#especially saint is the victim of this

[wherethelightrots]

I always dislike when people headcannon certain slugcats as genetically engineered, it's so boring and also not the point of rainworld.

[snekdood]

i honestly deserved none of the shit ppl did to me that lead me to this point

[spenceobsessed]

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, smut with a plot

summary: spencer can't help but despise his "replacement", especially during an undercover mission in a nightclub.

MDNI 18+

“this is insane.” penelope garcia mutters on the other end of the phone call. “there’s no way jeffery was able to absolutely take himself off the internet.” she huffs, the keyboard clicking in the background. “i’m gonna keep working. i’ll be back in a jiffy, i swear!” she says sweetly before hanging up.

the unsub, jeffery hogan had abducted then murdered four young women in los angeles california. the team had been in la for three days now, and jeffery had already killed two more women before they could stop him. all of them were getting antsy and a little angry.

you sigh, leaning back in your chair as the rest of the team begins talking amongst themselves, minus spencer, who had been staring at a map for twenty minutes.

“reid.” you say, catching his attention. he doesn’t look up, but you can tell that your voice startled him slightly.

“hmm?” he says, annoyance lacing his tone. you roll your eyes. he had been an absolute dick to you since day one. the whole team had described him as a saint, yet, you couldn’t see it. yes, he was attractive, but that didn’t distract from how hateful he was towards you. plus, you had been nothing but nice to him when you first met him, doing nothing to get on his bad side.

“did you make a connection between the locations?” you ask curtly. he huffs. “i don’t see you doing anything helpful.” he snaps, finally looking up from his map to glare at you.

“spence,” jj begins, joining the conversation unknowingly. “any connections?” he smiles and turns to face her, like you hadn’t just asked the same question.

“the one common location that overlaps with all the crime scenes and significant places in jeffery’s life is the ‘night owl’, a local night club.” reid says, smirking at you when he finishes his sentence like a teenager. you scoff.

emily gives them a look that says “act professional please”.

“we have no idea what he looks like, we only know bits and pieces of his life that garcia could dig up, how are we going to catch him?” matt asks, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, a coffee in hand.

“i could go undercover,” you begin with a shrug. “most of the girls he abducted have been around my age and have my same features.” emily nods in agreement.

“one issue.” rossi says. “the unsub has always abducted women on dates.” you nod. that’s true.

“i could go with you.” matt says, standing up straight and taking a sip of his coffee. you open your mouth to thank him but emily cuts you off.

“no offense simmons, but what if we sent in reid instead? he closer matches y/n’s age and resembles the victims boyfriends more closely.”

spencer opens his mouth to protest but tara cuts him off with a smile. “great idea, you guys should leave in an hour or so, you better start getting ready.”

you watch as reid fights the urge to say something rude, but is quickly whisked away by emily.

jj helps you get ready in another conference room of the precinct, dressing you like the average clubber.

your outfit is a small, tight, red mini dress, with matching heels and accessories. you had to admit, you looked good. you found yourself wondering what they had put reid in and whether he would find you attractive in this tight dress.

“you look amazing.” a voice breaks you out of your trance as you’re putting in an ear piece. you smile, turning to face emily.

“thank you.” you say softly, using your hands to smooth out your dress. “i think i’m ready.” you add, slightly nervous. emily reassures you that you will do great and asks you to follow her outside.

that’s where you’re met with spencer reid. he looks unfortunately handsome, hot even, wearing the most casual “spencer outfit” you have ever seen: corduroy pants, converse, and a white button down. the white button down was sheer linen (very beachy) and allowed you to barely see his chest. you quickly remind yourself that he is in fact a dick, hoping that will somehow make him less attractive.

you watch as his eyes wander your body. emily seems to notice and clears her throat.

“you guys gotta get going.” she breathes out a smirk on her face.

reid walks over to the side of the car. you smile slightly as he opens the door, your smile fading as he slides in alone slamming the door behind him.

“petty bitch.” you mutter. your heels angrily clicking against the asphalt as you walk to the other side of the suv, ripping open the door and sliding in with your arms crossed. you slam the door behind yourself, eyes glaring into the side of reid’s face.

“look,” you begin, your tone angry. “if this is going to work you need to at least try to pretend not to be a fucking asshole.” he scoffs, turning to face you.

“watch your tone.” he says lowly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. your arms are still crossed and you watch as spencer’s eyes go from your face to your tits, then back up again.

you remind yourself that indeed, he's just a man. he may be a genius but behind that, he’s simply just a man with needs. you were going to make tonight hell for him.

you smirk, eyes glaring into his. “do your fucking job and i just might comply, doctor.”

he turns his head away from you, staring out the window, a new type of tension in the air.

“can you guys hear me?” jj says through you ear pieces. “yeah.” reid says, you can hear how angry he is, just through one word.

the team gives you both a rundown and reminds you both of your parts.

“…remember you’re a couple!” garcia reminds you. the team agrees loudly on the line. “yeah,” alvez says. “pretend to like each other for one night.”

“we’ll try, alvez.” you reply as the suv pulls up in front of the busy nightclub.

you look over at reid. “open my damn door and look like you fucking mean it.” you say through gritted teeth. he doesn’t respond as he steps out of the car, shutting his door quietly and makes his way over to your side of the car. he opens your door with a fake smile on his face, putting out his hand for you to grab. you get out of the car, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“grab my waist.” you demand. he huffs under his breath, reaching his large hand to rest on your waist. he leans in to whisper back. “you will not dictate this night. i have over ten more years of experience than you, on this team. you do not get to boss me around, y/l/n.” he says through gritted teeth, pulling away from your ear with a fake smile on his face. you don’t have time to respond as he says; “let’s go, baby.”

the nickname hits you like a brick, especially the way it comes out of his mouth so effortlessly. in an attempt to control your composure, you smile and lean against him as he rubs his hand lovingly across your waist.

you both enter the night club, the mix of bright lights and darkness temporarily blinds you as you grip onto spencer for support.

“don’t respond, but we see you’ve made it inside. go grab a drink from the bar then hit the dance floor.” emily orders. spencer nods, leading you towards the busy bar.

as you approach the bar, the bartender asks what you both want. “i’ll have a club soda with lime.” spencer says, turning his head to look down at you. “what do you want, baby?” he asks, rubbing circles on your waist softly. you smile back up at him pretending like you don’t want to kill him and subtly dig your ass into his crotch. he sucks in a breath.

“i’ll have a vodka soda.” you say with a sweet smile on your face. the bartender nods going to make the drinks.

you look back at spencer, his jaw clenched and his breathing heavy. you set your phone down on the bar and “accidentally” knock it off of the counter.

“oops!” you say dryly, bending down to pick it up, your ass now rubbing against his crotch. you subtly feel something twitch in his pants.

“y/n.” he warns you. you nod innocently. “hmm?” you hum. he moves his hand from your waist. you look back at him to silently scold him, but he quickly uses both hands to push you away from his crotch. he slides his hands down your waist, to your ass, then pulls down your dress in one quick motion. a man standing to his left begins complaining loudly about how he can no longer see your "fattie". you almost thank him, then remember that its fucking spencer you're dealing with.

he doesn’t say anything and simply hands you your drink, leading you away from the bar and the creepy men, to a nearby table.

you bite your lip to hold back hateful words that dare to spill out. you stand in silence, spencer sipping his drink while you chug yours.

"you look miserable." emily says in your ears. "do something." she adds.

"wanna dance, pretty boy?" you ask him, the nickname falling from your mouth accidentally. you pretend like it was on purpose as spencer looks up from his drink, slightly stuttering over his response.

"y-yeah, yeah." he repeats, regaining his composure. he grabs your hand and leads you towards the crowd of sweaty people dancing, only looking back once to make sure you were still there

spencer scans the crowd as he pulls you into his chest harshly.

"i'm not just some doll you can throw around, reid." you yell over the music, sick of his bullshit. he looks you in the eyes and shrugs.

as the song changes, couples around you begin to make out.

"kiss me, reid." you say, realizing the awkward dancing in a crowd of horny couples would defer the unsub's attention. spencer doesn't seem to hear you. "reid." you repeat, his eyes still scanning the room. "spencer." you say, the first time you've ever said his first name to him. this catches his attention. his gaze finally falls to you, his frame towering over yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"i need you to kiss me, spencer."

the usually dick-ish man makes no cocky response. instead, he simply tips his head down capturing your lips in a kiss. the kiss is awkward at first, but quickly turns heated as you press your body against his. his hands, which were loosely on your waist move downward, rubbing circles on your ass and somehow moving you closer to him.

you run your hands through his hair, feeling him moan softly into your mouth. his sweet noises immediately go straight to your now-wet-core. you break the kiss for a second, to catch your breath, your faces still inches apart.

spencer's pupils are blown, his hair is messy, and his lips slightly swollen, tinted red from your lipstick. fuck, you want to devour him.

spencer quickly resumes the kiss, this time you don't have to ask. you easily feel how hard he is already, with his cock pressed against your leg.

you groan softly as you push your tongue into his mouth, eliciting more sweet noises from the handsome man.

"nice job guys, we have a suspect at 3 o'clock." emily says into our ears, reminding us that we aren't alone.

