#<- i will be making a post of the both of them imminently

[cashewbenoit]

the birthday boy giving em the ol razzle dazzle

[brucewaynehater101]

love the idea of Tim thinking he’s being put through a ‘test’ of Bruce’s, when in fact it’s a real emergency. So when Tim like saves the whole batfam, he just goes “how did I score” to Bruce, finally making Bruce realize how deep the impact of his testing went in Tim’s brain

If Bruce was finally working at healing and redemption, then this is a great wake-up call for the man. There's a great amount of angst there. He should realize the errors of his ways and maybe acknowledge there's no way to fix the permanent mindset he instilled in a child. However, I don't think Bruce would outright notice anything wrong with Tim's behavior. They've established routines by now. The other kids, though? Their reaction would cue Bruce into how messed up it is.

A bit of a discret version of this would be Tim automatically filling out a mission report. Within the report, he lists his failures and mistakes he made on the mission. This could play out two ways.

One: another kid sees this and scoffs at Tim's perfectionism. It bubbles over into a fight where it reveals how Tim was constantly tested by Bruce with the imminent threat of being forced to quit and banned if he wasn't strong enough. Bruce couldn't stop Tim from being Robin, but he could make his life hell.

Two: Tim writes down the others' mistakes for improvement. This pisses someone off until someone eventually cues into this being an act of protection by Tim. He doesn't want them subjected to Bruce's training if they keep making the same mistakes.

Regardless, they find out how Bruce's constant testing, his trainings, and his treatment of Tim's Robin (and maybe even current treatment of Tim) has really screwed Tim up.

Another way to make this a great miscommunication angst would be Tim, post mission, not treating it with the seriousness it required. Everyone is down at the batcave trying to recover from their wounds and the trauma of what they've witnessed. Then Tim pipes up with a "how did I do, Batman?" Bruce automatically starts listing faults, and Tim just nods. Everyone else is floored because didn't they both just see that horrific shit that went down?

Tim is just high key dissociating to finish up protocol until he can go home and have a 5 hour long mental breakdown. Bruce is just finishing the list of protocols because it's a method of control and coping for him. It's also a habit.

[mint-yooxgi]

Dreamer - Yandere!Vampire!Yeosang

Yandere AU & Vampire AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Yeosang X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,771

Warnings: Hunter/Prey dynamics, Invasion of dreams mentioned multiple times, Possessive and sexual thoughts, violence and blood mentioned. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: It's been a while... sorry for the delay in posting things, like I said, life has been crazy! I hope you all enjoy this one, something short and sweet for you all. Dedicating this one to @anyamaris hehehe... As always, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

The Sixteenth and Final of The Feral Drabbles

The loud chiming of the clock tower rings through my ears, nearly drowning out all other sounds. Golden light filters in through the widows, filling the stone walls with the last rays of the setting sun. If I listen closely, I can still make out the faint sounds of your heavy breaths. You cannot escape me, Starling. No matter where you hide, no matter how far you run, I will always find you.

I don’t know how many times I have told you how futile it is to try and get away from me, but you never seen to want to listen. I’m starting to think you rather enjoy the chase. Something about the imminent danger I pose simply gets your blood thrumming with excitement. I can just tell.

Of course, I could end this all in an instant. I could appear beside you at any given moment. My speed and tracking abilities are unmatched, especially when I have what I want in my sights. Yet, where would the fun be in that? I love listening to your heart race because of me. I love knowing I can make your scent spike suddenly with the slightest of sounds. You can sense me getting closer, can’t you? You know that I always get what I want, and what I want is you.

You smell amazing… Have I said that already? That pungent aroma of fear, permeated with the slightest thrill of excitement. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. After all, I know you better than you know yourself. In time, I’ll show you just how perfect I am for you, just as I know how perfect you are for me.

For months I’ve been studying you. The shadows have always been my friends, but when it comes to you, I am the shadows. All those dark and lonely nights I watched you, longing to be beside you, and finally be able to hold you in my arms. I longed to be able to brush my fingertips over your face, tracing loving patterns into your skin that only I can see. I wish to be there for you, and I so badly want you to be there for me.

Your soul called to me. The scent of your blood intoxicates me. Your laugh enchants me, and your smile sets my long dead heart aflutter. Just the sight of you has brought me back to life in ways I never thought possible, and I will cling to that essence of vitality for as long as we both shall live.

There is no me if there is no you.

Now, if only you could see that.

I’ll admit, knocking you out and bringing you to an unknown location was probably not the best way to properly introduce myself. In my defence though, I did overhear you talking to that one friend of yours about certain particular fantasies you’ve always had. You’ll have to excuse me for jumping the gun. I got too excited, and besides, it’s not like you don’t know me.

For months I’ve been appearing in your dreams. It started out small, just in passing at first. A glance of my face here. A hint of my voice there. You seemed to be reacting positively to me, too! I noticed a few times you seemed to be looking forward to my slight visits. Sometimes, you’d even go so far as to continue searching for me in your mind when I passed by. A fact of which made me happy beyond doubt.

Then came the nightmares.

You’re prone to them, aren’t you? The darkest recesses of your mind which you hide away in the light come creeping out of the shadows to torture you while in your most vulnerable state. They’re relentless, and unforgiving. A hindrance to your livelihood which dulls your shine, and petrifies your strength.

You can see why I couldn’t have that. I vowed to keep you safe, and that will always include keeping you safe from yourself.

