#it can be so easy to misinterpret shit

[fr3aklike-me]

getting to know someone on text when they're not an expressive texter is so--

[bumblingbabooshka]

Amanda Grayson with her Hubby and Stepson

[urhoneycombwitch]

mean mouth

foreword: and if I said Eddie liked when you talked a lil' mean to him. what then. n e ways. just a little exploration of his early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master. 

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.” 

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious. 

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering. 

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard. 

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats. 

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness. 

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls. 

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire). 

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space. 

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again. 

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with  “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink. 

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand. 

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink. 

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night. 

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue. 

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place. 

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips. 

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth. 

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse. 

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks. 

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.” 

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat. 

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep. 

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room. 

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin. 

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.” 

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

[lavendertales]

Hi hi hi 🥰🥰🥰 any thoughts on writing a fox on reader and Joel Miller where they have an age gap (obvs) maybe reader is a friend of Tommy’s and Joel is a bit protective over her but they end up fucking and the whole time he’s trying to shut her up from the clickers by covering her mouth, choking her but at the same time talking dirty etc etc I’ll let you live out your thotty imagination with this one xoxo

Hiii love, thank you for the request! Well this one was... phew 🥵 hope you enjoy!

Where you belong || Joel Miller x f!reader**

summary: who would've thought one of Tommy's good friends would have such an impact on Joel?

word count: 2k

WARNINGS: this is FILTH. age gap mention, teasing, some dirty talk, mutual pining, male & female masturbation, choking, unprotected piv, vaginal fingering.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @pajamasecrets

Stubborn and harsh as he may be, Joel Miller knows how to appreciate some of the finer things in life.

A good song, a fine illustration, a movie that sticks with him for a while… and then there’s you.

Tommy’s made it clear that you were a close friend of his and Maria’s, and Joel respected that. He stayed within the limits of respect, never crossing the border. But he did enjoy the occasional sneak peek at you, always when you weren’t looking.

He’s not sure why. It just always felt… easier. Just watching you from afar and keeping things cordial between the two of you was always the easy and safe option, as opposed to actually caring too much.

Caring meant loss. And Joel had enough of that. He just needed something nice for a change. Something good, something that wouldn’t be tainted by the threat of harm.

Perhaps that’s why he’d grown so fond and so protective of you. Being significantly older than you was certainly another reason why he preferred to keep his infatuation for you at bay, but it also gave him a reason to be your unspoken protector. You didn’t ask for it, yet he simply provided it. For that, you were beyond grateful.

And frustrated, too.

Particularly on this hot summer evening in Jacksonville, when you were out checking the perimeter for raiders or infected, and you used every excuse imaginable to establish physical contact with Joel: a light grip on his arm when you faked a potential fall, soft giggles at his dry jokes that no one else seemed to get, and being face to face with him with every single opportunity you got. Five, in total. You gazed at him, searching his face for confirmation that he understood why you were doing all that, why you were craving his touch so dearly, and still you failed to see that. Joel remained as hardened as ever, and it only grew your frustration more.

So when you got back into town, throwing your gun on the rocking chair in the corner of your living room, you were surprised to see Joel behind you, footsteps heavy, as if he was angry about something.

“What’s wrong with you?” his thick voice asks.

You turn to him, utterly dumbfounded, almost insulted at the question he just posed. Maybe you misinterpret it, too, but hell if you give a shit right now.

It’s been months since Joel’s caught your eye, months of sneaky glances and wishful thinking, and closing onto three years without the intimate touch of another human being.

It’s too much. In this moment, all feels overwhelming.

“What is wrong with me?” you emphasize the pronoun. “What is wrong with you?! Have you not noticed me around you for the past, I don’t know, two hours?”

“Sure I have, how can I not?”

You scoff, hands on your hips and licking your lips in frustration. Gesture which does not go unnoticed by Joel, who licks his own in return, awfully tempted in this moment.

“I don’t know, Joel,” you reply sarcastically. “For someone with such great hunting and surviving skills, you sure lack some basic observation skills.”

He frowns, approaching you. “What are you talking about?”

You grow even more dumbfounded, curious whether he’s playing the fool intentionally or if he’s simply playing with you.

“How long have we known each other?” you ask.

“Six, seven months.”

“Seven months. Seven months since you’ve known me, and you still don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“What don’t I know?”

You approach him too, your lips parted to make room for words that refuse to come out. Instead, you breathe through your mouth, your body nearly quivering at the simple, yet overpowering sensation of being so close to him, yet so far.

“What I like and don’t like,” you say in a near-whisper manner. “I don’t like being fooled. I don’t like being played or led astray, and I don’t like guessing. I hate guessing games. I was never any good at them.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

You nod several times, puckering your lips. “Clearly.”

“And what do you like?”

The way he says it, so rich with gruffness and tempting, it’s causing your knees to buckle and your heart to race faster. It’s the first time tonight you think he’s actually teasing you, and you feel heat spreading throughout your body, settling in your nether area.

“A lot of things, actually,” you reply, unable to look away from his full lips.

“Mhm. Like what? Tell me. Use your words.”

Yeah, he’s definitely fucking with you. But it’s all the more enticing.

You don’t tell him, though; you simply reach to press your lips onto his, only for a split second, and then you pull away. You watch his face closely, checking if you have his approval. When he wraps a faintly hesitant hand around your waist and pulls you in to kiss you properly, you melt into his arms, and realize that you do have all the approval in the goddamn world.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen. In a matter of seconds, you find yourself writhing beneath him on the bed, splayed shamelessly by his calloused hands. Under normal circumstances, he’d be a perfect gentleman and ask you out, spend as much time with you as possible, but for the past two decades, Joel lived on the edge, strictly in survival mode. Which means that some relief is all he can allow himself to have.

Your hands hastily undress him, messy just like the kiss you are sharing with him, and your breaths get ragged, as fast and irregular as your heart.

“You don’t know—how many goddamn times I’ve—wanted this…”

Joel’s voice is trembling despite its huskiness, and it causes you to shiver with excitement. The thought of him wanting you this much, this desperately, is getting you wetter with each passing second.

“Never allowed myself to—to want you” he confesses, peppering wet kisses along your jaw while you worked against his belt and zipper.

“Why not?”

“Tommy might kill me.”

“Or Maria.”

He chuckles briefly, prompting the same reaction out of you. You help him out of his jeans and his boxers, your mouth watering upon seeing how hard he is already. It’s beyond flattering, and you’re not sure how much longer you can stay apart from him.

“Thought about you too,” you confess, spreading your legs further so that you are on full display for him.

Joel stares at you in a delirious haze. In the sunset’s gold and red light, he can see the glistening of your pussy, and he swallows harshly. He doubts he’s ever felt this parched in his whole life, the waiting tearing him apart.

“You did?” he asks cheekily, cupping your sex while you gasp in surprise.

“Yes. Oh yes…”

He’s palming you gently, eyes locked on your face and nowhere else. He’s practically working on muscle memory, but it serves him correctly it seems.

“What did you think about?” he demands, drawing circles around your clit.

“Just you… touching me.”

“Like I’m doing now?”

“Yes—I thought about you… while I was touching myself.”

Joel can’t help the grunt that escapes his lips. That sole confession awakens something primal inside of him, something big, roaring in his chest. He pushes with two fingers past your folds now that he feels you wet enough to grant him easy access, and starts pumping in and out while you whine.