“let’s go somewhere more secluded.” spencer whispers, his breath hot on your cheek. he wants to lure the unsub out. you nod, waiting for him to move. instead his hands are still on your ass, his eyes on you, like he’s taking a mental picture.

“pretty boy.” you say almost inaudibly. “let’s go.” he spins you around so you’re in front now, able to maneuver your way out of the crowd. one of his hands rests on the small of your back protectively as you head towards the back corner of the club, a stark contrast to the way he was treating you less than 10 minutes ago.

“the hypothetical unsub’s eyes are still on you guys but he hasn’t moved, we can’t seem to see his face on camera. you need to get him to move closer.” jj announces in your ears.

“she’s telling us to kiss again.” you whisper. he nods, placing his large hand on your cheek and swiping his thumb across your lips. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into kiss him. he picks you up slightly, just enough to allow you to sit on him as he takes a seat on a random couch.

as he moves from kissing your lips to your jaw and neck, you instinctively begin rocking your hips against his, feeling how hard he is under you.

he groans softly against your neck, his kisses becoming sloppier.

“y/n.” his tone desperate, the use of your first name alarming. “if you keep going i might not be able to maintain professionalism.”

you bite your lip excitedly. “do you want me to stop then, spencer?” his eyes stare into yours, his hands on your hips.

“no.” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him and kissing you again. he moves his hands upwards as his lips move downwards, slowly leaving kisses and rubbing your now-visible nipples through the thin fabric for your dress. you suck in a breath at the new sensation, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“the unsub moved into the light, it’s jeffery. sending alvez and rossi in now to apprehend him. you guys can stand down, nice work.” emily says, startling them slightly. you pull away from spencer, your underwear undeniably wet and your cunt begging for attention. you awkwardly remove yourself from his lap, sitting next to him on the sofa, noticing that in fact he was hard, an outline of his dick highlighted in the odd club lighting. he squirms in his seat slightly, obviously trying to readjust.

“y/n,” he says, noticing your eyes on him. you hum in response, your eyes moving from his cock to his face. “bathroom.” he says simply.

he doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond, simply getting up and leaving the room. you wait for a few seconds, processing his words and attempting to wrap your head around the fact that an hour ago you hated this man and now you were dying for him to fuck you.

a few minutes pass and you make your way to the bathroom where you don’t even knock, you simply walk in. spencer is there waiting. immediately as you enter the bathroom, he locks it, then attached his lips to yours. you moan softly into the kiss, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist. he, however, seems to as other plans as he sets you down on the sink and lowers himself between your legs.

he leaves soft kisses up your thighs, your legs now thrown over his shoulders. “spencer,” you beg, his lips dangerously close to your cunt. “please.”

he smiles as you beg, hooking his finger on your underwear and pulling them down your legs roughly. he lowers his head farther in between your legs, licking a slow stripe down your cunt, causing you to squeeze your legs around his head and moan.

hearing your reaction, spencer moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp.

unfortunately the club music had been turned off and if anyone were to walk by, they would probably hear you making sounds. you cover your mouth with your hand to make sure you guys don’t get caught.

he moves his tongue farther into you, the sound of his mouth on your soaking wet cunt making lewd sounds that fill the small bathroom.

you moan into your hand, bucking your hips against his face.

he pulls his mouth away from you and without skipping a beat he inserts one of his large fingers into you, grinding his crotch against the edge of the sink to get himself off.

you open your mouth to tease him but he interrupts you by adding another finger into your pussy. you can’t help but moan loudly, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

“so good for me.” he says breathlessly, his fingers’ pace rough inside you and his hips fast against the sink counter.

“spencer,” you say in between ragged breaths. “i’m so close!” he smiles at your words, removing his fingers from your pussy with a pop.

you groan softly, hating the feeling of emptiness.

“spencer.” you warn, sitting up to get a good look at him. he has a look in his eye, a smirk on his face.

“what’s up?” he says nonchalantly, licking you off his lips and his fingers. you ask yourself how he can be so calm when he was literally just finger fucking you and eating you out. his cock is still dangerously hard, a spot of pre-cum on his cute little pants. you catch yourself imagining how big he is.

“fine.” you huff, seeing how he didn’t seem like he wanted you to finish. you insert your own fingers into your swollen cunt, pumping them inside yourself like spencer had been only a minute ago.

you over exaggerate your moans watching as spencer begins to rub himself through his now tight pants.

“i’m not going to beg you, pretty boy, but i need your cock inside of me right now.” he smirks at your words, making his way back over to you, hands moving to your face, kissing you passionately.

“i’m pretty sure that was begging, y/n.” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, beginning to unbutton his pants.

however, loud knocks interrupt him. "spencer?? are you in there??" emily's familiar voice, fills the room.

"uh, yeah! i'll be out in a second!" he says, beginning to re-button his pants, his cock still visibly hard. emily says something inaudible from the other side of the door then walks away. you lean forward on the sink counter, resting your head on spencer's shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.

after a second of peace, you hop of the counter in an attempt to fix your appearance, sliding back on your awkwardly soaked underwear.

"can we please finish this later?" spencer speaks up, catching you off guard. you smile, your brain still processing the fact that an hour ago you wanted to kill this man.

"yes, please."

part 2 :)

[everyoneprotector]

If I keep seeing terrible star wars takes on timtok I'm literally goi g to start just reading @gffa 's posts word for word o there. Shut the fuck up the jedi were never baby snatchers (except in rare cases where the child was in actual danger) facism and genocide are both BAD actually and the victims of both are NEVER asking for it the jedi were not slavers anakin was not some blameless Saint corrupted by the jedi/the jedis rules (what????), it does make sense that padawans and younglings survived order 66 especially with how few of them there are (afaik there's 5 - ahsoka, kanan, cal, bode and grogu and bode + kanan both die before the og trilogy anyways!) The inquisitors + vader aren't supposed to be cool power fantasy and the dark side isn't morally correct or even framed as a happy choice in the narratives you dumb fucking cunts!

[keto-keyes]

The Slytherins at Valentines

Imagine/preference

In celebration of the day of love, I have taken it upon myself to commit to paper how I imagine the Slytherins would celebrate Valentines with their S/O

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo would probably act like he'd forgotten until right at the last minute before it was time to head to sleep for the night

and practically dump a whole-ass pile of presents on his S/O's head.

definitely expects you to cuddle w/ him

he's the little spoon obviously

would constantly whisper things like:

"You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

"...Dumbass thought I'd forget the best day ever"

If you correct him, you lose your gifts

If you don't, smug ass bf forever

Choice is yours

He never really shows how touch-starved he is until Valentines Day, when he can snuggle with you and kick all the others out of your dorm without hearing you complain

not that you ever do

Basically, cuddles and rich-man benefits from the king of puppy eyes.

Tom Riddle:

This man... he is so romantic about how he spoils his S/O

A single rose, or a ring or some other piece of jewellery

Watch out, he'll present it at breakfast with a modest little card and expect you to wear it all day without fail.

might even buy you a crown fitting for the queen of the slytherins

doesn't like PDA, so none of that

Subtle smiles in your direction, maybe even a blown kiss

will love exchanging coded love letters with you like the little nerd he is

if you expected him to be cold like usual, he's not

other kids get time off from being victims, he's moony about you for a change

probably even brings small little things he finds to give you in-between classes

a feather, a dropped quill, some cookies he "borrowed" from some useless gryffindors

Mattheo couldn't stop teasing him after he caught Tom plucking nice-smelling herbs from the potions closet

You might need to stop him killing his brother

he's a gentleman, alright?

Theodore Nott:

Italians know how to Valentines Day

the saint is literally FROM Italy

and theo is rich. So....

Presents. lots of presents

anything you need

kisses also. lots of kisses

mans really loves kissing you. he'll never say no to PDA

staring at you for HOURS

dude has a stare like looking into the ocean - beautiful but somehow also makes you self-conscious

whispering to you in italian

even if you can't understand him, you know he's either complimenting you or whispering blasphemy about whichever first year last crossed his path

he likes to sit you on his lap when he can and rub your thighs or massage your shoulders

shoulder and neck kisses when you do

he doesn't like to be too far away from you, like any good clingy bf

will definitely need you to tell him to stop holding your hand or your waist before he does

maybe needs reminding multiple times. especially with other guys around

double the soft boy on the day of love

Draco Malfoy:

expect this boy to become very clingy

he's attention-starved, remember?

but he will give his S/O lots of gifts and presents to celebrate love

cards, messages via flying paper crane, roses, rings, ripped out passages of books from the forbidden section of the library, all the romantic gifts

he prefers to give little pecks on your cheeks when he can, but if not, definitely hand kisses.

i kid you not, he will get down on one knee with his usual gentlemanly demeanour just to kiss your knuckles

give this poor boy lots of kisses please

he needs them

play with his hair, let him be the little spoon

not that he isn't usually

he just won't let any of the others know that

holding hands

terrorising first-years

sending cutesy love letters to one another without the professor knowing

or zipping them right past mcgonagal's ear, if you live on the wild side

either way, he's so soft and squishy

Blaise Zabini:

i have come to inform you that this man will skip school for you

you're not feeling potions today, rather go out on the town? done

he does not care

you both get good grades anyway

all the sweets

sugar is his love language, and, funnily enough, your pet name

letting you wear his jackets

kisses. give this man some kisses

holding hands whenever you can.