Which is why I had to step in. I couldn’t leave you to suffer all alone. Not only could I prove to you how valuable I could be to you in your dreams, but it let me interact with you. Even on a subconscious level, I could tell it was going to benefit me greatly. I could talk to you, protect you, keep you interested…

And interested you were! I can still recall the way your eyes felt raking over my full visage for the first time. I could tell that you liked me, and that only made me know stepping into your subconscious mind was the right thing to do. 

We were finally making progress! You could see me for who I was, and I could finally see you without hiding myself away. I could interact with you on a more personal level, even within a dream. 

Everything I said, everything I did, was real. There’s no question about it. I would never deceive you like that, anyways. You deserve my truth, for it will soon become yours as well.

Those nightmares, though recurring, also let me understand you better. Those monsters stalking your dreams will never be able to hurt you again. I made sure of it. I showed them what a true beast looked like. Though, I will say, feeling their blood drip from my hands after rendering them limb from limb is immensely more satisfying in real life than within any dream your mind can conjure. I only wish I could have inflicted more damage on them while they were still alive…

They didn’t suffer enough. Not after what they all did to you. Nobody hurts you, cheats you, lies to you and gets away with it. No one.

I’ll tear them all to shreds. I’ll rip their pathetic flesh from their bones and feed their mangled corpses to the sea. Hell is a blessing compared to what I have prepared for anyone that crosses you. After all, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you…

Oh, look at me… getting so caught up in my thoughts of you again that I nearly missed the sound of you changing your hiding place. It’s adorable how you think you can get away from me. As if you really want to. Why else would you have ran up the clocktower rather than out into the streets the first chance you got?

What will I get once I finally catch my prize? I’ll finally be able to properly feel your skin beneath my touch. Will you hold onto me as tightly as I’ll be holding onto you? Will you whisper my name so sweetly, granting me a long since desired wish? Or maybe, just maybe…a kiss? 

Oh, how I’ve longed to feel your lips pressed against my own, My Sweet Starling. Ever since that one fateful night, that glorious dream we shared, I’ve been longing to know what you taste like in real life. You’ve already let me touch you once before, now all there’s left to do is make your whole body shake in ecstasy in real life.

I know it was simply a dream, but fuck- I can still hear the way you cried out for me. The way your thighs wrapped around my head as I worshipped you between your legs… as I buried myself deep inside of you… I want to feel it again. This time, I want it to be real.

I want to hear those sinful lips of yours crying out my name. I want to hear you gasp as I sink my fangs into your flesh, and drink my fill of you. I want to feel your nails cutting into my back and pulling me closer because you cannot get enough of me. You already know that I can never get enough of you, and I will always prove that my love for you is true.

Oh, Starling… you’re going to make me moan if you keep smelling like that…

Delectable. Sinful.

…Mine.

Already I can feel my mouth salivating at the thought of catching you. My fangs are nearly pricking my lips. Starling, I don’t know if I can hold myself back for much longer…

I can hear your heart racing nearly in time with mine.

Tell me… are you as excited as I am right now? There’s something about the thrill of the chase, isn’t there? Knowing that I’m hunting you, wanting to catch you and finally make you mine. I swore to you that I meant you no harm, and that fact will always hold true. I will never hurt you. You are mine, and I am yours. That’s how it should be. That’s how it shall always be.

See! I knew you wouldn’t be able to deny me! We’re meant to be!

Look at you trying to be quiet after purposely giving away your location. It’s extremely endearing, you know. Try to hide all you want, but you can never escape the inevitable.

You may be able to lie to yourself, My Glorious Starling, but you cannot lie to me. Like I said before, I know you better than you know yourself. I can smell the excitement pouring off of you. You want me to catch you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to forget all that I’ve done for you in your dreams so easily. After all, my actions have always been, and will always be, as real as I am.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

The longer I let this go on, the more excited you seem to get. Just listen to your heart racing for me! It’s getting louder with each step, and this time, there’s nowhere you can run. This will be the last place you can ever hide from me. Or rather, should I say, the last place I’ll let you hide from me.

From now on, you’re mine.

Fuck- I haven’t felt this excited in centuries. Do you realize how special you are? My blood feels like it’s lighting a fire within my veins, and my hands are shaking. Do you see the effect you have on me?

And, oh, when I finally get my hands on you…

There will be no part of you untouched - unloved - by me. I plan to spend however long it takes worshipping you and showing you just how loved you are by me. Mentally, physically, spiritually… Nothing is too much for you. You deserve nothing but my best, and my best is what you’ve always deserved. Nothing less.

Tick tock, My Glorious Starling… Your time is up.

[d0rothydraws]

Plus size reader has been sick and busy for the last 2 weeks. Sylus has also been busy, resorting in them not having sex for that time. Then, you feel better one day.

content: f!reader, plus size reader, description of fat bodies, very body positive, oral f! receiving, teasing, smut

w/c: 2.4k

Ao3: Here

a/n: I had an idea and it turned into this which was NOT my idea but I hope you enjoy it anyways. I want to write more plus size content as a big girlie myself I need to make my own food for this community.

also i'll be posting less because I'm starting a new job but I'll try to post now and then but also i'm going to try and write a bunch of prompts and oneshots for kinktober so if i do write stuff, I might just be saving it for october.

if theres anything you want to see with any of the boys for kinktober, send me an ask or comment and i'll make a list. I'll write pretty much anything.

You and Sylus have been busy as of late. Meetings, work, other obligations that left you tired. On top of that, for the last week you've been fighting off a cold. So, reluctantly much to the both of you, you had not had sex for two weeks; which for you two, two weeks ago seemed impossible. Two weeks ago it seemed like every few hours you were being dragged away, pulled onto his lap, lifted onto the counter, in the shower, against the door. Everywhere, anytime.