“Shh,” he coos you gently. “Easy, baby girl.”

“F-Fuck—“

“From this moment forward, you’re being silent. Not quiet. Silent. Is that clear?”

You bite on your lower lip and frantically nod your head while you palm your own breasts. It feels so good just to feel his fingers inside you, you can’t even imagine more. It’s definitely been a long time for you—presumably for him too—so you are awfully sensitive and needy, but just knowing that this is Joel Miller doing this to you, causing your body to react this way, to arch under his touch and whine from his words, it’s making you hotter and wetter than anything you could’ve ever imagined.

“Be a good girl for me and shut up, will you?”

He asks too softly for you not to obey, and again you nod frantically, unable to utter any words.

Joel’s fingers keep pumping in and out of you, faster and faster, and you do everything in your willpower to not scream. You barely let out a few whimpers, but it seems they get Joel going: you catch a glimpse of him stroking his cock in the process, the sight lewd as fuck. You focus on that while you reach in between your legs to furiously rub your clit while Joel’s fingers fuck into you, and his own hand is curled around his cock. Breaths ragged and in tandem, you work on each other to climb the ladder of ecstasy.

“Fuuuuuck—“you mutter, mouth in the perfect O shape as you feel your orgasm fast approaching.

“Keep your mouth shut, baby girl,” Joel reminds you, abruptly pulling out his fingers, now sticky as he takes them to your mouth, and you instantly suck on them, having a taste of yourself.

You don’t hide the disappointment on your face upon feeling empty, especially when you see that he’s not even jerking off anymore.

“There could be clickers around,” he seemingly justifies his command.

“We checked the area. There are none.”

“There are plenty of reasons for you to keep your mouth shut, darlin’. Or do you need me to find another use for it?”

You smirk. “If you want to.”

He doesn’t, though. That’s not for tonight, he thinks. Not when you’re both so worked up and needy. He wraps his hand around his weeping cock, almost ready to explode at how hard he is, and guides himself to your entrance. Muttered cuss words fill the room from both of you, said like a chant on repeat with the first roll of his hips against yours. Your pussy swallows him whole, and he watches mesmerized as you take all of his cock in, coating the hair at the base with your juices. He doesn’t waver with the pace: it’s fast and hard from the second thrust. He slams his hips into you, your wanton cries musically pleasing to his ears.

It’s only then that he wraps his hand around your throat, putting an end to any words you might’ve wanted to say. You only moan at him as he’s fucking you speedily, needy, with a fury you’ve only seen him use in combat.

“Do you fuckin’ know—what you do to me?” he grunts, the impending sensation of his release overcoming him. “Do you, hm? Look how full you are… stuffed with my cock… good girl, just like that…”

With a bit more pressure applied to the grip over your throat, you moan as you come, coating his cock with your arousal. The sensation of your walls trapping him inside you is the final click for Joel when he comes too, pulling out and painting the filthiest painting over your swollen pussy and thighs. His warm seed is all over your lower area, and there’s so much of it, you wonder how long exactly it has been for him since he’s last felt relief.

Breathless, you reach for him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him tenderly, a stark comparison to the rough way you were being handled just a few seconds before.

“Do you know what you are doing to me, Joel Miller?” you cheekily ask after a while.

“Think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

You both chuckle, the sound shared only between the two of you, in your bed.

It’s the first time in months Joel gets a good night’s sleep. And the first time in months since he’s laughed. All because of you.

[eccentricallygothic]

pedri smut 🙏🏼, maybe female reader being turned on by his red cheeks after training

i really hope you like it, sorry if it sucks. requests are open <3

| Miscommunication |

Pairing: Boyfriend!Pedri | Girlfriend!Reader.

Warning(s): Post practice angry/frustrated Pedri, minor argument but it's really mild, unprotected p-in-v sex, angry sex(?), doggy style, hair pulling, choking, nipple play, spanking, mature language. Minors do not interact. 

It's not usual that Pedri comes home from practice -or a game for that matter- agitated. Since the workouts, warm ups and then the games themselves help him vent his frustrations out and clear his mind, it is very rare for him to come home with any residual of such baggage.  

Gavi is a friend– or rather, brother that your boyfriend fully trusts and even adores. 

But one thing you can all mutually agree on is that he's one frustrating piece of shit. 

Always keeping his teammates on edge by taunting them with the most infuriating of things is his specialty. And that's exactly what he's done today. 

But you're so caught up with Pedri's flushed cheeks that as you bite your lip and fuck him with your doe-like eyes all wanting and awestruck, you fail to take notice of how irritated he is.

His ire is so grave and he is so busy wallowing in the buzz of his anger that he doesn't even notice you at first. It is only when he roughly closes the fridge and makes you jump up with a whimper from your position against the doorframe as you hug it with the tip of your thumb stuck between your teeth. 

"What?" Pedri makes it a point of never subjecting his athletic or even personal frustrations out on you for he loves you too much. But he just can not help the mean edge today. 

You simply shake your head as you nuzzle your face against the wooden frame. Were it not for your excited little part buzzing the way it is, you would have felt hurt and perhaps even called him out on it. 

But his red cheeks, ticked jaw, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead as you had already noticed that he did not shower before coming home, his damp pinnie clinging to his body and dark eyes narrowed down at you like you were nothing more than prey, fingers curled around the cap of the drink he had helped himself to but frozen in their tracks as he waited for you to dare. 

"Say it" the firmness of his tone scalds his own tongue but he misinterprets the wanton in your eyes with pity and dismissiveness. "Don't make me repeat myself" the rather uncharacteristic demeanour -for he prefers to be a tender lover- only worsens the conditions of your cotton shorts. 

"You… m- must be tired, babe" that just pushes him over the edge and he stomps the unopened bottle down on the counter. 

"Now, what does that mean?" The way his biceps flex as he crosses his arms over his chest has you licking your lips while you ogle at them. 

He takes it as you avoiding his eyes. 

"It's really okay, babe" you try to reassure him in your lust-stricken voice. Pedri mistakes it for a polite jeer. 

"No" he decides for the two of you. "Now it's not okay" you are about to grind against the doorframe and probably give yourself away but his stern voice pulls you out of it. "Come here" one demanding finger points to the spot in front of him. 

You are usually not so easy to control or push around but you comply without another word today; too caught up in the fire between your loins. 

"Tell me, what is it?" His words sound so commanding you can't help but bite your lip and rub your thighs together. 

But you're an understanding girlfriend. "Honey" you reach to caress his thick dark hair away from his forehead. "It's okay, really. You must be tired, it can wait–" you gasp when he sharply snatches your wrist in his warm fingers. 

"What, you think I can't do it?" You whimper. It's so hard to focus and hold back as it is. 

Your boyfriend's stubbornness on top of all that is not helping the situation. 

You roll your eyes. "You don't even know what I–"

"Oh, so now you think I can't tell what you're feeling?" You sigh. 

"Pedri, relax" although that does you literally no help for he looks even more offended now. "It's not a competition. You're not on the field anymore–"

"Oh, okay" he lets go of your hand to cross his arms again. "So now I can't differentiate between the field and outside it?" 

"I didn't say that!" The way you mirror his posture before giving him an incredulous laugh makes him feel stupid. "All I am saying is–"

"That I can't tell what you're feeling because I am too incompetent to do so and you're just being nice about it!" You are too amused to get riled up because you know it isn't coming from anything and is just annoyed athlete rubbish. 