i headcanon his hands are huge.

like giant sized

him smiling to himself whenever he sees you

"How did I manage to score this little sugarcube?"

yep, another sugar-themed pet name

you are like a little flower he needs to preserve (an icing flower, if you catch my drift)

another member of the touch-starved trio

he can do your hair for you (if you have long hair), but ONLY if you sit on his lap

this man knows french. and danish

did you know danish is one of the most beautiful languages on earth? well, you will soon

he likes muttering how pretty you are in danish. and how much he loves you

also, mans is a legit beanpole boy

he will rest his head on yours. he is just that tall

anyway, he loves you in 3 languages fam

Pansy Parkinson:

probably wants to make sure you both have the same number of presents

you'll always have one more than her somehow. like, how does someone forget they bought you the cat (or some other household pet) you always wanted?

isn't happy until she can constantly see a smile adorning your features

like Blaise, she will do your hair for you (if you have hair)

she buys THE NICEST necklaces and bracelets. not even Tom can compare

she can also speak french, but she'll only open up and start speaking it when you tell her you love her in your native language

will find pretty flowers to put in your hair or behind your ear so you can constantly smell of that flower

holding hands. there is no excuse

showing you off to the boys, making them pretend to have never met you before

no-one is allowed to make you smile except her. so, please stay away from Mattheo and Enzo for the day

will contain her anger and short temper for you

she's the little spoon.

you must comfort her. dealing with 6 boys everyday is tough

you're like royalty for a day, deal with it

Lorenzo Berkshire:

cheesy gifts. no cap

small flowers out of decorative bouquets? check

a flower or butterfly pin? yessir

constant hand-holding

teasing you

lip bites, squeezing your thighs, twirling strands of either of your hair

he is a major flirt, contrary to popular belief

he thinks you are the most adorable thing ever

loves to tell you how gorgeous you look

master gentleman in action, ladies and gents

singing cheesy love songs

mans will serenade you

he is the big spoon, for reasons you may never know

perhaps he likes holding his world in his arms

that's right folks, you are his WORLD

and nothing will stop him from telling you that as you nap in his arms instead of going to potions

[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more. 

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years. 

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand. 

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living. 

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long. 

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia. 

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall. 

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way. 

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life. 

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep. 

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied. 

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather. 

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before. 

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow. 

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next. 

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears. 

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket. 

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee. 

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out. 

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs. 

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant. 

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops. 

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best. 

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again. 

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you. 

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.” 

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?” 

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?” 

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.” 

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool. 

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human. 

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder. 

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons. 

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it  is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do. 

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths. 

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin. 

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new. 

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle. 

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.” 

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic. 

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower. 

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood. 

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in. 

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“ 

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope. 

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state. 

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears. 

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.” 

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on. 

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood. 

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid. 

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.” 

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?” 

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing. 

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable. 

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning. 

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones. 

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it. 

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask. 

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.” 

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad. 

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying. 

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants. 

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion. 

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to. 

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away. 

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.” 

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel. 

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair. 

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract. 

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry. 

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting. 

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain. 

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut. 

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow. 

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child. 

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.” 

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed. 

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle. 

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” 

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but  pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table. 

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers. 

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe. 

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds. 

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms. 

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see. 

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over. 

******

[megalony]

Care To Dance

This is an Evan (Buck) Buckley request that I was so thrilled to write I just had to finish it tonight. I hope this is what you wanted lovely anon, any other requests would always be amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: After an accident, Evan is helping his wife in her recovery and he loves to look after her. Especially when they go to the Christmas party. (Lots of fluff)

Enjoy.

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

Grabbing the remote, (Y/n) turned the volume down on the tv until it was barely audible and gently turned to look down at Evan.

She reached her hand out and slowly carded her fingers through his hair that had gone slightly curly from the shower. He was laid in the middle of the bed on his stomach, his head buried deep between the pillows with one arm up against the headboard. His other arm was draped over (Y/n)'s lap and he was breathing softly, starting to drool in his sleep.

He looked beyond tired when he walked in a few hours ago and as soon as he laid down in bed, he went out like a light.

(Y/n) knew he was excited to be back at work, he had been off for nearly two months since she had her accident but it surprised (Y/n) the most that Evan wasn't desperate to get back to work like he was when he injured his own leg. In fact, he was more desperate to stay home than be back out as a firefighter.

Evan wasn't ashamed to say he broke down when Chimney called him to say they had arrived at a crash site and (Y/n) was one of the victims. He had stayed in the hospital for the first week, not even bothering to go home even to shower. Then he was there every day without fail while (Y/n) went through physio and stayed in for a month.

This last month Evan had been home, getting (Y/n) through the bad days and feeling on top of the world when she had a good day. It surprised Evan himself, just how much he took to looking after her. Of course he always did before the crash, she was his wife and his world, but having the time off work to be able to help her around the flat and take her out and just generally take care of her was something Evan never thought about doing and never thought he'd love so much.

(Y/n) asked if he was sure when he said he was going to reduce his hours at work and he was. Evan wanted less hours as a fire fighter and more hours as a husband to look after her.

Leaning down, (Y/n) kissed the top of Evan's head, biting back a smile when he nuzzled into her side. When he settled again, (Y/n) carefully slid out from beneath his arm and got out of bed. Evan had just done a twenty-four hour shift and there was no way (Y/n) was going to wake him. She was going to try this on her own.

This last week had been a better week for (Y/n). Her whole left side was frazzled with nerve damage and partial paralysis in her leg. It meant that while she could walk, walking hurt and she now had a wheelchair for when they went out. But it also made getting up the stairs hard.

When she came home, (Y/n) thought she'd be sleeping on the pull out sofa but Evan wouldn't hear of it. He set up a challenge of trying to build up her stamina and climbing an extra step each day and he made things fun. Some times he would give her a piggy back up the stairs when she was having a good day and other times he would hoist her up bridal style when he was feeling sweet.

But when Evan felt playful, he would hoist her over his shoulder like the fireman he was and carry her up.

(Y/n) wasn't so used to doing the stairs on her own, if Evan was doing a long shift like he had just completed, he asked Maddie to pop in and check on (Y/n). But she was lucky there was a toilet downstairs and the shower upstairs so she could wait for Evan to finish his shift and politely ask for help up the stairs.

Her brows furrowed when she got to the stairs; the railing was on her left side when she walked down, and her left hand wasn't so good at flexing or gripping at the moment.

Keeping her right hand plastered to the wall, (Y/n) shuffled her left leg down to the next step and then her right, going slow and steady until she got halfway and her leg started to twitch. A new tactic was needed. She sat down with great effort and stretched her left leg out before shuffling down on her bum, using her right foot to steady herself.

It took about five minutes to get downstairs but it was worth it to keep Evan asleep and rested.

At least today was a good pain day, this week she'd only had one bad day and Evan had been home that day so she wasn't alone.

She flicked the kettle on and grabbed a mug to make some tea, it was routine now to do everything with her right hand and leave her left arm rested on the counter. She could lift her arm and start to clench her fingers a little but her whole arm was always trembling.

"Fuck," (Y/n) closed her eyes and tipped her head back when she got to the bottom of the stairs.

How was she going to get back up?

Come on (Y/n).

This was going to take a while. She placed her cup a few steps up, grabbed the railing and started to pull herself up. It was going slow but steady until her foot got caught on the step below and she crashed down on her knees and knocked her mug. She grabbed out to get the mug but half her tea spilled down the steps and across her knees before she could do anything.

"For God's sake!"

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tipped her head against the banister and let the tears fall freely.

Why couldn't she do a simple task like making herself a drink? She couldn't even carry a drink up the stairs without screwing it up. This wasn't fair, she was married to a firefighter, the bravest man she ever knew who ran into burning buildings and dove into deep waters to save people. And his wife couldn't get herself up the stairs without assistance.

"Babe? Where are you, you okay?" Evan rubbed his eyes and glanced around the bedroom but his eyes narrowed when he couldn't see his girl. She had been here when he went to sleep, Evan couldn't sleep without her by his side anymore.

He didn't like the thought of (Y/n) struggling round the flat while he was asleep, if he was home he wanted to help her. He didn't want her thinking she couldn't wake him for anything.

When Evan heard a small cry and a whimper, his heart rocketed up into his chest and he struggled to unwrap himself from the bedsheet and clamber off the bed. Where was (Y/n), what was she doing?

Evan was about to head over to the bathroom but he stopped when he just so happened to glance down the stairs.

There she was. There was his beautiful, brave, amazing wife, sat halfway up the stairs. The sight made Evan freeze and his heart battered against his ribs like it was trying to break free. Had she fallen? Why on Earth was she going down without him? He told her not to, he begged her to just wake him if she needed to go up and down the stairs. If he had to Evan would beg her on his knees to get her to realise that he was her husband and he wanted to care for her.

She had taken such amazing care of him when he damaged his leg and he wanted to do the same for her.

"Baby…" Evan ruffled his hair as he jogged down the stairs and sat down next to her. He didn't have to ask to know what happened, he took in the sight of her sat awkwardly on her knees, burying her face in the banister and a spilled cup of tea dribbling down the stairs. "I told you to wake me."