Of course you both were pent up, but your relationship was more than sex. You enjoyed each others company, and he would hold you close no mater how worried you were about getting him sick. He would kiss your forehead, his touch gentle and caring as you waited until you recovered. You swore you drank a years worth of orange juice which, in turn, upset your stomach more. He would tease you about wanting to get better so quickly, that he enjoyed taking care of you. But you knew he was just as eager as you.

So when you woke up one night you noticed how you felt imminently.

The feeling in your throat, gone. The weight behind your eyes, gone. The soreness in your stomach, gone. It was like you were a new person. As you sat up in the bed, knowing Sylus was still awake, probably in the attic watching a movie, your heart raced. You already felt the excitement build inside you as you just thought about what the next couple hours would consist of.

You changed clothes, your frumpy baggy night clothes replaced with a thin tank top that left nothing to the imagination. The curve of your soft stomach poked out slightly through the bottom of the fabric. Shorts replacing the thick pajama pants you've been wearing for two weeks straight. You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased at the display. You weren't shy about your body. Not anymore, not worth him. He told you time and time again how your curves drove him wild, how his hands would sink into your body. The way your thighs touched and shook as you walked. You caught him looking more than a couple times. And now, with everything on display, your mission had begun.

Making your way up the stairs to the attic you didn't try to be quiet. You knew he would be able to hear you, anyways, you wanted him to see you. As you immerged, the room was dark. Sylus preferred to use a projector, the white canvas stretching the entirety of the wall beside the door. And in an instant, his eyes were on you. The red piercing the darkness more than the projector light did. You didn't hesitate or falter though as you walked right past him to the little bar that was behind the couch.

"What's got you all dressed down, kitten. Did you get too hot?" He said the concern clear in his voice but also, there was a roughness that he's been holding back for weeks present. You felt the sound make your head spin.

"Yeah, I got another hot flash." You said moving to grab a bottle of water that you knew you weren't going to drink, but you wanted to catch him off guard. "What are you watching?" You asked as you moved to stand behind the couch. You could nearly see the hair on the back of his head prickle at your presence. Before he could answer you leaned down, your lips pressing against his ear. Your voice low, your chest pressed against the edge of the couch, against his back as he felt your soft body against him making his breath hitch. "I don't think I seen this one before."

You felt his body tense against you, his hand on his drink tensed as your hand moved over his chest, feeling his muscles flex under his sweat shirt. He turned his head trying to look at you, but in turn, you took advantage, pushing your lips against his now exposed neck. What you didn't expect, was for him to moan.

"I thought you were still sick, sweetie." He said with an edge to his voice as he tried to not let his emotions get the better of him. But you both knew he was more sensitive than what he wanted you to believe. As he felt your teeth graze his neck, you moved back up to his ear, catching the lobe softly with your tongue.

"I was. And now I'm not." You said matter-of-factly, leaning more over the couch so he could feel your chest on the back of his neck. Sylus moved his hand, trying to touch you, any part of you before you moved away, circling the couch. You stood Infront of him, your body casting a shadow on the movie. His eyes raked down your body, his cheeks having a faint red glow. Slowly you walked over to him, your thighs trapping him against the couch. You sat back on him, watching his throat constrict slightly as his hand touched the soft curve on your side.

"You look very appetizing right now." He said with a groan, feeling your body in his hands, his cock twitching under your ass that was barely covered by your shorts. "Are you sure you're feeling better. If we start it will be hard for me to stop especially when you look like this." He said, his breath heavy as his hands moved to your love handles, the soft dough like area melting under his fingers as he started to sink his fingers more into you. His hands kneading your body as his cock twitched again. You pressed against him, your stomach and chest soft against his hard one, filling the space between your two bodies.

"Aw are you saying I'm cute? I could say the same about you." You teased as your own hands moved to the hem of his shirt. He helped you, taking his hands off you just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it to the side of the couch. His eyes narrowed at your comment but he smirked softly, enjoying the hunger in your eyes as you looked at his body. His muscles flexed, so defined, strong. And yours on top of him. Soft, more curves than he could hold in one hand and just as sexy as him. You complimented each other.

"Oh darling you're much more than cute" He purred, his hands on you again as he trailed down your curves to grasp the side of your thigh. His other hand moved to the top of your tank top, pulling it down more and more until it ripped. He watched as your chest was slowly revealed more as he stretched out the already thin shirt. The sight made his mouth water. You shivered, watching as your chest shook softly from the fabric ripping, the rest of your shirt falling off of your shoulders. You teased him, using your arms to press your tits together, shaking them slightly. You seen a spark flash in his eye before his head pressed into the cleavage.

His eyes looked up at you as you moaned, feeling his tongue lick at one nipple a your other nipple as being pinched and played with by his fingers. You ground your hips against him, moaning as you felt him bite your nipple as if giving a warning. That didn't stop you from doing it again though. And this time, he ground back. Slow, and steady. He pulled his mouth away from you, a long string of saliva attaching him to your nipple before it broke.

Your hands moved to his chest, the palms brushing over the skin as you ground again, his hands moving to your hips, holding you still. In seconds, you felt the couch against your back, one leg hanging off of the couch due to the width of your thighs, but it only made his job easier since you were practically on display for him.

His hands moved over your body, body caging you in as he left no inch left untouched and un-kissed. He started at your neck, peppering kisses as he licked down between your chest, his hands returning for a second before he continued lower. He kissed down your stomach, taking extra time for his hands to play with you some more. To feel your weight in his hands, how your body was so soft against his. His hands weren't shy about any rolls you had, or extra softness. If anything he took his time to appreciate every curve, his hands and fingers making your dizzy as he slowly reached the top of your shorts.