"Okay, Pedri" your chest swells as you take in a deep breath, a smile hanging off your lips. "Tell me, what am I feeling?" His red cheeks are too endearing for you to be mad at him. 

"I could see that spot all the way from over where you were practically trying to fuck yourself against the doorframe" what happens next -which is, in the blink of an eye- causes your eyes to widen as you gasp, turning your head to peek back at your boyfriend over your shoulder. 

"Tell me, little girl" your eyelashes flutter as your eyebrows knit together only for their position to fluctuate once every few moments while his fingers caress your sides. "Do you think I am not capable of taking care of you after work?" Your body is in a sandwich between his and the counter as his lips move against the shell of your ear. 

"N- No, Pedri…" Your voice is heavy with need as you grip the counter, craning your head back to grant him more access to your neck that he is peppering with pecks now. "I- I meant tired– ah!" Your back arches when his teeth press down on a hickey, fingers pinching your nipples at the same time. 

"Oh, so you think I can't help my girl out if I am tired?" His palms caress your boobs as he begins to suck a new lovebite into your skin. "How dare you?" The harsh whisper is accompanied by the coming undone of your poor shorts as they come off your soaking lower half in tatters within the next second. "Sorry to say, little girl. But you're in some big trouble now" his fingers creep to your front and you hiss when they dip between your legs, causing your body to involuntarily bend forwards. 

"Oh, Pedri!" He has always been vocal about how great he feels knowing that even the smallest of touch from him sends you in a frenzy. 

"Cute" he remarks as his rough digits intrude your petals to press against your flesh that literally throbs in heavy pounds now. "Bending like the silly little slut that you are for me already, huh baby?" Your hole clenches around the unsatisfying empty air as you feel the pads of his fingers glide up and down your slippery folds. 

"Please, Pedri… please!" Your thighs quiver as you gulp, biting your lips in anticipation while he takes his sweet time enjoying the feeling of your balmy core.

"Please, what?" When you whimper and moan at the feeling of his fingertip circling your entrance and began to grind against his hand instead of responding to him, Pedri's free hand comes to wrap around your throat. "I asked…" His own eyelids tremble as he squeezes just a little bit, nose burying in your hair to inhale your scent. "Please, what?" 

"Please…" Your voice turns hoarse due to the way your voice box presses against his palm. "Please…" Your boyfriend hums as he continues to rub your sopping cunt, bringing his hips against yours to create some friction for himself. 

"Go ahead, baby" he refuses to penetrate until you say what he wants you to, as always. "You're doing so good for me. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you" a soft plop sounds against the floorboards when your creamy arousal spatters against it. Pedri chuckles and the vibration of his chest against your back makes you moan. "Oh, sweetie. Aren't you precious, always getting all worked up like it's your first time" you can't take it anymore because of how painfully both your holes blink at his dirty words. 

"Please, Pedri! Please fuck me" you beg out in between your whines, nearly stomping your foot when you try to reach for his finger with your slit but he denies you the penetration you so desperately need yet again. "Please!" 

His hand leaves your throat to relieve himself of his shorts. "And how do you want me, baby?" 

"Like this," you respond almost immediately, desperately pushing your ass back into his bulge to attempt relief, "in me… A- Anyhow, really! I don't care. Just please fuck me!" You don't have to tell him twice for his own resolve is faltering today. 

"So needy for me, aren't you, baby?" The relaxation in his tone as he aligns himself against your entrance is sign that you have successfully boosted some of his ego, both hands carefully holding your sides to keep your body under his the way he preferred. 

"Always, Pedri!" Your back arches as you moan loudly, going flat against the counter as you rest your head sideways, fingers gripping the edge of the marble top. His hips retreat from yours to mirror the action again and the loss of cock has you whining in disapproval.

"Only for me, right?" He grunts as his hips sink against yours and he bottoms out, the length of his rock hard wood filling you deep. 

"O- Of course!" You moan out breathily, your calves trembling as you try to aid his thrusts that have begun the search of a rhythm. Although you both know that this position always leads to the most vile of fucking the two of you are capable of. "Only you, babe!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his stiff tip hits that tender spot at the end of your cavern. 

"Good girl" one of his hands now wrap around the length of your hair, causing your head to tilt back as your ass cheeks jiggle with his thrusts that are speeding up by the passing second. One perk of dating a footballer was definitely his impressive stamina. You considered yourself a particularly daring lover but Pedri easily outlasted you in a battle of endurance. "Good fucking girl" you jumped when his other hand harshly came down on your ass. 

It was the first of many to come tonight. 

"Oh, Pedri!" It amazed even you just how dirty he could make you sound. 

"Louder!" Your body slid up and down the marble while a slap resounded against your ass with each thrust. 

"PEDRI!" The speed of his thrusts indicated that he wasn't even near to being done with you for the day. 

"That's right" he pulled the upper half of your body up and against him by your hair before his flushed palm reached for your throat again. "Remember that" and to help you with it, he kept you at screaming it for the next few hours. 

unedited because it's 3am and I've class at half past 8am. do let me know what you think <3 

[aures-fantasy-nook]

Hobbit/LOTR characters when their s/o is upset with them

yes i'm reusing this trope and i dont care its easy-- also lmk if u want more characters and which onessss :3

requests are open (seriously please give me ideas)

Thorin

honestly

his reaction is so dependant on when you're upset with him

if its during the journey he will notice right away

he refuses to go to bed angry at each other

he makes time for you guys to talk every night

if its during his dragon sickness bit

yeah

no

he doesn't give a single shit

telling him that you're upset doesn't even do anything except make him mad

like you're wasting his time

AND

not looking for the stone so like

what the fuck are you doing

if we're talking like after the war

everybody lives au ofc

it probably takes him a little while to notice that you're upset if you don't flat out say anything

he's just slightly busy rebuilding a kingdom

honestly when he does notice or when you tell him

he feels bad

he decides it's time for a break

even if it's just for an hour or two

will take you through the halls just to talk through things

or he'll sit and have tea with you

honestly whatever you wanna do he's down

you are his only priority

if only for an hour

Fili

i would say that he's probably pretty in tune with your emotions

hes a sweet dwarf

will make you tea because he knows your upset

sometimes forgets that hes a little shit

like doesnt realise that things he does can make people upset

let alone you

right over his head

you will have to sit him down and talk with him

he will feel bad immediately

will apologize

offers to make it up to you in any way he can

I feel like if this happens after like the battle and the reclaiming of his future kingdom

he might be a bit busy

but he wants to sit and talk to you every night before bed

even if its just for a few minutes

so when you went to bed without him one night

oh he knows he messed up

theres no way to misinterpret that

will wake you up with kisses and apologies

even if he doesn't know what he is apologizing for

hes just a big sweetie

Kili

sweet boy

another kind of clueless one

id assume that you probably get upset at him sometime during the journey

while yes he is sweet

he can be kind of neglectful without meaning to be

he feels like he has to prove himself to his uncle because he is different from the other dwarves.

has a lot on his mind

i feel like he deffo neglects your relationship at times bc of it

which is why you pulled back

not pushing for affection as much as you did before

letting him get himself into bad situations

reminding him to eat/sharpen his sword

setting up his bedroll while he goes off to help with camp set up

it takes him a couple days to realize something is off

bc he totally doesnt realize how much you're actually looking out for him

it hits him one night after dinner that his bed roll isnt set up? and its not next to you? and you're already asleep?

wait when did he actually sit down and talk to you last?

doesn't sleep that night, just sits and watches you while thinking back on the past like week

as soon as you wake up he's by your side and asking if you guys could take a walk before the journey starts for that day

you agree

he immediately starts apologizing and explaining himself

i think the best way to deal with it is to like

have a nice sit down and talk it out

maybe not right at that moment but

eventually you guys have a long talk where you both talk about how you're feeling with the relationship and just emotionally and i think that solves a lot

like he lets u know just how insecure he is bc of how different he is

and you can talk about feeling neglected

at the end of it all he promises to put more effort but also wants you to know that you dont HAVE to do all those things for him to notice you/love you

very healthy tbh

[emperor-kumquat]

Fandom, WTF

It's not just X; it could happen here too. My fucking god, a Transformers YouTuber almost did the unspeakable last night because of cyberbullying. Because people who claim they are being heroic are doing such terrible things. And they do it so damn fast.