"You've been at work, I- I should be able to carry a cup up the stairs… I'm useless-"

"Don't take like that! You," He leaned forward to gently cup her face in his hands and rest their foreheads together. "You are my brave girl, alright? Look at you, two months and we've already got you walking up and down these stairs and you've got the grip back in your hand. They told me I could have lost you after that crash but here you are. You are not useless, you hear me?"

(Y/n) brought both shaking hands up to cup Evan's fingers that were smoothing over her cheeks, brushing away her tears. She hated that Evan was starting to cry as well, she didn't want to make him cry that was the last thing she intended to do. She couldn't seem to look away from his eyes, the more he cried, the deeper his blue eyes became.

"You heaved me up and down these stairs when I shattered my leg, you helped me get washed and held me up with my leg sticking out the shower. If I tell you I wanna carry you up these stairs then I'll do it because I want to and I love you."

When Evan got to the hospital, Bobby was there holding him up and sat cradling him on the floor when he had a panic attack at the thought of losing (Y/n). They didn't expect her to wake up after surgery, they didn't expect her to have any feeling in her hand or leg.

Physio were surprised when she began walking again and started to grip things in her left hand. Evan was told to move the bed downstairs because she wouldn't be able to climb up and down the stairs but look at her now. They had got her walking up and down the stairs at least once a day unaided.

But if (Y/n) needed help, Evan wanted her to ask because he didn't care what time it was, how tired he was or what was going on. He would carry her everywhere if she asked.

"I love you," (Y/n) brushed her nose against his before she pressed a wet kiss to his lips, feeling him laugh against her.

"Good, cos I love you more than anything. Now can we go back to bed?"

(Y/n) nodded her head and squeaked when Evan scooped her up in his arms bridal style as soon as she smiled his way.

"Grab your tea," He chuckled, leaning her down so she could take her cup that was almost half full. She had made it and got halfway up and Evan was proud of her, but he wanted her back in bed in his arms again. His lips smothered her temple and he carried her back up the stairs and as soon as she was laid on the bed, Evan crawled on top of her. He laid between her legs with his arms wrapped tight around her waist and his face tucked into the crook of her neck.

He pressed butterfly kisses against her skin, smiling to himself when he felt her fingertips grazing across his skin drawing patterns across his back.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm good, but you need to rest." (Y/n) kissed the top of his head and continued to feather her fingers across his bare back, trying to lull him back to sleep. He was tired, it was written across his face and he needed sleep, she didn't want to keep him awake any longer than necessary.

"The Christmas party at the station is in a few days… do you think you'd feel up to it?"

Evan could feel himself falling asleep but he tried to stay awake because he wanted to know the answer. The guys had asked him earlier if he and (Y/n) were going but he forgot it was this week. He wanted to go, any excuse for a celebration and Evan would always be there, he loved being with the team in calm happy situations like a party. After the last few months, he knew both he and (Y/n) could use brightening up with a party.

But he didn't want to go alone and if (Y/n) didn't feel up to it or she didn't want to face being out with so many people yet then he wouldn't go.

"Yeah, I've missed everybody and I know how much you love a party," (Y/n) moved her hand to card her fingers through Evan's hair, something she knew would make him fall asleep which was what he needed right now.

She hadn't seen the team in a few weeks and the parties were always fun and eventful. It would be nice to have a reason to get dressed up and leave the apartment other than for a hospital appointment or a brief walk with Evan or Maddie. And she knew they both needed this little piece of normality to help them get back to some sort of normal routine.

It was going to be fun.

***

"Baby, could you give me a hand?" (Y/n) batted her lashes up at her husband that she couldn't stop staring at since they left the apartment.

Evan was wearing a white button up shirt, high waisted black trousers and a blue jacket. He had the first two buttons undone and a green Christmas bow pinned to the left side of his shirt. He looked good and he had a Santa hat in her bag for if the festivities got heightened he could join in and play around.

His leaf green bow matched the colour of (Y/n)'s dress that fanned out around her knees and had a looped strap around the back of her neck but with a V-cut neckline that gave Evan quite a good view he couldn't stop glancing down at.

"What do you need, babe?" He smiled brightly and walked back towards her, he had ran ahead to dump a few presents near the food table ready to hand out later.

He furrowed his brows when (Y/n) grinned and held her hands out in front of her.

"Oh, you wanna walk in there?"

He reminded (Y/n) of a child that got hint of what his Christmas present would be. Evan didn't drive so they had picked an apartment close to the fire station and it just so happened that they could walk there in fifteen minutes. But with (Y/n) not doing well with long walking, she had used her wheelchair to get here.

(Y/n) didn't want to go in and greet everyone using her chair, they had seen her in it often enough when they visited her in hospital or the flat. She wanted to surprise the team and walk in and try to get around without the chair as much as she could. And she could sit down at a table and chat to everyone so she wouldn't over exert herself.

"Hell yeah! Here we go, Mrs Buckley." Evan rubbed his hands together before he stood just in front of her and held his hands out. He didn't even flex a muscle or move an inch when he took (Y/n)'s weight for her and helped her up to her feet.

Evan made quick work of moving the wheelchair just inside the station door so it was out the way before he held his arm out to (Y/n). She hooked her arm through his and held onto his elbow for support. (Y/n) knew she looked a little awkward when she walked, she practically dragged her left leg along with her but she was up and moving on her own- mostly her own but Evan was helping at the moment- and that was all that mattered.

"Hey, look who's here," Evan reached his free hand up and held onto (Y/n)'s hand but he couldn't refrain the wide grin that spread across his face when they quietly approached the rest of the team who were already here. They were all dancing and jingling along to the festive music playing in the background and starting to sort the food out.

Tables and chairs were set up in front of the gym, there was room to dance if the occasion took to it and the buffet was near the lockers. Bobby and Athena were coming down the stairs with the last of the food to go on the buffet.

"Oh my God!" Hen almost dropped her drink when she turned around and faced the couple.

In a split second she had passed her drink over to her wife Rachel and was barrelling over towards them until she could wrap her arms around (Y/n).

"You're up! Wow, you look so good," She pulled back enough to look (Y/n) up and down. Hen hadn't seen her walk since she'd visited last month and watched her hobble from the sofa to the kitchen. She looked so much better now, she wasn't stooped over or using anything to propel herself forward. With Evan by her side they looked just like they had a year ago when Evan first introduced them all to his wife.

"Thank you, it feels good to be out." When Hen pulled back a step, (Y/n) reached back out and happily coiled her arms around Evan's elbow that he kept offered out at her side.

"Hey you," Walking over, Eddie wrapped an arm around each of them and reeled them in for a joined hug and patted Evan on the back. Out of all of them, it was Eddie (Y/n) had seen the most when she came back home from the hospital. He and Christopher had been round at least three times a week to check up, see if they needed anything and offer company. They were the first people (Y/n) stepped out of the apartment with and Christopher was a great encouragement to get her walking again.

"Miss me?"

"You kidding, Chris is only here because he knows you two were coming."

"Wanna sit down?" Evan leaned down and hovered his lips over (Y/n)'s ear and when she nodded, he looked over at Eddie before they all moved towards the tables. When they got close, Evan unravelled his arm from (Y/n)'s and moved his hands to hold her hips so he could stand behind her and help ease her down into the chair next to Christopher. "I'll go get some drinks,"

(Y/n) tilted her head back into Evan's chest and squeezed his hand that rested on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple before he headed over to the food table with Eddie.

It felt so good to be out the apartment and around people she classed as family. Maddie came over and wrapped her up in a hug, she exchanged words and jokes with Chimney and started throwing things around with Christopher to see who would notice.

For a while, it had felt better to stay cooped up in the flat and with Evan having time off to help care for her and be around her, (Y/n) didn't want to leave the flat either. But he was helping her make so much progress that it would be wrong not to come here tonight. She had to come when she could finally walk around and see everyone without asking them for help or advice or feel like a burden. And to see Evan laughing and having a drink and joking around with the boys, it made her heart swell.

After they'd had something to eat and Christopher started to gorge himself on a large slice of cake, (Y/n) could feel Evan come back over towards them and stand behind her. He'd gone to talk to Bobby for a while and left (Y/n) to sit with Chris, Hen and Rachel.

It was like a calming omen behind her, a guardian angel of sorts and when his hands came down to hold her shoulders and his lips pressed to the top of her head, (Y/n) felt like her heart was going to explode. He rubbed his fingers into her exposed skin and leaned his waist into her shoulders, trying to get back into the conversation.

"I'm gonna get another drink,"

Something fluttered in (Y/n)'s chest when Evan's hands moved from her shoulders to her waist and he held her comfortingly tight, helping her up before he wrapped his arm around her waist and reeled her into his side. He knew she was on a high right now, the pain wasn't nearly as bad as it could usually be and she was happy to be moving about.

But he didn't want her overdoing anything and if she was walking around, he wanted to be with her and take her weight if she needed him to.

(Y/n) binded her arms around his torso and kissed his exposed neck as they slowly walked over to the buffet table to get fresh drinks.

Evan pressed his lips to the side of (Y/n)'s head and kept his arm around her waist while he waited patiently. He would never presume to do anything for her when he knew his wife wanted to do as much for herself as she could, especially out in public to show their friends just how far she had come.