His hands slipped under the band of your shorts, pulling them down to find the lack of underwear. He chuckled, trailing kisses down your soft thighs, nipping the inside gently as he felt you twitch and shiver from his touch.

"No panties? What a naughty kitten." He purred as he licked the inside of your thigh again, his other hand pulling the one that was hanging off the couch to rest on his shoulder. Before you could answer, his face was between your thighs. He had the hunger of a man that hadn't eaten in weeks. And in a way, he hadn't. One hand moved to grope your stomach, fingers squeezing and kneading the softness you had as his tongue pushed inside you. He moaned, breath heavy as you clenched around his tongue, pulling your hips closer, forcing his tongue deeper.

"You taste sweeter than I remember. All of that orange juice might have had something to do with it." He growled, pulling back for a moment as you gasped for breath at the sudden stop. You looked at him, the sight of his face covered in your juices, how he licked his lips. His free hand moved between your thighs, gently pushing two fingers in at once. Your body arched, eyes rolling back as he moved his mouth back to meet his hand. His lips moving to suck and lick your clit until you were shaking and begging him to not stop. As you came on his fingers, he licked you clean, not wasting a single drop as he pulled away, purring softly. "Delicious." He said, his voice heavy with arousal.

As you caught your breath, he moved off of the couch, discarding his pants and boxers. You looked at him, moaning softly as you felt heat flood your body at the sight of his thick dripping cock. It had been 2 weeks since you took him, and a thrill went through your body as you wondered how he would feel after so long. A hand moved to his cock as he rubbed himself, walking to you. His eyes raking over your body. You moved one leg over the back of the couch as if to draw him in more, if that was even possible.

As he repositioned over you, he kissed you slowly. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him, kissing back. A hand moved to your cheek as his thumb trailed your jaw. After a moment he pulled back, his voice earnest and soft.

"It's been a while, so I'll start slow." He said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wetness, coating himself slightly. You gave a soft nod, your heart fluttering at his sincerity before he started to push in.

Your body went numb. Your cheeks flushed as your mouth opened. every nerve in your body contracted at the feeling. Pure pleasure and some pain as you felt your body stretch. He did move slow, but the moans he made, the grunts as you clenched around him, it made it hard for the both of you. You knew he was big, you've fucked more times than you could count. But in your abstinence, your body forgot.

"God, Sylus." You moaned, a hand curling in his hair, another clawing his arm. "You feel bigger than I remember." You gasped out, nails digging into him which made him rut slightly, pushing more into you as you cried out.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm almost offended. But I suppose it's more of a happy surprise." He said with a chuckle before he bottomed out. Your head was empty, the only thing that felt empty if you were honest. The only thought was him. How full he made you feel. How deep he was, how much he stretched you as you shook around him. No wonder you fucked him several times a day, his cock was like a drug. A drug made for you and you alone.

As he started to move his hands grabbed your love handles, fingers sinking into the flesh as he pulled you closer. Your body jiggled with each thrust, your chest bouncing, thighs wobbling, stomach shaking. Sylus growled softly, his eyes darkening at the sight as his thrusts got rougher as if to see how much he could make your body bounce from his cock.

Soon, you felt his hips start to stutter. One of his hands moved to between your thighs, thumb working the hard little nub that was begging to be touched. As he felt you clench around him, moaning and clawing his arm which was definitely going to leave a mark, he felt how close you were. Your moans getting louder, your cries getting higher pitched as your face grew more red, legs shaking around him.

"You look so good like this under me." He said, his voice heavy with need as he continued his movement. His comment pushed you over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a wave. You gasped out his name, hand falling off of his arm. Seconds later he followed after you, groaning as he painted the inside of your walls with his thick cum. He continued to pump into you, slower as he released, riding it out. Your eyes rolled as you whimpered. Had he not came this whole time? There was so much. You shivered as you felt your body get aroused again, feeling how much he was filling you before finally pulling out, his cock still half half. He panted, leaning over you as he put one arm on the couch arm rest.

Kissing you slowly, he brought his other hand to your face, holding you firmly. There was heat behind the kiss. His body still burning with that need for you.

"I hope you're not tired." He said against your lips, his hands moving to rub the expanse of your thighs. "Because we have to make up for lost time."

[trentsgirl]

— 📞 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: your cat, nemo, is an absolute menace. will he get along with your boyfriend’s dog?

⟡ note: thank u so much for the request, i absolutely love this idea:))

⟡ request: here:))

⟡ masterlist.

“she’s glaring,” joão points out solemnly, body sprawled over the couch in a relaxed manner, and with you by his side.

nemo, your orange cat, fixates her gaze upon joão’s dog, floki, emanating an aura of palpable hostility. her eyes, brimming with an intensity that signals imminent peril.

your lips subtly take the form of a slender line, discerning the overt animosity that permeates nemo’s eyes. positioned a mere few inches away from floki, she assumes a defensive stance, her demeanor reflecting a mix of caution and hostility, as evidenced by her elevated tail.

“she’s just checking to make sure he’s not dangerous,” you confidently assert, although a hint of hesitation lingers in your words. deep down, you can only hope that nemo won’t unexpectedly lash out.

she’s quite the menace.

“nah, can’t you see those eyes? she obviously wants to annihilate floki,” joão proclaims, his voice dripping with solemnity, despite the situation not being so grave.

however, both of you are resolute in your determination to make your pets get along. after all, you hoped that one day you would move in together, and it would be challenging to handle if nemo and floki despised each other.