(The YouTuber is more stable and safe at the moment)

You don't need to know the exact details, but the person made a post on X that was a little iffy. Not discriminatory to anyone, not an inappropriate picture or anything. The kind of thing that SHOULD have led to a discussion to change his opinion. And that's what the some other YouTubers and I did, we talked to him, and he regretted his words and changed his mind. Just like that. So fucking easy.

He wanted to write an apology and tell everyone he understood the issue now, but he was struggling to. His account was reported and suspended over and over. In the end, he did manage to write that apology on X and tell people he changed his opinion. That kind of thing can happen when we act patiently and try to guide people! But before then, other people were DMing him madly on Discord and X to say horrible shit, show gore, tell him to die. People were photoshopping a convicted criminal's face onto his profile pic. Friends severed ties without even talking to him. People doxxed him and someone left him a threatening phone call.

These people probably loved the excuse to do it. They would happily slap a label on someone then act dramatic about it. They pile on the hate because "that creator deserves it", they think.

How can you do any of the above and think you are a good person??

What on Earth happened to giving people the benefit of the doubt? Out of all the ways a statement could be interpreted, why do people choose the most negative instead of the most positive? When drama hits and your friend is involved, how can you leave without at least hearing the other side of the story? How can you forget that you may be harassing someone who has mental health or is neurodivergent?

It's like people love being mad. They want to put a bad label on someone, like some kind of "_ist", "_phobe", or a "p*do". They don't need much evidence before attacking. Here on Tumblr a while back, some people very eagerly wanted to harass me. They called me transphobic. The reality they didn't care to find out: I am trans, I make trans activist videos, I go on the front lines countering anti-trans protests in Canada while getting screamed at by conservatives for hours. Get real. If you are so quick to hate someone and label them, you were probably just eager to misinterpret anything they said to get a chance to be angry. You don't know them and you are not a sensible, fair person. They act like a pack of wolves if they can tell themselves it's justified. It is NOT justified. They should be ashamed. They are just bullies hiding behind a hero’s mask.

[ns-media]

Elaborating on my previous Oda romance/LuNami post

For the ones who read my previous long post analyzing Oda's thoughts on romance in One Piece + LuNami, thank you!

I'd like to elaborate on some things right here in case some people may misinterpret some of my viewpoints on how Oda portrays LuNami. So, one thing I see many LuNami fans point out is that Oda making LuNami subtle in his manga is on purpose, which I do wholeheartedly agree with! While it definitely is intentionally subtle, my post was to point out WHY that is the case, because Oda goes out of his way to show off the more cliché or "obvious" stuff in non-manga material, while the manga basically exclusively contains subtle things, indicating that there is something holding him back from putting this cliché stuff in his main story, which is what 95% of the content Oda makes even comes from. And as I pointed out in the post, I think it's him wanting to appeal to boys. I do think that if it wasn't for that, plus his shyness about romance, that he would put in more obvious cliché things in his manga, as he seems to be doing that for his non-manga material.

Now, this subtlety LuNami has in the manga is what draws many LuNami fans to the ship, which makes a ton of sense no doubt, in the manga it's basically the ship's bread and butter. My post wasn't to say "Omfg stop being subtle forget your audience and put in obvious shit in your manga Oda!" Nope, definitely not. My post was to point out that he truly DOES see LuNami as romantic and the reason I pointed it out in the first place is because it's so subtle in the manga that some people need convincing that the subtleties in the manga are truly LuNami hints and not just something you can dismiss like all the naysayers do.

This is why I talked about the non-canon material so much in that post, to prove how it's obvious that he DOES really like LuNami because of how the non-manga shit is so much more obvious with LuNami hints. Mr. "I think romance is a good idea for Film: Gold" also said "OP is a shounen manga ffs, no romance depicted lmao". Totally different statements, one for his manga, one for an optional movie... hmm, there's no way my post has any sort of validity!

By the way when Oda said "no romance depicted" he's not full of shit or whatever, he clearly refers to obvious romances stories that aren't subtle hints like how he portrayed LuNami in the manga. Every time he mentions romance it's clear he means the obvious stuff, of course I think it's obvious how UsoKaya is basically canon but there's no dedicated romance story between them in the manga.

This predicament that I think Oda is in with making it subtle in his manga and less subtle outside his manga, is why LuNami seems so easy to trivalize for so many people. Because in the manga it's so subtle that people can easily just go "Nah that is not what it means" and in non-manga material it's like "No man it's non-canon bullshit who cares it's not in the manga". But see, these people saying this is exactly what I think Oda wants his boy audience to think! So... good job I guess!

Now, I know that I may seem to be putting in just a bit too much stock into Oda being restricted by his audience, which yeah I do see why you would think so if you happen to think that. However he keeps bringing up his readers, over and over and over AND OVER AND OVER again when nobody even asked him about that, dude.

Some guy asks: "So uhh who does Nami like?" Oda: "Uhh this is for boys and they don't care man"

The guy: Umm... I didn't ask for that but thanks?

Aoyama: "I wouldn't leave if you do romantic stuff"

Oda: "Well shit, PEOPLE seem so supportive of couples huh!?"

You uhh, seem a bit too concerned with the opinions of "people" and there's a bit too much "shounen shounen manga boys boys boys" when NOBODY ASKED YOU to talk about them in your answers for it. How should that not to arouse suspicion in me?

And those 2 examples aren't even the only time he's like that.

Buuut, I think this is all I gotta say... for now I think. I might edit this post to further elaborate on stuff later, no promises but I'll think about it!

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

tumblr is a blessedly siloed website in that it's generally hard to track down what people are vagueing about bc you can't see their likes or who they follow and backreading someone's blog typically requires scrolling through a lot of unrelated stuff. Honestly? I love this because it saves me from the worst parts of myself.

but it does exacerbate a type of internet argument that I find particularly exhausting, which goes kind of like this:

Person A's dash

B: why do people love coffee so much? it tastes terrible

A: I love coffee

B: wow okay I guess it's illegal to dislike coffee?

A: uhhh no one fucking said it was illegal to dislike coffee?? tf?

Person B's dash

C: I love coffee!

B: why do people love coffee so much? it tastes terrible

A: I love coffee

C: fuck everyone who talks shit about coffee

C: coffee haters DNI

C: if you can't appreciate the bean, go to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect $200

B: wow okay I guess it's illegal to dislike coffee??

A: uhhh no one fucking said it was illegal to dislike coffee?? tf?

Person C's dash

A: I love coffee!