(Y/n) grabbed herself a new glass and one for Evan and placed them close to her before she grabbed the jug of beer. Evan wasn't on duty today which meant he could let loose and have a drink with her.

"Could you…?" (Y/n) looked between the glass and Evan, smiling when he whispered a quiet 'of course' and held the glasses steady for her. "Alright, I'm gonna try and impress my firefighter husband now, ready?" (Y/n) grinned cheekily at him and held her left wrist until she could get her hand curled around the glass.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) held her left arm close to her chest with Evan's glass in her hand and grabbed the other glass in her good hand, trying to steady herself. Her arm always trembled, it was a new trait she had acquired and it made the beer slosh around in the glass but she was trying and when she looked up at Evan, he had such a cheesy grin on his face that made (Y/n) want to cry.

"Consider me impressed, baby." Evan kept his hands on (Y/n)'s waist and kissed her neck as they headed back near the table. Just as they got close, (Y/n) gasped quietly when her hand started to shake worse and she could feel her fingers starting to lose their grip. "I got you babe," As swift as anything, Evan moved one hand and curled his fingers around the back of her hand. He steadied her hand and kept her fingers around the glass until they could put them down on the table.

"Buck, you need to dance." Christopher curled his hands around Buck's arm once (Y/n) was sat down and tugged him towards the area where Hen, Rachel and even Bobby were starting to dance.

"Oh, I'll show you a few moves."

(Y/n) watched them wander over to dance and her heart swelled even more when she watched her husband pick Christopher up and spin him round. Evan was always one to show off his unusual dance moves and he was up for a boogie tonight.

"It's amazing,"

"Oh you know what he's like for dancing," (Y/n) barely managed to tear her eyes away from her husband to look over at Maddie who was sat next to her at the table. There was something in Maddie's eyes that made (Y/n) grin but she wasn't sure why.

"That's not what I meant," She spoke softly and leaned closer, "I've never seen Buck so happy and intimate before. He'd do anything for you." Maddie had seen her little brother in a wreck when (Y/n) had her accident and she had tried to be around to help out when (Y/n) first came home from the hospital. But it soon became clear that she wasn't needed.

Evan had everything covered, he knew exactly what to do to help her and look after her and he loved doing it. If (Y/n) asked he would burn the world down and crawl through broken glass on his knees if she wanted him to.

(Y/n) brushed a hand across her cheek to swipe away the few tears that escaped. With a lasting smile, (Y/n) used the table as leverage and pushed herself up.

It was a lot harder walking when she didn't have Evan to lean on but she was determined. She pressed a finger to her lips when she got close and Bobby nodded, saying nothing when she snook up behind her husband and reached up as high as she could since he was taller than her.

Evan smiled down at Christopher who had hold of his hands but he froze when a hand suddenly covered his eyes. He wondered for a second if it was Maddie or even Eddie trying to sneak up on him but once he felt a very familiar frame pressing up into his back and a pair of lips against his neck, his smile broadened.

"Care to dance, Mr Buckley?"

(Y/n) almost toppled over from how fast her husband spun around and wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled when Evan's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and his lips feverishly pressed to hers.

"I'd love to,"

"Lend a hand then baby,"

Evan got the hint and reached down for her left arm and slowly looped it around the back of his neck. It was oddly comforting to feel her trembling fingers trying to caress the back of his neck and he liked the way (Y/n) curved her other arm around his back to pull him closer until they were moulded together.

"Keep on pulling me around and we'll have to leave early." He whispered the fiery words against her ear but she could feel his fingertips pressing into her hips and the way he pushed further into her with a wolfish grin.

(Y/n) grinned to herself and buried her face in his chest, minding the bow still pinned to his shirt. She let Evan take control and slowly sway them from side to side before he started to turn on his heels, gently moving (Y/n) along with him. It was like their first slow dance they had at their wedding, calm and tranquil after all the buzz and excitement.

They both knew they wouldn't be here at the party for much longer, (Y/n) couldn't stay standing for long and she didn't want to sit down all night or resort to her wheelchair. But it had been so much fun already and (Y/n) relished being in Evan's arms like this. It made them both forget everything that had happened in the last few months.

There had been no crash, no hospital admission or physio, no screams and cries of anguish and no trouble getting up and down the stairs.

"I love you, Evan Buckley. Thank you for, for everything." There were no words for (Y/n) to express how much gratitude she had for the man holding her safe and sound in his arms. She couldn't thank him for everything he had done or they would be here for a lifetime, but she wanted him to know that everything he did, she loved him more and more each day for it.

"Oh babe, we're just getting started."

Evan spun them both on his heels before he leaned forward and dipped (Y/n) down just like at their wedding. His grin widened into a smirk when he heard the team whooping and clapping and with a wink, he moved closer and merged their lips together.

[bonyassfish]

Idk maybe I’m just a bitter queer Jew but it is entertaining to me how many Christians will trip over themselves to be like “our church isn’t like that!!” Which is like…yeah, it probably is like that.

What are the largest christian sects in the world? The Catholic Church? Long history of antisemitism. Protestantism? Long history of antisemitism. The Orthodox Church? Long history of antisemitism. The church of latter-day-saints? A younger religion with its own history of antisemitism. Jehovahs witnesses? Another younger religion with its own history of antisemitism. And all of these, broadly, are still mostly hostile to queer and trans folks.

So yeah, it is you. It is your church. My ancestors in the former Russian empire experienced pogroms that we’re actively encouraged by the Orthodox. Catholic Churches stole thousands of Jewish orphans during world war 2 and forcibly converted them. Protestantism was founded by a guy who wrote a book called “on the Jews and their lies”. The Mormon church was, as recently as a few years ago, posthumously converting victims of the holocaust. And pretty much every single Christian denomination, with a few exceptions, still actively proselytize to Jews, still view us as either primitive Christians who need to be brought into the fold or as an evil cabal that has to be killed and sent to hell, or (in the us especially) a politically convenient group that needs to be exported to Israel ASAP so as to begin the resurrection of Jesus or whatever.

[andthespidersfrommars]

shadow and bone fans are captivated by the church scene in season 1 of the show, fixated by the weight of inej’s choice—sacrificing her faith and committing an act of violence in a place meant for solace and sanctity, all in a desperate bid to save kaz’s life. it resonates deeply with them, who appear to be enthralled by the agonizing dilemma she faces, torn between her unwavering principles and the fierce loyalty that drives her to such drastic measures, and they are even more enthralled by her choice to save her true love. however, few fans seem to talk about how inej, a victim of human trafficking who was kidnapped from her home by slavers, seemed somewhat at ease with kidnapping a girl from her home for money. no one talks about inej having no moral conflict about selling a girl to a merchant who wanted use of her skills. no one points out the hypocrisy of inej wanting to hunt down slavers after practically doing the same thing as them.

unrelatively, (not) inej is suli and her community (who leigh bardugo undeniably based on romani people and culture) are travellers, who do not stay in one place for a long time but follow old routes. their nomadism is both a reflection of their current cultural identity and a response to external forces that have marginalized them, such as persecution and hostility.

ravka may have grand, impressive churches, but the suli don’t have a fixed location of worship. their faith is obtained in saint stories, possibly some kind of rituals or traditions, and their moral values. while inej might respect churches as a symbolism of religious belief, her understanding of faith is likely derived from the same cultural notions. her relationship with her saints is personal and intimate; she believes they can hear her prayers regardless of her physical surroundings. she has had to kill people to survive in the barrel and killing someone in a church would not have more meaning to her then killing someone in the street. dunyasha falls off the church of barter when she dies but this does not seem especially significant to inej.

in the books, inej is religious but at the same time clever and logical. she isn’t blindly devoted to her faith, she understands that she had to do terrible things to survive in the barrel and is competent at her job. however something she does not ever waver on is human exploitation. she cares profoundly about people and is committed to bringing justice, and she seeks to protect those who suffer similar exploitations as she did.

in the show, she is blindly religious and at times, a mindless devotee. she is far more morally upright then a 16 year old girl in that situation would be able to be. nevertheless, her outlook on kidnapping and exploiting others seems to be quite flexible.

this phenomenon extends beyond inej’s character alone; it reflects a broader trend within the shadow and bone adaptation where critical aspects of various characters are altered or misplaced, leading to a dilution of their original significance. character traits are either largely exaggerated or diminished, leading to a compete loss of meaning in storytelling. by focusing primarily on inej’s faith while neglecting her strong stance against human trafficking—an issue that resonates deeply with her personal history—the adaptation presents a one-dimensional portrayal that fails to capture the essence of who she is meant to be. show fans are enamored with this new interpretation of inej, without fully recognizing the significant alterations made to her core values and beliefs, thereby overlooking critical themes present in bardugo’s original work.

