore, there was a wet patch where your face had been resting.

Howl must have felt you stir because his hands paused and he leaned down so his mouth was closer to your ear.

“Feeling any better?” He kept his voice low and gentle.

You sniffed in response, not sure yet whether you felt any different.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There was a long period of silence and you considered this. Just as you heard Howl take a breath as if to speak, you broke the silence.

“My family’s falling apart. My mum and dad aren’t talking to each other. My mum’s angry all the time. My dad’s distant. My sister’s aggressive.” You couldn’t stop talking now that you had opened the floodgates, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.” With a shuddering breath, you fell back into Howl’s lap, fresh tears flowing from your eyes.

Howl resumed rubbing circles on your back. He remained quiet but you could almost hear him thinking about the right way to respond to everything you had just told him.

After another long silence, he spoke. “I’m glad you told me. My relationship with my family is quite different to yours so I won’t claim to know how you feel. But I can imagine something that I hope is close to how you’re feeling.”

Another pause. Then he leant down and pressed a kiss to your head. Keeping his lips close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m here if you need anything. Want to talk? Want to scream and cry? Want me to distract you? Anything. I’m here for you. Things will get better.”

You had stopped crying and, at Howl’s words, felt a weak smile tug at your mouth. You were grateful you had such a supportive boyfriend.

He patted your back. “Come on. Up you hop. Let me see your lovely face.”

You hesitated, almost laughing. “I’ve just been crying. I certainly don’t have a lovely face at the moment.”

“Nonsense.” Howl lifted you from his lap and, holding you by the shoulders, examined your face with loving care, “You always have a lovely face.”

Your weak smile was back, this time a bit stronger than before.

“How about we go and wash your face and I’ll make a snack for you. Then you’ll feel like a brand new person.”

You nodded, feeling how raw your face and eyes were. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

Howl smiled, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for you. “Think nothing of it sweetheart. It’s the least I can do for the person who holds my heart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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