“annihilate? you’re exaggerating now,” you roll my eyes. “she’s just a cat, not a murderer,” you add, playfully ruffling joão’s hair.

joão gazes into your eyes with a serious expression. “she could be with those eyes,” he retorts, removing your hand from his hair. “and stop messing with my hair,” he adds, slightly annoyed.

as your banter and minor disagreement persist, nemo takes a few more cautious steps towards floki, who lies on his dog bed, brimming with trepidation.

“even your dog is scared of her, both you are such cowards.” you deadpan, voice laced with a thick layer of sarcasm, as you cast a scornful gaze upon your boyfriend.

“mind you, your menace of a cat almost clawed my eye out the first i’d met her,” he asserts, his words evoking an unsettling memory that causes a shiver to ripple down your spine.

“she may not have taken an immediate liking to you, yeah. but, she’s very fond of you now,” you assert, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within you in support of your beloved nemo.

joão falls silent, his gaze fixed upon the two pets, his eyes widening in astonishment. you tear my eyes away from joão, directing my attention towards nemo and floki.

a heartwarming sight greets you as you witness the two furry pets snuggled together, their bond evident in their affectionate embrace.

“am i dreaming or is nemo finally acting… civil,” joão muses, his voice tinged with bewilderment and astonishment. the unexpected behavior of nemo has left you both perplexed and amazed.

“i can’t believe this…”

yourusername posted…

liked by joaofelix79, yourbestfrienduser, and 192,024 others

yourusername teaching them to be like us 🤍 [tagged joaofelix79]

view comments…

yourbestfrienduser i’m genuinely surprised nemo let anyone touch her

yourusername trust me, us too

joaofelix79 your cat is a mence.

yourusername and urs a coward.

[camplease]

harrow grew in her emotional awareness of other people as people at an incredible rate during the events of gideon the ninth, a rate that honestly stretches the bounds of plausibility. and i think a lot of it, maybe even most of it, was specifically a reaction to an awareness of gideon, specifically, in genuine mortal danger that harrow had never previously considered

even before harrow was able to accept that she feels any affection for gideon, her covetousness of gideon's presence is evident. but, on drearburh, even though there might’ve conceivably been natural disasters outside of harrow's control that could’ve changed this, i think gideon’s survival of the child massacre made gideon seem like an almost supernaturally ever-present fixture of harrow’s universe. no matter how much gideon bled and broke in those 17 years, i don’t think harrow had truly considered the reality of gideon’s mortality before

when harrow thought of losing gideon, she thought of gideon escaping. prior to canaan house, though death involving those close to her was already something harrow knew intimately well, each example is inextricably connected to its specific context. with "the body," the cause of death didn't pose any immediate, direct threat to harrow or those she cared about. as horrific all of drearburh’s children’s deaths were, as heavily as they weighed on harrow, this was a part of her history rather than an imminent threat. and, as much grief and sorrow that the personal responsibility harrow felt for her parents’ suicides colored her existence, as much as she even once blamed gideon, ultimately, harrow's parents killed themselves. these were all so different by their very nature from the deaths at canaan house and the possibilities they illuminated. something or someone was maliciously seeking out those among her in the present. gideon's very existence could no longer be taken for granted, never mind simply losing possession of her

i believe that both accepting her own care for gideon and accepting the risk of losing gideon beyond losing control over her is what led harrow to assess the inherent harm and dehumanization of their power imbalance and to begin to understand the flaws in her worldview overall, the flaws in the system that granted her and others in power the power to abuse it at will and use those under them as tools

but the reason why i say this was a lot of/most of and not all of the reason for harrow's growth is because i think she always had some latent capacity for it that she'd just previously suppressed. and i don't think this is unique to harrow. i think the worst people within any system wear away at their humanity, and, thus, their ability to perceive the humanity of others and act accordingly, a bit at a time. but this process isn't irreversible. harrow's relation to gideon was just the catalyst for that reversal in her

i can’t say exactly who harrow would’ve become without gideon at canaan house with her for the lyctoral trials, but she would’ve certainly been very different from the person she is now

decided to make my own post because i was thinking about this poll way too much and it led me to a big enough tangent that it's its own creature at this point, though i also wanna credit that initial spark

[dark-and-kawaii]

Worth The Risk

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: You knew the risk of carrying Haarlep’s child, knew it could end your life, yet you still pleaded with Haarlep not to intervene. Haarlep, despite your pleas, couldn’t imagine a life without their little dove.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I wrote this a long time ago but decided it was time to finally post it!!!

⋆˙⟡♡ Pregnancy | Angst

As the savage agony of parturition tore through your body, your face twisted in harrowing torment, fingers digging into the flesh of your swollen belly. Beside you, Haarlep loomed, their gaze alight with an unholy blend of enthrallment and uneasiness. They found a perverse solace in witnessing the suffering of others, yet within this cruel spectacle, a sliver of apprehension flickered to life… This was you, not some brat cambion or mortal to pass the time…

You could feel yourself teeter on the brink of collapse, your screams piercing the air as your knees finally buckled. Compelled by a force they scarcely understood, Haarlep's hands reached for you before you crumpled beneath the unbearable onslaught. Their touch, paradoxically tender, cradled your quaking frame, their tail coiling around your leg, steadying you against the imminent descent onto the unforgiving ground.

It was odd. An incubus, a creature of seduction and ruin, serving as a pillar of support for another whom was trying to bear their child.