[p41nkillers]

im intrigued by the parallels between nathan & kate

vent through art (both of them hv an interest in art in messed up way??) also fuck u jefferson

2. room 111 & 222 (coincidence? i dont think so)

3. keeping a bottle of wine in a dorm room

theyre younger than 21 so its considered underage drinking which is illegal in the US, might explain why kates hiding it since her parents r super strict especially her mother (strict parents creates the sneakiest kid and a great liar who is better at hiding secrets, same goes for abusive parents IMO so 🤷‍♀️)

also…nathan appears to rely on drugs or both, while kate seems to turn to alcohol(and drugs??-unconfirmed) as a coping mechanism (personally i dont think kate is on drugs and her being ok doing that, it doesnt seem to add up with her character at all)

4. daddy & mommy issues (both r dealing with difficult & unsupportive relatives, struggling to be ‘a perfect son/daughter with 0 mistakes' to satisfy parent’s expectations)

5. positive sibling relationship with a sister/s (the only characters who mention having siblings)

6. born and raised as an atheist/a true believer (a sinner and a saint) and came from a tough family

7. "u will not embarrass me" "we hope u havent brought shame on our family" (victims of bullying due to family's negative reputation/religious beliefs)

8. assistant to MJ during daylight(kate)/ nighttime(nathan) hours. ~classroom and darkroom~

9. “my life is hell” “my life’s suck and i want it over” sharing words n depressing thoughts that r similar to one another

10. had that one person who genuinely cared for them

ive been ponderin this recently & felt the urge to share somewhere so there u go~ wish dontnod had explored them more

[yukittywrites]

You'll Love it When I Give it To You

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

warnings: dom reader and sub yuta, nipple piercings, nipple play, coming untouched, dry humping, some light degradation

word count: 2.2k Read the full story (6.28k) here!

a/n: did i forget tumblr existed? who knows? (the answer is definitely yes) anyways, thanks for being patient. reader is gender neutral, no mentions of your genitals/race/majorly identifying features. it is implied that you and 127 are very close/you're in 127 (read how you will) but it's not really plot necessary! reader in the original story is actually mark...so you're a little mark coded but im sure you're fine with that ;))

It was only natural. Yuta had always been in love with piercings and tattoos.

Of course he'd gotten tattoos once he was permitted to. A 127 chain around his bicep, a butterfly on his hip, and finallly, a feather on his pelvis, trailing low enough that no one who saw him decent would be able to see the full thing.

Then, he'd gotten piercings as well. His ears had been pierced for ages, but he'd gotten a bunch of new holes added throughout time, until he had a near absurd amount. The last one he got, a navel piercing.

The navel piercing was painful, but worth it, especially for the reactions he got for it, and it was only the next step in his gradual transformation to his emo/v-kei/rockstar aesthetic that he'd been steadily building over time.

Nipple Piercings

They were hot, easy to show off, the company didn't care about them and the fans would love them.

So he was quick to run to the tattoo and body piercing parlor and have them shove some black studs straight through his nipples.

And he had to keep them mostly untouched (aside from a shirt or a jacket rubbing against them) for ages, but finally, the sensitivity wore off.

That was when the torture began.

It was so easy to tease him about them, because his nipples were suddenly very sensitive where they had not been before, and the members were quick to use this to their advantage, tweaking them to get a rise out of him, humiliate him, knock him down a peg, make him do something—truthfully, they used them for so many things that Yuta wasn't even sure he could recall all of them.

But, of all people, the person who didn't bother him with nipple torment was you. And, by all account, you had the most reason to.

Yuta believed that you had just seen the amount of absolute hell that he'd endured (with hell being a rather dramatic term, he really didn't hate it) and you'd decided to take mercy on him.

But, as it seemed, you were simply waiting for the right time to strike.

Doyoung, his other main victim of teasing, was probably the only other person who had a justified reason to tweak his nipples so much, had definitely gotten his fair share already, and you definitely deserved it too, because Yuta just loved to tease you in a different way.

He lived for the rise he could get out of you with overly suggestive comments, revelling in how you would turn red and sputter whenever flirted with.

A suggestive comment here, a lip bite or wink there, a gesture that was far too dirty to be entirely innocent (like that one time he got white yogurt on his hand and made eye contact with you as he licked it all off his hand in the dirtiest way possible.), all of them would leave you a mess, choking on sputtered protests in mashed up Korean and your native language.

And all he'd do was smile brightly, then slip away to do nonsense, leaving you before you could even recover.

So, anyway. Yuta thought you were a benevolent saint who ignored what everyone else was doing.

Yuta was (unsurprisingly) wrong, and just like how it happened with Doyoung, he probably earned it.

Yuta starts it.

“Dude, that’s literally massive.” You say. You're referring to the size of the package that Johnny just walked past the doorway with, because the box really was huge.

But of course, Yuta couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease you a little bit. “Yeah? I’m sure I could think of a lot of things that are massive, Y/n.”

It’s not his best work, but it gets the point across, and you flush beet red. Yuta snickers. 

This is your time. You blink at him for a second or two, and Yuta can see the gears turning in your head. It’s almost like you're buffering, and Yuta opens up his mouth to make another retort, but you seem to understand his idea at the same time because you move from the chair you're sitting on to climb on top of him.

And not in the same way that the others had done, no. You shove his chest into the back of the chair and settles your body on top of it in a way that is practically obscene. 

Yuta, for once, is speechless. His lips part in sheer shock, and you can't help but grin. “A lot of things, huh?” You question, your voice mantaining a teasing lilt, blended with something that Yuta’s never heard from you before.

“Yep. Why? Do you want to know what they might be?” Yuta replies, despite internally screaming, because YOU are sitting on his lap, pressing him into the chair, looking down at him, and he thinks he might lose his mind. 

“You’re so cocky, Yuta.” You say, your hands move from the arms of the chair.

“And what reason would I have not to be?”

“Hmm…” You fake contemplate, “This.” 

Then, your hands connect with Yuta’s nipples, both of them at once, and the sensation is different.

It’s not like how it was when everyone else touched him—this is closer to how it felt when he touched them himself, and his body spasms.

You seem to take this as the same sort of spasming that would occur whenever the others would touch him, so you do it again, and Yuta writhes, lips pressing into a thin line.

“Most people don’t react this way when someone does this.” You tell him, stating the obvious.

“Well, n-no shit!” He hisses. His voice is too pitchy to bite back his real reaction, and he stutters a little.

You laugh, evidently amused by the reaction that you're getting. When you rubs them again, Yuta releases some noise that’s in between a whine and a gasp, a little too suggestive to be purely a gasp of shock.

However, Mark’s favourite past time is to make suspicious noises, so they're not that uncommon, and so you must not even realise that Yuta is not joking.

You take your hand and pinch his fucking nipple through his shirt, and despite the buffer of fabric between the two of you, it is game over for Yuta because his back arches. One hand shoots out to grab at your waist for stability, and the noise that leaves his throat is clearly one of arousal.

You still instantly, and Yuta panics, because this is really fucking weird. You are touching his nipples and sitting on his lap, and Yuta is holding onto your waist, skin flushed. 

He gets ready to apologise—to say sorry because he’s really weird for getting off on this right now, especially when he was fine while everyone else touched him—but you shift your weight slightly.

Oh. Oh no. He’s hard. Like, rock hard. He hadn’t realised it because he was more focused on trying not to reveal to you what he was thinking, but now that you have moved, he can feel it.

And you can too.

Your lips curl up into a smile again, though Yuta can see something else swimming in your eyes. 

“Is that a lightstick in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” you question, leaning in (and down) to be a little bit closer to him.

Your hair covers his eyes when you do.

Yuta swallows, “Y-Y/n, I didn’t—uhm.” His Korean fails him for the first time in a while, and he closes his lips again.

“I thought they were sensitive, but I didn’t know they were sensitive like that.” You tease, and Yuta wonders if, for a moment, you've switched personalities, because usually he’s the one teasing you, and it’s never this intense either—

“Uh. They aren’t—well, they weren’t before. Not when the others touched them.” Yuta replies, and now you really smile.

“So you are happy to see me.”

Yuta doesn’t know how to reply, but again, he opens his mouth, and you rolls a nipple at the same time, and his brain short circuits.

“Oh.” He moans, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. When they peel back open, you're staring at him in fascination.

“You really like this.”

“I—” But you're right, because he does, and he likes you too. “Yeah. It’s the piercings. They make it so…it’s so sensitive.”

You hum, slipping your hand up under Yuta’s shirt, touching his waist where his belly button piercing is, then you pause and takes your hand out.

“Can I…” It’s hesitant, because if you pull off Yuta’s shirt, then you two have to acknowledge what’s happening. 

Yuta nods quickly, and you decide that is a talk for later, as you slide his shirt right off, pulling it off his body.

Yuta’s piercings catch in the light: the stone on his belly button, the metal barbells on his nipples, the chain dangling from them (which totally wasn’t so he could pull it later).

“I still can’t believe the company let you get these…” You whisper

“Don’t talk about the company right now." Yuta replies. "We all know what they think.”

“They’re so pretty too.” You say, thumbing at his left, and Yuta’s fingers twitch. 

“Thanks,” he replies, his eyes almost falling shut again.

Your fingers twitch towards a barbell, obviously wanting to touch it.

“You can—you can touch them; pull them.”

“Pull it? But, dude, doesn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts, but it’s a good hurt.” 

You laugh, “Good hurt? I didn't know you were into that.”

You do grab the end of the piece between your fingernails, regardless, and pull it softly.

Yuta’s arm stops working, and it falls off your waist limply. “Mmmh~ Fuck.”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe we’re doing this.” You says, a little frantic. You pull again Yuta’s hips buck up. They brush against your inner thigh, and Yuta moans again. 