D: if you like coffee you suck

A: I love coffee

D: everyone who drinks coffee is a murderer

C: fuck everyone who talks shit about coffee

C: coffee haters DNI

C: if you can't appreciate the bean, go to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect $200

A: uhhh no one fucking said it was illegal to dislike coffee?? tf?

Anyways sometimes you (B or C) will say something very normal and then you'll see a bunch of angry posting about that same topic, so you'll assume (reasonably) that people are responding to what you said.

But it's also entirely possible that there is a real person (D) standing behind you (B) that is being a huge jerk but all you can see is other people (A and C) responding to it.

Or it could be that the person (B) who seems to be defending the jerk (D) is actually defending a completely different position.

If you don't have the context for what someone is responding to, it's very easy to misinterpret what they're saying. And because everyone has a different dash, we are all working with different context. It's really easy to think that your context is universal and everyone else is being completely unreasonable.

So just, idk. The strawman you think people are arguing with might just be a real guy that you didn't happen to see. And vague posting is something that, by its very nature, is going to hit people who aren't the intended target. We are all working with different information and none of us have the complete picture.

[ar3s-r4t-qu33n]

Idfc if he's real or not, he's still worse written than Eddie. Also the problem is in his fans that are making him no guilty, innocent baby and always refering that Coyle/Eddie/Everybody else im outlast are the same. And if you think it'll work, try to compare Walker (with PTSD after war) with Franco (who is just a sicko). Anyway Barbi's simps are way more agressive than any other fans when you say something bad, what's a fact, about a grown ass man. I feel like those people are just little kids who are getting upset after school and shouldn't play the game ;) When I see all those comments with "He'S mY PoOkIE" I'm getting sick... Ya'll should get a brain

Guys look!! I got one!!

You don't deserve a response, because if you were old enough to be playing Outlast, you would be able to figure out that shaming people for (checks notes) liking a fictional character in a horror series? Is plain stupid.

It would also serve you well to maybe do some spell check before you come into my asks like this. I'd take you more seriously if you maybe drafted this one more time, but here we go:

First of all, you don't know me. You can check out my like, five posts and see that only two of em are Franco related and none of them baby him. In fact, I don't think I've seen a post yet by anyone who says "Franco is a sweet, innocent baby who did no wrong" because... That's the point. He's interesting BECAUSE he's done shit wrong. We are playing Outlast. Everyone is complex and awful and interesting. Just because not every post is marked with a little footnote that says "oh by the way everyone, Franco is a bad, bad man 🥺 I don't support his actions, I'm not a Franco defender, I just wanted to draw him being silly 🥺" doesn't mean we're all out here claiming he's a saint. The fact that he's a fucked up lil guy is why we like him. I feel like that's a given with all Outlast characters? But that's just me after being a fan of this franchise for years now, idk, being able to step back and analyse a community to see what they enjoy about something is quite a fun and easy task, I recommend giving it a try instead of coming into "loser nobody who has been on Tumblr for like a week's" asks to complain to me like I can put all the Franco fans in the corner until they learn to interpret characters the way you have decided is objectively correct.

But even if they are "babying" him and apparently ignoring that this is the Outlast series and Franco is a character from Outlast... Oh no! What horror! Someone is misinterpreting a VIDEO GAME CHARACTER what a terrible and unique crime!

Franco "just a sicko" Barbi was abused and neglected by his father, his mother was murdered, and he only ever received affection after he killed someone. But yeah, he was just born fucked up whereas every other Outlast character earned their trauma and the right to kill the player. What a senseless and just untrue take and I'm sure you know that, you just want to complain because that's all you people like to do. You want to feel morally superior over someone because you don't understand why they feel the way they do instead of just moving on and ignoring them like any other sensible adult would. Because who's actually getting hurt if some people think Franco is their lil Pookie? Is it you? Does it cause you psychic damage? Because last I checked, this is the internet. We are responsible for ourselves, so unless somebody is actually hurting anyone...

Block the Franco tag. You are brave enough to type out this whole message to a stranger online and act morally superior because comparing which video game character deserves the right to kill you is THE most mature thing in the world, so you're definitely brave enough to block the tag and move on.

You are responsible for what you see online, but ESPECIALLY on Tumblr, it is so so easy to hide content you don't want to see, and mind your own business. Quite frankly, I don't care if I come across as aggressive here. You came into my asks about a tag/fandom you clearly aren't in trying to act like you're better than the rest of us. That's pretty damn aggressive, wouldn't you say?

This is Outlast. A game about fucked up guys doing fucked up shit, and we love them for it. If that is too much for you, if the mommy issues gangster is too crazy for you but Eddie and Trager and Knoth and Coyle are completely fine, no questions asked? I don't think this series is for you. Sexual horror is a staple of Outlast. Childhood trauma is a staple of Outlast. You can't be shocked when people respond to a new character in a video game they like.

YOU are not better than me because you like Chris Walker and I like Franco Barbi. I can't believe you need to be told this, we are all in the same uncomfortable freakshow cesspit that is The Outlast Fandom, no one is morally good. No one is better than anyone else. You cannot claim moral superiority over any character because at the end of the day, I can point to Wernicke and say with my full chest that he is objectively the worst because he's a literal nazi, and what then? Are you going to tell me that Franco is worse than a nazi? The debate is over, in the list of "who is the worst of these awful people", Wernicke wins hands DOWN. The point is null because EVERYONE SUCKS HERE!!! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!

Is that enough for you? Or are you gonna keep harassing people through your alts or getting your friends to do it? I can go alllllll day, baby, you ain't making me feel bad about my interests in the O U T L A S T fandom, dear GOD, this is ridiculous. Don't fucking condescend me, telling me to "get a brain" you don't KNOW ME, I am a stranger to you, why do you feel comfortable coming onto my blog harassing me about a video game character? That's not a good look for you and now it is immortalised here. Anonymous or not, you still did this. Whoever you are, you typed that out and sent it to a random person you do not know and felt comfortable enough to do so.

That's weird.

[soureggs]

I want to say my opinion on the btd gomenne gomenne fan game , i basicly have no leg to stand on but this is just my view on it

Controversial opinion but

I DONT think anyone is wrong realy in this situation,both sides are vaild.

°its very muddy and ppl try to bring in topics i DONT understand????

*I think ppl often forget alot of the Loud minority of gatos fanbase has sorta parasocial relationship with her since at one point gato was very active in her fanbase offten answering questions on the spot and constantly liking fanart and leaving comments, something not alot of creator's do ( i know the creator of sally face interacts with their own fandom too!)

But bc gatos fanbase is so niche the small amount of ppl assum she approves of everylittle thing or knows about every protect/merch ect She doesn't , it apperse to me shes often the last one to hear the news. If even(?)

( somewhat un related but im using this as an example bc its recent) vvvvvvv

// Very recently a merch creator/ seller said that her version of ren was a. l%li-con and there was some ppl who assumed gato was okay with this. She wasn't lol- i mean gato said multiple times kids DONT even exist in the games plot, BUT because gatos so lenient and open to head canons /spins on her characters thoes ppl assume she approved it \\

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Its also very hard when you make a character and then a person starts writing them using their own head canons or having alot of out of character moments

And a STRANGE AMOUNT of thoes ppl thinking its canon or cant get THAT version of your character out of their head/ fan art /wrighting untill eventually its a fanon

Even WHEN a fangame is a perfect (like said fangane) because one person dose it , some ppl with bad intention will use this as an excuse to make a upsetting fangame and wont REALY get in trouble.