Chaos reigned, and within it, Haarlep's eyes grew round as they beheld a bloom of red seeping into the fabric of your gown. A torrent of foreign sentiment overwhelmed Haarlep, dragging down their heart, a heart once deemed impervious to the weaknesses of mortals, with a dread they had never known…

The incubus had bound themself to a code of restraint in their fervid trysts with you, vowing never to indulge, to feed, in excess so that they could keep you. Yet now, confronted with the life they had seeded within you… It would seem fate had cruelly conspired to make Haarlep the architect of your ruin.

Within the twisted catacombs of their mind, the incubus clawed through the dark recesses for an answer, a twisted salvation for you who had snared them in the most intoxicating bind. You were their prize, theirs to claim, theirs to torment, a soul ensnared by chains of a ravenous desire Haarlep would not, could not, break... A possession they refused to relinquish.

Damn the offspring, for you were the one that mattered, the beating heart the incubus was hell-bent on keeping tethered to this mortal coil.

The final vision bestowed upon you was a twisted sneer, yet the eyes of Haarlep, your beloved incubus, was filled with so much pain... pain you wished to cease, damns how you yearned to caress their face, to whisper that everything was okay. Alas, the abyss called to you, and your world dissolved into oblivion, your whisper lost in the void…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Haarlep, an incubus known in realms for their insatiable hunger for the carnal, found themself lost in a moment so tender and new.

There, in the quiet of the room you lay upon the bed, a figure both broken and beatific, your skin a canvas painted with the sheen of exertion. Strands of hair, once perfect, now clung desperately to your damp forehead, framing your face in disarray. Your closed eyes, sunken with fatigue. The air was thick with the iron scent of birth and the unspoken fear of what had come to pass. Your chest rose and fell with labored effort, each breath a testament to the life that sprung forth from you, that had sipped greedily at your soul, leaving it frayed at the edges.

Beside you, lying on a silk pillow wrapped messily in a blanket, a newborn, an improbable result of Haarlep's latest conquest... The child, innocence incarnate, cooed and wriggled, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just transpired.

A war raged within the incubus, an inner turmoil so intense it threatened to tear him asunder. Their nature was to seduce, to corrupt, to feed on the lustful energy of others, not to nurture or to cherish. Yet, the sight of this tiny being, part of them, part of you, ignited an unfamiliar warmth that crept through them like a stray beam of sunlight piercing through a perennially dark forest, gently awakening the dormant life beneath its shadows.

Haarlep’s hand, more accustomed to leading others into sin than to acts of gentle kindness, moved on its own, as if enchanted, and wiggled it before their offspring. The newborn's tiny fingers wrapped around their larger digit, and a sensation that Haarlep could not name surged through them. It was as if the grip of this miniature hand had the power to anchor even the most chaotic of beings.

The incubus’s tail, an appendage that had tormented many, now danced softly, tickling the child, eliciting a gurgling giggle that filled the room with a purity that felt almost unpleasant. This sound, this unadulterated joy, was a melody Haarlep's ears had never known, yet it resonated within the corner of their heart that was solely meant for you.

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze heavy with the remnants of pain and fatigue. As your eyes adjusted and focused on Haarlep, there was no fear, no judgment, only the hazy recognition of the father to your child. You caught them in this softness, this unguarded moment that was so perilously close to something like love.

With what little strength, you weakly shifted, turning to envelop your newborn in the cradle of your weary arms. Your eyelids, heavy with the weight of your ordeal, fluttered down as a sincere smile blossomed across your features, signaling a quiet triumph. Haarlep's tail came to rest gently across both you and the child, a silent but potent symbol of their unexpected guardianship.

[myownwholewildworld]

11. NO MATTER WHAT?

chapter 10 | main masterlist | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 12 (soon) pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: in your pursuit to find tommy, you find out something else. a/n: hello there! c: eeeeeek we are getting close to the endgame here! i finally sat down and wrote down small summaries for the next chapters so i could have a better idea of how many there were actually left - a total of 15 plus an epilogue. so this story will be drawing to a close soonish but in the meantime, please enjoy this rollercoaster :D all interactions welcome, i'd like to read your thoughts on this! take care <3 x warnings below the cut! please beware, they contain MAJOR spoilers so read them at your own peril. don't come at me please. dividers by @saradika-graphics w/c: ~7.8k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

warnings: 18+, mdni. some smutty smut. masturbation (m and f receiving). unprotected piv. sprinkles of anxiety, anguish and angst here and there. unplanned pregnancy. tempers run a bit high. sarah is in joel's mind. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

“How are you feeling?”

Joel’s voice brought you back to reality, along with a slam of the driver’s door. Your mind had been drifting away, almost falling into a slumber, for the past thirty minutes. You had not even realised that the car had stopped until Joel closed the door behind him.

Your elbow was propped against the window frame, your face buried in the crook of it. Slowly you blinked with a pitiful groan, straightening out your crouched back. For the past month, sleep had been evading you. Funny that, considering how fucking tired you were. And the more tired you were, the more difficult it was to fall asleep. Your bones ached, your joints hurt, your mind was fuzzy ― you felt terrible overall. Many mornings you felt sick too, which did not help. On a few occasions you had woken Joel up with your retching ― and every time, he stayed awake with you, not even once did he complain.

The dreadful pain would vanish gradually over the course of the day and would worsen at night again. The clicker’s bite on your forearm had almost healed, but there were some tiny parts of it that were still open and oozed from time to time ― it didn’t matter how hard you both tried to keep it clean. Fits of itchiness would overcome you and Joel had to pin your wrists against his chest so you would not make the gash worse.