“You can pull harder—please. As hard as you want, Y-Y/n, it’ll feel good.” Yuta says, near desperate.

“Slut.” You whisper, and it jars Yuta, but the moment he processes it, he whimpers. 

You can't help but pull at his barbell fervently.

“Oh, god!” Yuta cries out, his head lolling back and his hips rolling against your thigh.

Your thighs are muscled and firm against his cock as he grinds against it, and you don't move it. 

“You like this? Grinding against my thigh and begging me to make you hurt?” You question.

You're a little baby dom, Yuta can tell—into being condescending and a little bit of pain but not quite secure in it—and somehow it’s still just as hot.

“Y-Yeah. So good, it’s so good. Fuck, Y/N!” Yuta moans, his tone pitching into something whiny and desperate.

You laugh, “I always thought you were a dom top, Yuta. It turns out that you really just want to feel good. You’ll beg for it, won’t you? You’d beg for me to make you feel that pain?”

“Yes, yes, I’d beg if you made me! Please, please. Do you want me to? I really want it—” 

“Aw, Yuta. I won’t make you beg for me.” You tease, pushing your thigh closer to Yuta’s cock for him to grind against even harder.

“Thank you!” Yuta gasps, his head lolling back again, as he takes advantage of your benevolence. 

You giggls, leaning close to him and pressing a kiss to his neck, trailing down to his chest. The position looks uncomfortable, pretzel-like, as you bend your head in a weird way to do so. Yuta would mention it if his brain wasn’t actively draining from his head.

You kiss his pec, then, in one fluid movement, suck a nipple into your mouth and suck.

“Nngh! Fuck, Y-Y/n~” He practically wails, his chest arching into your hold, begging for any pleasure, then spasming away, causing you to lose contact.

“Come on, Yuta. I thought you wanted it?” You sneer.

“I do! I do—”

“Then stop moving and take it.” You tell him before grabbing his waist and putting your lips back on Yuta’s nipples.

“Oh god.”

Yuta has never been more horny in life, pleasure bursting behind his eyelids as you tongue at his nipples and pull on his piercing with your teeth.

Your leg is digging into his crotch, and somehow, even that feels great. 

His hips spasm rapidly, and a garbled whine strains from his throat.

“I’m gonna—Y/n, I’ll cum—oh fuck!” He cries out.

You giggle against his nipple, and that’s it for him.

Stuttered mash ups of Japanese cries of him cumming spill from his lips as he cries out, ”Iku! Y/n, Y/n, iku~ I’m c-c—”

Yuta’s head falls back, and his eyes roll until only the whites are present. His body stills entirely, his mouth open in a silent moan. 

You let him bask in the feeling before pulling away.

“I can’t believe that we did that.” You whisper quietly.

Yuta laughs, breathless. “Yeah, me either. That was crazy, but I don’t think we’re done yet.” 

“Wh—oh!” You cry out, as you're spun around.

It's going to be a long night.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

Again: read the full story here!

[nayadoesstuff]

People (mostly Zuko stans) like to think Ursa was some saint. Ursa is not a saint, let's be completely real. I mean, series!Ursa is a plot device - she's there to remind Zuko to never forget who he is. The show wouldn't paint her in a bad light. Comic!Ursa is also a terrible portrayal. I can't imagine a parent choosing to forget their own children to go and live another life and have another child. Kiyi is quite literally a replacement child - and lying about who Zuko's father is? That could've put Ozai, Ursa herself and Zuko at risk if Azulon ever caught wind of it. She did it to spite Ozai, which I think is so incredibly stupid. Back to the point - Ursa is not a saint in any way. No completely innocent person has a collection of poisons which they can use at any time. Ursa also grew up in the FN. She was married to a Fire Prince - I highly doubt she'd support any kind of rebellion. Let's be honest, she'd probably be a hardcore imperialist. I'm quite sure it's implied Ursa had a hand in how Azula turned out, even if it was mostly Ozai. She'd probably be proud of Azula for taking over Ba Sing Se and being an imperialist if she stayed with Ozai. Are we forgetting she laughed, along with Azula and Zuko over Iroh's whole 'burning Ba Sing Se to the ground' joke? Ursa is not a good person, and IMO not even the best mother. It doesn't mean she can't change. In fact, we don't even know much about her without the comics (which were terrible) I feel it's lazy writing. They needed a reason why she wouldn't return or try to contact Zuko when he joined the gaang - it could've been done much better. Especially her relationship with Ozai. Sure, it's fine for her to be a victim of abuse, but it's incredibly boring and been done before. The trope of evil guy and kind woman where evil guy abuses kind woman is OVERDONE. It'd be more interesting if Ursa and Ozai actually liked eachother. The idea of them marrying because she's Roku's descendant is good, but I feel the rest of it was poorly executed - she could've been as power hungry as him. I mean, Ursa's family would've been nobility if Roku didn't betray the FN. Maybe she wanted power, maybe she was like Ozai in that regard. It would've been a lot more interesting if they loved eachother for a while because of the things they had in common but Ursa stopped chasing power after her children were born and Ozai didn't.

[blameitonluffy]

The amount of hate Tyrion gets in the fandom is so over the top. The way book Tyrion specifically is spoken about will often have me wondering if these people have actually read the books or just skimmed the wiki or are just repeating what they heard others say. 

The idea that Tyrion is just a villain and evil is ridiculous. He certainly isn't a saint but people exaggerate how bad he is to an insane degree. It's so hyperbolic at times that with absolutely no book knowledge you'd think he’s another Joffrey or something. There's barely any empathy shown towards his character and it's very clear the fandom holds him to a higher standard then they do the other characters and are more likely to criticize him for things they're quick to praise, show sympathy or just love other characters for. 

This often leads to them either inadvertently or outright validating Cersei and even Tywin’s treatment of him. 

More than once I've seen people in this fandom saying that Cersei had good reason to hate Tyrion and call him a monster or that she and Tywin were right about him all along. It's abuse apologia plain and simple; Tyrion is not pure and perfect so they don't acknowledge him as a victim and instead see his abuse as justifiable. The thing is, there is only ONE reason Cersei calls Tyrion a monster and you know what it is. She has been calling him that since he was a baby for that very reason and has been abusing him since then as well but people act as if she is the real victim in it all. It's like they forget that he's a disabled character who faces constant discrimination and dehumanization even at the hands of his own family. 

Of course Tyrion wants her dead, it's no surprise. Of course he wants revenge and wants every person who’s ever hurt him to burn, but every other character is allowed to hate their abusers and want them dead or want to make them suffer or kill them. They can have all the revenge they desire, but Tyrion is not allowed the same. The bias here is so blatant and there are also the ones who bring up his misogyny while they stan characters that are just as misogynistic as he is or even more so. There's no consistency. 

Tyrion is one of the most interesting and complex characters and it sucks to see him reduced to just some evil guy especially because this is the very thing the books critique but it completely flies over their heads and they just do the exact thing that is being criticized. At the end of the day it's mostly ableism at play and it's not even subtle. 

[bonefall]

How did palefoot make it to Starclan, I thought you needed a proper burial in order to get a fetcher? Especially since his body was hidden. Did he just happen to get lucky and they found him before he got his spirit trapped in the dark forest?

Also, him then becoming the patron of finding bodies is a bit funny, like a car crash victim becoming the patron of surviving car crashes. Then again, you can't really complain about getting prayers I guess.

Nope, BB!Cats don't need a proper burial to get to StarClan! It's just extremely disrespectful from the living, and denies the family a chance to grieve since they can't sit vigil and share tongues with their loved one. It's a deeply malicious mortal action.

Also LMAO yeah Clan cats are brutal with their ironic patrons. They love it. It's exactly like how Catholic saints become the patrons of things related to their insane deaths or just straightup insults. Like Saint Elmo who is the patron of tummy aches because they gutted him like a fish. Or how Saint Drogo who was allegedly so ugly he is now the patron saint of the unattractive (and also coffee).

Quick dribble on Fetchers;

Their basics are covered over in StarClan 101

Fetchers can be anyone. They're usually a family member, or a guardian angel, but there's no hard rules with Forest Four.

SkyClan DOES have a hard rule; Cloudstar is the "Grim Reaper" for SkyClan, in what he feels is repentance for his time as the Rat Leader. He is their only Fetcher.

They have to come down and find your spirit. Some Fetchers are better at this-- just because they have a better sense of when death is near, or they were nearby, or they were fast, or you invoked them shortly before the death, etc.

It's possible to run away from your Fetcher if you want, or hide.

BUT, Dark Forest cats can ALSO Fetch you.

In the case of cursed bloodlines like the Appledusk Lineage, very strong fetchers are sent who can fight the rival demon effectively.

Flametail was immediately dragged down to the Dark Forest because of this. That wasn't an accident; they killed him and then kidnapped his soul.

RiverClan cats believe that if your Fetcher doesn't come for you, Ripwater will find you first and bring you to the Dark Forest.

You NEED a Fetcher to get to StarClan. If you are a spirit who looks for StarClan on your own, you will find the Meadow of Young Stars first, and then the Dark Forest.