Hell even ppl with good intention could do the same and completely miss interpret the characters yk??

Veteran btd fans saw this years ago -

IM NOT SAYING THE FANGAME CREATOR WOULD EVER DO THAT OR ANYTYING WITH BAD INTENTIONS! :0!! There art is grate and im sure they are LOVELY!

But keep that in mind with Everthing i said above how it might be a reasonable personal rule to have in such a small fandom. Especially if she had bad passed experiences

I think ppl misinterpret her words, not out of malice ! Im sure of it! , but (creating your own game based off my work) is much different than

(Creating a game using my characters and or plot or story)

I belive she ment ( you can make your own muderp%rn dating sim) like courten cowboys or lurking for love , lovers trophy , etc etc ! Maybe her wording was a misstranlation ? Or misinterpreted? , im on the spectrum so i have that problem too sometimes ! And Especially since gatos so flexible and vague its easy to missread /gen

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To be Inspired by a work dosent mean to use the characters or plot, just like referencing when drawing ! Example, OFF and undertail was Earthbound inspired but they both dont use any characters ect OVER THE GARDEN WALL Was inspired by Dante's Inferno! But its not the same characters pulled out and used

I hope that helps/gen

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I personaly believe stuff like that , what happened before and even in other fandom is why gato has that particular rule about not wrighting her characters at length. Not wanting to take the risk of someone miss using her characters again! /lh

I think its odd that ppl can Wright about sans undertail doing some weird ass shit and ppl dont scream about how toby fox approves of it . but they do for gato for some reason? ( if you could let me know why pls do ! )

" well ren was giving to gato so its not even hers"

That argument is silly to me, ren was giving as a gift, when you give a present to yourfriend is it yours anymore?? When a person buys an adoptable is it still the sellers?

Its not like gatos shy when saying she didnt creative ren, she was given him and modified him and still lets ppl know she didnt crate him .

Some of them use that as a talking point to say that said fangame creator is fine using that character in particularly as if hes free use, i DONT understand as someone who sells characters /designs(?)

( if you could explain i would appreciate it!)

The fangame devs are very talented the game seems fine from what i hurd! They did take creative liberties but its still very much gatos characters, I think they where respectable with them even in the contex of said game! . But i find it weird that the post says fanart for their fan game is appreciate ( at least in the English post i found prompting it) fan art of a fan game is confusing and i see how some ppl might mix the two up! Know?? like what would even be the tags? 'Sorrysorrybtd?' :0 So i can see how that could be another reason for the rule!

°I acknowledge and am so grateful that the artist. And devs worked so hard on the game and assets , im sure alot of ppl are as well! And im 100% sure it wasn't their intention to upset gato or anyone in that matter at all!

they are NoT obligated to apologize, maybe not make a second game out of respect(?) But thats their prerogative! They can do it , they wield the power yk?

BUT HARASSING ANY OF THE DEVS INVOLVED IS SO so so WEIRD???????

And making dramatic posts about it as well - it just rubs me the wrong way. Especialy using this as a opportunity to disrespect gato and ONE of her only rules she has for this very odd ( positive) fanbase. its kinda a little silly in my opinion . NOT to mention harassing the other game devs - this might make them not want to make any other games at all in the future ! D:

Please know i dont mean anything in this post to be upseting or malicious in anyway, i honestly think no one this fangane drama had any bad intentions or would do anything to upset anyone on purpose! I know its very high tension. And i would be upset too if a fangame i worked SO hard on with characters i love was met with disapprove instead of praise. And this is to say -this could have ben done better on gatos part. Thos could've ben done in privet imp

BUT im not gato , im not the other devs. im not in the positions to say ' i would've done this' bc ive never ben in that position, ive never had to deal with anything like this. So i wouldnt know what ild do in that moment ! And i think alot of ppl also forget that with all devs involved

We are all vary passonat in this fandom. But please dont start burnning bridge's over this! :'3 this fandom is already so devided due to all of our strong personal opinions it dosent realy need to be a. ' pick your side ' thing i dont think..

I am relatively new to the fandom, so i DONT know much about the past dramas srounding it, so if yall have anything youll like to say or add or educate me on PLEASS let me know and i will retract any of thoes statements !

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

There's exactly one problem I have with the concept of 'friends warning friends' in the RPC, and it's this: anyone can say anything when they're in private where they know the subject can't defend themselves. It doesn't matter if 'evidence' is provided; you realize how easy it is to fake things or take screens out of context these days? You're in the RPC. Everybody and their cousin knows how to use photoshop. Don't be fucking gullible.

'B-b-but they're my friend, they'd never mislead me!!' Until one day they do. People change, and not always for the better. And sometimes they're just very, very, VERY good at covering up their true intentions. You really think a bully's friends realize they're friends with a bully? Of course not. Every ringleader's cronies think they're friends with the right people. I guarantee that if you think you're so much smarter and can just tell based on 'vibes,' you're probably not. The most dangerous people in the RPC aren't the ones who wear their cruelty on their sleeve; they're the ones who know how to get away with it and still look like the hero and/or victim. They've learned that the winners write the history books, and over the years they've gotten very, very good at making sure they always win.

And even when the intent isn't consciously malicious, I'm gonna tell you a secret: a lot of people in the RPC are insanely ableist against any mental illness they don't share, and sometimes even against each other too. Any symptom of neurodivergency is a 'red flag' and they'll twist it every which way to make it so. These are the people that'll pounce all over someone with anxiety and then screen-grab what they say in the midst of a panic attack, or keep needling someone autistic until they say something that can be misinterpreted, dogpile someone with a mood disorder in a group chat to force them to fight back, or what-have-you. You don't know what your 'friend' did before those screens were taken. Blind trust doesn't make you loyal, it makes you a chump ripe for the picking.

Have a healthy dose of skepticism and ALWAYS ask yourself: is this NECESSARY? Is this person actually DANGEROUS, or would their behavior be better explained as a sign of neurodivergence? Am I likely to even actually cross paths with this person, or is this 'warning' just an attempt to witch-hunt a stranger? Does this happen often? If this friend has a new enemy every week, what aren't they telling me?

If doing right by a stranger doesn't matter to you, then think about it like this: do YOU want to get taken advantage of? Are you okay with being complicit to bullying campaigns and actively aiding in the systematic isolation of a victim? Does it bother you to be weaponized against other people by those you trust? If the answer to ANY of these is no, please for the love of god stop just going with the crowd. If the 'evidence' wouldn't be acceptable for a public callout, it shouldn't be enough to warrant a private one either. The consequences are the same; there's no moral high-ground here. The only difference is that in private, the victim can be safely dismantled and defused before they even know they're under attack. It's cyberbullying for cowards, plain and simple.

Sincerely, someone who's seen this high-school-mean-girl shit too many times across too many different communities to ever take it at face value anymore. Stop being the reason that these bullies win.

[apuckishwit]

"What the HELL are you wearing?"

Steddie ^^

A continuation of this (hope OP doesn't mind, but it fit so nicely!)

“What the hell are you wearing?” Steve—shit, Eddie should probably find out his last name if he’s going to be following this guy back to Paris…and also asking him back to his hotel room after the show—calls as they enter the charming little chateau he’s staying at. Seriously. It looks like something out of a fairy tale—ivy covered walls, a beautiful garden full of flowers and vegetables, a snowy white cat perched on the fence. If you looked up the phrase ‘charming little chateau’ in the dictionary, there would probably be a picture of this place right next to it.