The first week after you were marked, you had actually been doing alright. The thrill of the moment and the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you crossed Illinois were, most probably, what had kept you standing on your feet.

And now that the imminent feeling of death had faded, Chicago well behind you, your body was begging you for a fucking break. But there were no breaks in the apocalypse.

“Darlin’?”, Joel placed his hand on your left thigh.

“Tired.” You sighed heavily as you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands. “I can’t sleep.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He lightly squeezed your thigh between his fingers, and you finally looked at him, a weak smile smoothing out your lips. “We’ll find a proper place to stay tonight.”

“Where are we?”, you asked, looking through the passenger’s window.

You had stopped in the middle of a road. A sea of green surrounded you ― a dense wood of pine and oak englobed the asphalt. And then, further afield on your left, you could see blue and sandy brown in between the trees. There was a mist coming off the water and blurring the atmosphere, giving the whole scene a mystic, eerie feeling.

“Lake Ontario, just circumvented Buffalo. I saw the gas station and thought to give it a go”, he explained, pointing with his thumb through the driver’s window.

Then you saw the service station he was referring to.

“Any luck?” You hovered your hand over his on your thigh and intertwined your fingers. His warmth was comforting in the bare coldness of January.

“Surprisingly yes. I was able to siphon out around four gallons from one of them pumps. I’ve just put it all in our tank. Should be more than enough to get to Oswego, even with detours.” Even though Joel’s voice was calm, you could tell he was preoccupied.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes meeting yours. He was doing so much for you, and basically all on his own. He drove you out of Chicago while the whole city got swamped by hordes of clickers. For the first week after that day, you both took turns to drive and keep watch at night, but when your body finally gave in, you completely relied on him.

He hadn’t told you out loud, but you could see the worry darkening his chocolate eyes with greyish circles underneath. You knew he was concerned about your health, about the car and gas, about the food, about the safety of being back in the wilderness. Joel was taking good care of you ― you had been so blinded by your own battles that you had not even expressed your gratitude.

“I’m sorry I’m not much help. Thank you for―”

“Don’t even mention it.” He cut you off instantly, pulling from your laced hands so your cheek would land on his chest. “You’re sick, honey. It’s the least I can do.”

Joel’s balmy lips pressed against your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting his warmth seep into your cold bones, softening your taut muscles. You looked up at him with your mouth agape and Joel bowed down to brush your lips with his ― a chaste kiss in a rare moment of peace and quiet.

“I’ll drive to Pembroke and find a house ― we’ll spend the night there and resume the trip in the late morning or early afternoon, depending on how you’re feeling. Sounds good?”

You nodded, burrowing your cheek in his padded jacket. You both stayed still for a couple more minutes before Joel, with a heavy sigh, pulled back to introduce the key in the ignition and start the car.

For the last three weeks, you both had been reassessing your options. Chicago had been an idyllic dream for a short while, but congregating so many people in a small space seemed to have been a siren’s call for the clickers. After much debating, Joel and you had decided to stay away from civilisation.

It had also taken you as long to convince Joel to find Tommy. It was more than obvious that the brothers were not on good terms, considering how the younger one had threatened to kill you the moment he found out you had been bit. You couldn’t blame him for it, as you were sure you would have reacted the same way.

But Joel was not so inclined to forgive his brother. Tommy had made him choose between you and him, told him to get rid of you, even when he had tried to tell the younger Miller what his true feelings for you were. And despite it all, Tommy had ditched you both. But especially Joel, when he needed family the most ― when the dire situation required Tommy to step up, he had stepped down. With that you did not agree, obviously, although you could somewhat understand Tommy’s actions.

After long, dragging talks, Joel had agreed to look for Tommy. The group he was with was not the most convenient if their behaviour in Chicago was to be taken into account. The drugs, the alcohol, the late nights ― they could not afford such way of life out there, not without the safety net of a whole town. Tommy was the only family Joel, and by extension you, had left ― despite it all, family protected family.

Somewhere in Lake Ontario was the safest bet to find him. Laney would listen to Tommy, and if Joel was right, he would pick the same town the older Miller would: Oswego, especially in winter. That was where the Miller brothers and their father would go ice fishing on their weekend trips, so both of them were acquainted with the land.

The purring sound of the engine smothered your thoughts until that was all you could hear. Your eyelids felt heavy, dry even, so you unknowingly let them close with a deep sigh before you were lost to your dreams.

“Darlin’,” Joel stroked your hair, his fingers curling on your chin. “We’re here.”

Slowly you blinked, coming out of your sleepy stupor. Joel was standing outside the passenger’s door, the cold breeze bursting into the cabin. You had dozed off so hard, you had not even heard him leaving the car and opening your door.

“Can you walk? I can carry you.” He asked, no shade of doubt in his words.

Imagining Joel carrying you through a doorframe as if you were newlyweds made you smile. Maybe in a different lifetime or in a parallel universe could you have that destiny. Not in this one, sadly.

“I’m fine walking.”

Joel’s eyes met yours, a slight tilt to his head indicating he did not get why you were smiling. You waved your hand as if to say, “don’t worry about it”, and tried to step out of the car, but his frame was blocking your exit.

You cocked an inquisitive brow.

“What? You don’t think I can?” The challenge in his voice was there, ready for you to pick on it.

You laughed it off as you stirred in your seat, your legs dangling off the car seat now in between his legs. Joel didn’t budge one inch.

“I know you can. You’ve proved it a few times now.” You hoped that would ease him.

Joel grunted and you knew he was considering proving it to you once more. But you didn’t give him the chance to do so, standing up so close to him your body slammed into his. A strong arm wrapped around your waist to prevent you from falling back on to the car seat.