When you die, you usually get "knocked out." Your Fetcher can bring you to StarClan while you're still asleep, making it seem like you "woke up in Silverpelt"

However it IS possible to die awake. You will suddenly not feel the pain of your injury. It's extremely alarming.

So, Palefoot was able to get to StarClan. It actually did take the Fetchers a while to find him though. He was killed and buried very quickly, and it took him a while to wake up and realize he'd been shoved in a bog. He didn't realize he was dead at first, he thought he'd just been beaten up and thrown in the mud.

He wasn't really taking it in that he was kinda numb, and in spite of being in the autumn bog for a while, he wasn't cold. It wasn't until he got back to the camp that he realized no one was responding to him, and then it hit him that he didn't need to breathe anymore.

(I like to keep the rules 'loose' for situations like that, lmao)

[greerbaiting]

Cinderella's Castle and Abuse

Cinderella's Castle is a great representation of how abuse destroys your life and agency and here's why.

Spoilers. Obviously.

Ella knows she's being abused. She knows that her life is in danger, she knows this will probably end in her death, but she cannot escape her abusers. This is a very real situation many abused people find themselves in. It is a lot harder to leave an abuser than you might think. Ella reaches out for help: from someone she used to know, from a total stranger. She is turned down because they don't believe her or have no interest in helping. Specifically they don't believe her because her stepmother has told everyone that she's crazy. This is, again, a very real situation abused people find themselves in. Abusers are very good at manipulating the story and making themselves look like the injured party (Cursed Crazy has a line about how Ella's stepmother must be a saint having to "deal with her"). This is also part of the stepmother isolating Ella: she makes Ella cover herself in dirt and tells everyone she's crazy so Ella has nowhere to turn. Her only contact is with her stepfamily.

Ella's stepmother lets her have something for herself: she lets her friends stay at the house, lets Ella clean the house and herself (keeping up appearances, another part of abuse), and even lets Ella spend time with her friends. This of course is a trap to hurt Ella worse than she already has, making her watch as she brutally kills her friends and then has her stepsisters wear their skin. This of course leads to psychological abuse, as Ella is later abused by people who look like her dear friends.

I also want to note that Ella's friends offer her a chance to escape. She finally has people who believe her when she makes the incredibly brave decision to tell them about the abuse. Because it is incredibly hard to tell someone you're being abused, especially when you have not been believed in the past. But telling her friends puts them in danger, another very real thing that happens with abuse, and part of why many victims don't come forward.

When Ella is finally given a chance to free herself from the abuse and prevent countless others from also being abused it doesn't work. There is such a small thing protecting her from being discovered (keeping her shoes on her feet) and of course she is not able to manage it. Not when her abusers spend so much time still trying to destroy her. And her attempt to escape and near success gets her killed. Again reflecting the reality of many abuse victims. This paves the way for her abusers to abuse others, which is why some victims stay with their abusers ("Better me than someone else" "I can contain their abuse" "They'd be worse without me").

Ella had all her options and agency stripped from her. It takes so much bravery from Ella to escape her abusers. It also takes multiple attempts and support from people who believed her when she said she was being abused. Because it's a fantasy show it also took magic. But it doesn't take magic in real life. Look out for the people in your life. And believe victims when they come forward about abuse. It takes a lot of courage to speak up.

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Quarterfinals, Poll 4

Propaganda under the cut

John Gaius, The Emperor Undying, God

Gaslight: When he resurrected his best friends he took away all their memories and gave them new names. He never reveals to them that he was the one who killed everyone on earth in the first place. He really plays up the "benevolent God" act Gatekeep: As a God, everyone is vying for his Favour and he is the one who gets to decide who gets it. He also doesnt share his knowledge of how to become immortal without killing your best friend. Girlboss: Literally made himself God. Never strayed from his ten thousand year old plan of Revenge. Rules an entire solar system and is colonizing more.

Jod is a frequent gaslight and gatekeep, however he falls more under the girlflop the girlboss. All of his plans go wrong but goddamn if he's not trying. Horrible ideas from an even worse person. Whent above gasligting and just straight up wiped his friends memories. Gatekeeping the knowledge of the universe. Had a child he didn't know about for 18 years and only found out cause she showed up dead(she's fine now(mostly)), girlboss move. Had a threesome with two of the gaslit friends, this would be less gross if he wasn't middle-aged. Gatekeeping the planets(I cannot explain this one). Ressurected humanity but also killed a lot of cows(girlboss). Put the soul of the earth in a woman and then put her in prison(but not before killing half of the amigos). Anticaptalist, bisexual, father. He has babygirl energy

Killed entirety of humanity and the whole solar system save a handful of billionaires and their victims, then resurrected the sun and a select handful of humans, wiped their memories, and established a religion in which he is god for over ten thousand years. Also an ex-tumblrina (probably) and goth twitch streamer (definitely).

Killed almost all of humanity, the sun and the solar system and then resurrected some of them deliberately without their memories and didn’t tell them that he killed them in the first place, and also told them that he was god. Renamed his friends after killing and resurrecting them. Set up imbalanced and toxic power dynamics among his inner circle that led to half of them either killing themselves or being killed by the other in each pair in order for half the group to become immortal saints, something he didn’t tell them wasn’t actually necessary to reach that sort of state. Lied to the surviving friends about why the ghosts of the planets in the solar system were hunting them, he told them they were after all of them because of the way they’d become saints which meant they could never go home, but they were actually only ever after him. Also because of this lie he was able to manipulate them into fighting the ghosts and dying in the process, saying that they would kill him which would destroy the sun, when actually they couldn’t kill him and also the ghosts were after just him so everybody would be fine if they just stopped hanging out with him (this is true in a LOT of senses actually). When he decided to get new immortal saints he specifically asked for the heirs of the houses, who were mostly younger in the 16-22 range and therefore easy to manipulate especially after killing their best friend (again, he knows that isn’t necessary and is asking it of a group of teens/young adults). When one of the people who was successful appears to have done it wrong, he pretends to be a mentor or father figure to her face (knowing that that is something extremely important to her) while having one of his surviving original friends try to kill her without her knowing he was behind that. On the girlboss front, I think he kinda thinks he’s a girlboss more than he actually is one, but he’s so good at the gaslight bit he’ll have you believing that too.

Ianthe Tridentarius

She is trying so hard to be the main character by lying and manipulating her sister, her cavalier, her mentor, her ?love interests? (Spoiler???) And also god. Not sure how it's working out for her but she does love to lie and manipulate

Worstie Ianthe is the DEFINITION of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. She is one of a set of necromancer twins that are the heirs to their houses rule. Except wait, only she is a necromancer and she has spent their entire lives doing necromancy for the both of them. She is constantly mean to their cavalier, Naberius, who she occasionally nibbles on like a chew toy, before eventually killing and eating him to ascend to sainthood. She goes to gods spaceship with another woman who ascended to sainthood who she has a crush on, this other woman is like…. Both incredibly mentally unwell and also haunted by at least 211 ghosts. Ianthes method of flirting with her? Gaslighting her about the corpse that keeps moving around and hiding under her bed. For no real reason tbh. She is clearly plotting to overthrow god, and at the moment that consists of her manipulating him while he’s too sad about his long term partners betraying him and subsequently exploding to really care. She dresses in terrible outfits and makes soup by burning onions to the bottom of a pot, putting meat in and some vegetables and then it doesn’t taste like anything so she puts in a few teaspoons of salt so it tastes like a few teaspoons of salt. She had her crush amputate her arm and regrow her a new one out of bone and it’s one of the horniest things I’ve read in my life.

"Gaslight = told her lobotomized (she helped), schizophrenic girlobsession that there was no corpse under their bed, even tho there totally was. Gatekeep = girl did NOT share the secret to god-like ascension. She kept that shit to herself until it was time to eat her boytoy, and by then everyone knew already. Girlboss = she has a non-necromancer twin sister, and literally Everyone thinks they r both necromancers because Ianthe is so good at it. She reverse engineered ascending to the aforementioned ascension without even completing any of the supplementary tasks. She held her own in a fight against a 10k year old lyctor. She becomes the figurehead of her entire empire. "

She uses a man as a chewtoy in the first book, literally gaslights the protagonist of the second book about a corpse, and elder-abuses God when he gets depressed in the third book. Nobody is doing it like her.

Dives headfirst with no regrets while basically laughing and covered in blood into murdering her cavalier once she realizes what the gothic locked room mystery/competition leads to while everyone else is questioning it, helps perform lobotomy on harrow so she doesn't remember the person she loves, manipulates everyone to get to the top

idk just everything about her

her relationship with her sister is incredibly Bad, she fosters codependency and views Corona(the sister) as an extension of herself. This does not stop her from keeping up the con that Corona actually has magic (She doesn't, it was always just Ianthe) for 22ish years and every single person who interacts with them falls for it. She killed a man against his will (most dying for this purpose specifically go willingly) and she consumed him and she will be burning his soul for eternity. She's completely repulsive and still somehow incredibly hot.

she takes advantage of the fact that the main character is prone to hallucinations. at one point she gaslights the mc into believing that the corpse under her bed isn't real just because she can. she reverse engineered a set of very complex trials on her own without anyone realizing she had the skills to complete them normally. she's also babysat god through his drunk and pathetic era.

Artist: @midnightcrows