Eddie peeks around Steve’s shoulder (it’s only polite to wait to be invited inside, it has nothing to do with him wanting a longer look at that enticing ass in those jeans) and for a moment, his heart sinks. There’s a woman around their own age standing in the—charming—living room, bathed in sunlight from the wide picture windows. There’s nothing particularly offensive about her outfit…except for the neon purple beret perched on her head. She’s got a huge canvas set up on an easel in front of her, the floor covered by drop cloths and paints, brushes, and other tools covering every flat surface. She’s pretty, in an off-beat kind of way—not as classically attractive as Steve, to Eddie’s eyes, but pretty all the same, and Eddie can sense the easy familiarity between the two as Steve drops his bag of purchases by the door and saunters into the living room. He plucks the beret off the woman’s head, examining it with a look of disgust and dodging nimbly when the woman reaches to snatch it back.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, has he misread this whole situation? Or, Christ, is he about to be invited to a threesome or something? He doesn’t think he’s been misinterpreting the looks Steve keeps casting at him, but he does not feel like awkwardly turning down some hot young couple trying to be adventurous…particularly as he’s kind of depending on them to get him back to Paris in time for the show.

Then he takes a closer look at the woman.

“Holy shit, you’re Robin Buckley!” he exclaims, drawing her eyes to him. They immediately go as wide as his feel.

“Holy shit, you’re Eddie Munson!” she gasps.

Well. At least he knows Steve didn’t bring him back here with the intention of having a threesome.

Steve freezes, glancing between them with a—still unfairly attractive—frown. “You two…know each other?” he asks slowly.

“I mean…not personally?” Eddie says. “Just—oh my God, I love your art! My best friend is obsessed with you!” he can’t help gushing. Robin Buckley is a darling of the international art scene—her portraits and paintings in demand in galleries all over the world. Eddie would kill to have some of her art on one of their album covers.

Chrissy is going to die of jealousy when she hears about this. She’s been nursing the worst crush on Robin Buckley for going on two years now. Ever since she saw the woman speak at a charity gala dedicated to raising money for art scholarships for LGBT+ youth.

“My art! Dude! I love your stuff. Holy fuck, the Touchstone album was on blast 24/7 while I was painting my last triptych!”

Steve has moved further into the living room and is examining Buckley’s canvas with interest. At Robin’s words, he looks back at Eddie, arching an eyebrow. “You’re a—singer?” he asks, obviously guessing. Eddie ducks his head down, biting his lip a little.

“Something like that,” he says modestly. Buckley cackles.

“Oh my God! Dingus! How do you go out for booze and come back with the freakin’ lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin? What is your life?” She points a paintbrush covered in yellow paint at him, causing him to dance backwards with a laugh that is fucking musical to Eddie’s ears.

“I don’t know who that is! No offense,” he tosses over his shoulder at Eddie, “he was trying to ask that clerk in the cheese shop for help finding the train station.”

Buckley nods sagely. “In English?” she asks Eddie.

Eddie nods sheepishly. “Didn’t go so well. Thank God Stevie here was in line behind me.” He notices Steve’s cheeks go a little pink at the pet name, and can’t help but smile. He hopes he gets to see how far down that blush goes tonight.

Buckley hums, her eyes flicking between him and Steve before they go a little sly. “Stevie,” she says, sidling a little closer to her friend. She glances at Eddie again. “Voulez-vous coucher avec lui?” she asks with a smirk.

And look. Eddie doesn’t speak French. Gareth made him memorize how to ask where the bathroom is, order a beer, and tell someone to fuck off (just for funsies) and he has a handful of other helpful phrases written down phonetically in his lyric notebook. However, Chrissy blasts Lady Marmalade every time it comes on the radio and he knows damn well what Buckley just asked Steve.

Steve shoots him a sly little side-glance, looking him up and down in a way that has heat blooming in Eddie’s gut. “Oui,” he says, tossing Eddie a little wink. Eddie kind of wants to fist pump.

Buckley laughs again, sounding delighted. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell Dustin about this. He’s going to die!”

Steve shakes his head. “Rob, I swear to God, if you tell Dustin about this, you can walk back to London next week.”

“Pfft, like I can’t buy my own plane tickets. Worth it!” she singsongs before whirling back to Eddie. “I am so delighted to meet you, Eddie Munson…would you like to join us for lunch, or do we need to get you back to Paris, like, ASAP?”

He glances at the—very charming—clock sitting on the mantle behind Buckley’s easel. He’s not due at soundcheck for another few hours and Steve said the city was only about an hour and a half train ride. Besides. Chrissy has been so good to him over the years—she truly is his best friend as well as their manager. He owes it to her to put in a good word with the woman she’s been pining over, doesn’t he?

“I could eat,” he says. “Gotta keep my energy up for tonight,” he says, making direct eye contact with Steve as he says it. That delightful flush sweeps over Steve's cheekbones again.

Seriously. Wandering around the French countryside. Best. Decision. Ever.

[weebsinstash]

I’m not seeing enough love for our douchebag loser Adam 😢 like this man is the original dick 😂

No but really I love/Hate him. Like he is such a bully and a loser, I wanna punch him just as much as I want him to degrade me. Like I saw a bit of art on TikTok earlier where under his robe he was like lithe kind of like Lucifer and was like damnnnn

But just imagine your a newly ascended soul, you somehow made it to Heaven, and he’s like instantly into you. And you’re all blush and such because shit this is Adam, this is the first man, and he’s kinda charming if you squint and look sideways. But then the glamour fades after a while and you like kind of ghost him? And he’s like what the fuck? But you’ve had plenty of practice at avoiding asshole exes when you were alive so hiding from this asshole isn’t too hard, it’s easy to get lost in Heaven, but damn if he doesn’t like it when you play hard to get.

Girlie when I say I fuckin GOTCHU

I can definitely finish up that post and publish it so I'm not discussing the same exact ideas twice but, ugh god yes he would definitely be one of those "you're playing hard to get" guys who can't take a fucking hint, like literally cannot conceptualize that he's being an off-putting rude invasive creep and is just either completely unaware or in complete denial of your obvious massive dislike of him

Ok like. You know how it was a joke in Helluva Boss that there are no HR departments in Hell because it's Hell. What if the other side of that coin is.... Heaven ALSO doesn't have HR departments "because we're all so happy and get along, we don't need them!"

You go to an angel implying that ADAM THE FIRST MAN is being inappropriate with you and they'd either completely brush you off and act like his behavior is totally acceptable (because they're so used to it) or they straight up don't believe you. You go to SERA and she'd knowingly and intetionally fucking GASLIGHT YOU that you must be misinterpreting his intentions (you arent) and that Adam would neeEeever hurt anyone or force himself onto you (he would). Like, Sera? THAT bitch? She would hand you over to Adam just to get him to stop acting so fucking rowdy if she mildly THOUGHT it would help him do his duties better

Just hope that this guy doesn't have any weird abusive complexes about making partners obey because of his wives leaving him which definitely 😉 isn't a real possibility 😉 he Definitely wouldn't consider hiding you away because that way no one else can steal you away or poison your mind or convince you to leave him, and, well, if you start acting out, well.... HE'S the man in this relationship! He's allowed to just, make the decision of what to do with you since that's basically what he was CREATED FOR, right? To be the provider, the hunter, the gatherer?

So you won't be subservient to him? Well, that fuckin sucks ass, but he can work with that! Obviously as a REAL MAN he can find solutions for anything! ... and his solutions totally don't just boil down to isolating you somewhere like a little kid with a toy who is refusing to share.... totally not... that wouldn't be very masculine at all... totally not radical...

[dingodad]

Do you think it's an issue with hussies writing that so many people misinterpreted classpects this way or do you thinks it is just a lack of media literacy?

i wouldn't say classpect theory as we know it is the result of media illiteracy necessarily... being able to recognise that fantasy concepts like breath magic and light magic can have more than just literal meanings is a pretty important step along the path to deepening your understanding of literature. so it's easy to see why analyses along the lines of "john and tavros are both associated with the same motif and share some key character quirks, so this motif must be in some way symbolically linked with those character quirks" come across as really profound when you're young and/or just starting to get into seriously engaging with literature as a hobby.

this interpretation of homestuck isn't WRONG by any stretch, it's just kind of very juvenile, surface-level stuff. "everyone in the world is associated with one of 12 symbols that determine not only what magical powers they'll have but also the role they play in society" isn't really a thematic statement, is it? it's worldbuilding, which is not a thematic end in and of itself. classpect theory, at least to my eye, seems to want to dwell eternally on the "what" without ever taking the scary step into "why" territory. so it's really really good for writing fanfiction but not very useful at all as a lens for figuring out what homestuck is actually about.

and again, that's fine, your engagement with homestuck can be formulating the best ways to write fanfiction if you want it to be. it's just that homestuck is also really fucking long and at the end of the day it is easier for 99% of people 99% of the time to just read Posts instead of actually rereading homestuck; so if you spend 10 years not reading the comic and instead formulating your understanding of it based on Posts you're obviously going to come out with a skewed understanding of what it was trying to say. i think hussie communicated everything they wanted to communicate about classpects and that was enough to effectively communicate the vision; it's just such a huge decade-spanning vision that it's simply not realistic to expect everyone to give a shit about it. they're going to focus on the parts they like, just like i focus on the parts that i like and which generally tend not to include classpect stuff.

i just hope that maybe one day, if i make enough Posts, i can make everyone's favourite homestuck thing the same as my favourite homestuck thing, as opposed to the other favourite homestuck thing, which is wrong

[kcwriter-blog]

Let’s Talk Solas on the Balcony

A comic in which Solas and a Qunari Inquisitor discuss his views on the Qunari people is making the rounds. Per usual, it is sparking conversations and arguments about whether Solas is a racist piece of shit or not. I don’t think people’s opinions can be swayed one way or another at this point, so I’m not going to try.

What I want to talk about is the diffculty Weekes would have had writing this scene, the contradictory nature of the balcony conversation with banter, and the fact that Solas may not be entirely wrong (although he shouldn’t have said it that way).

The writing. I’m going to use the Qunari balcony conversation because it’s the most egregious, but all conversations Solas has with an Inquisitor of any race are problematic. I don’t think the intention was to cast Solas as a racist. I could be proven wrong in The Veilguard, of course, but for now, let’s say that was not the intention.

Weekes had the Herculean task of writing the “loyalty” conversation that happens after every companion quest is successfully completed. That isn’t an easy thing to do when the character is hiding the kind of secrets Solas is and who might not be feeling particularly loyal at the time.

The writer must show that Solas has doubts about his plan based on his observations of a single person – the Inquisitor. Weekes must show that Solas is looking for anything he can cling to, to justify his plans. They must show Solas’ growing admiration for the Inquisitor – in some cases against his better judgement. They must show that Solas is only just beginning to realize these people are real and destroying them would make him a monster. They must do it all without giving away the stinger. Not easy and very open to misinterpretation.

I love Weekes as a writer but even they can miss the mark. Solas has a tendency to say whatever is on his mind in the most socially awkward way possible. Probably because he spent 4,000 years conversing only with spirits. I love Cole but imagine spending that long in a place where everyone talks like that. Also Solas' first language is Elvhen, a conceptual language that is much more fluid than the common tongue. He's trying to express complicated thoughts in a language that isn't his. Again the writer has not and probably can't give us this context.

What Solas says on the balcony contradicts his banter. This could be because of the way banter triggers. It’s possible that banter was meant to trigger after the balcony conversation to show the growth of the character. But let’s look at it.

In an exchange with Bull Solas defends Tal Voshoth. Bull calls them savages and says they are sick. Solas says they aren’t. They are victims of a sociopolitical system that denies them agency so when they gain it, they don’t know what to do with it.

If you save the Chargers, Solas is the person that helps Bull through his concerns that without the Qun he will turn into a mindless beast. My family has dealt with enough racism to know that a racist would never do that. Basically, if Solas was a racist, he would absolutely believe Bull is right and he will eventually turn into an animal.

Solas’ problem- as has been stated multiple times - is with the Qun and the fact that most Qunari don’t question the regime they live under. The Qun removes agency from the people. That is anathema to Solas. The problem with the balcony conversation is that this isn’t expressed. Solas seems to be saying he believes that without the Qun all Qunari are savage brutes when he clearly defended all Qunari who have rejected the Qun.

It’s poor writing because it isn’t made clear that this is Solas’ problem with the Qunari. When he says the Inquisitor is different he means that they question the world around them. They don’t take things for granted or mindlessly follow whatever their society dictates. Again, poor writing choices don’t make this clear.

And Solas isn’t entirely wrong. The Qunari aren’t savages but they can be brutal. Most of us have played all three games. We have learned a lot about the Qunari and it isn’t all good.

Their goal is for everyone to live under the Qun. The entire second act of DA2 explores what your average Qunari believes. We must fight through Kirkwall because the Qunari have decided the city would be better off under the Qun. We know that the Qunari treat their mages even worse than humans treat mages. Circles are bad but the Qunari cut out the tongues of their mages, sew their mouths shut and give them personal minders. They are fed a chemical that keeps them pliable (a chemical they feed anyone who is judged to be a problem child as Fenris tells Isabella).

The Qunari don’t have names. They have numbers. Their “names” are just their job descriptions. They can have all the sex they want but when it comes to children there is a breeding program. They are told what jobs they will do. If they don’t do what they are told, they can be made Tal Vashoth or killed. In DA2 we free a Qunari mage who doesn’t want to be free and self-immolates because he feels that’s what he must do under the dictates of the Qun. Most Qunari, even Bull, would rather turn themselves over to re-educators than become Tal Vashoth because they have been told they will turn into savages without the Qun to guide them.

As of Tevinter Nights we know that a subset of the Qunari decided to take the “Path of Blades” to forcibly get other races to submit to the Qun.

Solas would see all of this and hate it. He doesn’t hate the Qunari people - which is an aspect of racism - only what they have become because of the system they live under. The Inquisitor is different, not because they are a special snowflake (they are because they are the hero of the story) but because they don’t believe in the Qun.

The fact that Qunari can throw off what he perceives to be their shackles confuses him and makes him believe that they and possibly Bull aren’t the only ones capable of doing this. That’s not good for his plan. That’s why he wants to know if the Anchor has affected them. He wants to believe they are special because of the Anchor so he can carry out his plan with a clear conscious.

I think this is true of the other conversations with other Inquisitors. The solution to the problem would have been for the Inquisitor to be able to strongly push back against Solas’ comments. Weekes could have then provided some clarity. As it is we get no clarity and people are left with misconceptions.