His welcoming mouth was so near hovering over yours, your mind just went poof for a second. Joel’s imposing presence always clouded your judgment, especially when he was this close to you. He made all your neuron synapses go haywire, even more when you were tired and achy.

“And you won’t let me show you again, I take it?” He whispered, his lips intently moving against yours with every word, your lungs taking in his sweet breath as if his oxygen was the only one that could truly feed them.

You were barely able to shake your head no. And then some neurons finally connected, allowing you to place a hand on his hard chest to push him back a bit with a sufficient grin.

“You won’t bewitch me so easily, Miller.”

He cackled, taking a step back and shaking his head with disbelief.

“You hurt my feelings, darlin’.” He faked some puppy eyes that made you swoon a little, but didn’t give in.

“I sure do…” You muttered, the shared joke letting you forget your fatigue.

Getting out of the car, the piercing January breeze knifed your skin. You were not accustomed to the northern cold ― Texas had treated you well with fairly mild winters but scorching hot summers. There had been instances where the Texan weather reached freezing temperatures, but it was not as common as up here.

You walked around the Jeep with Joel by your side, his arm draped around your shoulders to keep you close to his body heat. He had parked the car in between some tall, thick, evergreen bushes, tucked away out of sight. He then pointed to a house ― single storey, with a washed green façade and a tiny porch with a white door.

A couple of minutes later, you were inside. It was still cold, but not as bad as it was out there. The living room was small and outdated with clashing hues of brown, red and orange. The curtains were drawn, and it smelt a bit musky, layers of dust sitting atop the furniture. You were not expecting a five-star hotel, so this place would definitely do. It was isolated and off the main roads, so there would be less chances of running into some undesirable situations. Or people ― especially people.

You braced yourself to keep your core temperature as high as possible, and Joel noticed it.

“There’s a chimney but can’t get a fire going. It would give us away.” You could hear the unspoken apology in his tone. “But I’ve left a pile of blankets there.”

Joel pointed to the old-fashioned, floral-stamped couch that reminded you of one in your grandparents’ house. The quilts were bunched together, and all of your packed belongings were sitting on the floor ― you guessed Joel had taken everything out of the car while you had a little power nap.

As you approached and ran your fingers through the fleece to test the softness of the fabric, Joel grabbed one and wrapped you in it like a burrito.

“Do you have your gun?” He asked, lifting your chin up.

You nodded ― you always had it fastened to your belt. Since Chicago, you made sure you were armed at all times.

“Good. I need you to stay here while I go have a snoop around town.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You squinted your eyes with dissent, and then took off the blanket that he had covered you with to leave it on the couch.

“Not gonna happen, gorgeous. I’m coming with you.” Not because you were afraid of being left alone, but because you did not trust this world you lived in. If something was about to happen while he was out and about, you wanted to be right by his side.

He rolled his eyes at you but knew better than fighting you on this.

“So stubborn, aren’t you?”

“You wouldn’t love me any other way.” You replied with a beaming smile, lacing a hand with his and pulling him towards the door.

Joel snorted, a warm tautness nipping at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s true.”

“Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni?” You read the label of a tin can out loud, brows pinching with amusement. “I thought they had gone out of business ages ago.”

“What? Of course not.” You could tell he was offended by the tone of his voice.

You smirked when he trotted towards you and snatched the can off your hand.

“It’s one of the best brands out there for canned food.” He lectured you, sliding the can in his backpack.

“I prefer anything from Campbell’s a thousand times over.” You jested as your hands travelled through the almost empty shelves, finding a sample of that same brand. “Their canned spaghetti is unbeatable.” You pinched your fingers together and smacked your lips, as if you were an Italian chef blowing a kiss.

“Do not start this feud between us, sweetheart. I can forgive many things, but not this senseless provocation.” His words were imbued with harshness, but his lips were softened by a crooked smile.

You giggled, putting away the can in your backpack, and proceeded to wander off further in the grocery store until you reached the pharmacy section. Medical supplies were really hard to come by and with an open wound like yours, they were very much needed. So, you rummaged through the shelves ― you would take anything you could find.

After a few minutes, you had located some sterile wound dressings, a couple of roller bandages, cleansing wipes and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. You had also found one pack of expired painkillers ― you could not get too picky with expiry dates on the apocalypse.

You knelt down to put everything away in your rucksack when something caught your attention. There was a single pack of sanitary pads sitting at the back of the bottom shelf. Feminine hygiene products were so hard to come by, you seized it in the blink of an eye.

In doing so, you hit another cardboard box out of the way. Curious, you grabbed it and turned it around in your hands. The white letters against the blue background read, “Clearblue Easy digital pregnancy test.” You had seen the TV ads before the world went to shit, but didn’t pay them too much attention. Apparently, it was a new technology with a digital screen that would show the words “Pregnant” or “Not pregnant”. Fancy stuff, really. You kept on reading the small text on the package, mindlessly interested.

Your period should have come a few days ago. But ever since your teen years, it was never regular, making it very hard to predict ― so it didn’t worry you too much. In fact, it was completely normal for you, so you put the box back down on the shelf.

Wait. What day is it? You suddenly thought, trying to recall an image of a calendar in your head. With your fingers curled in a fist, you lifted one at a time while you did the mental calculations.

Then it hit you. Your period was not just a few days late, but two weeks. The latest it had ever been was five days, so fourteen ―fuck, fifteen!― days were definitely not normal for your cycle. Your hands began shaking as you started counting again ― maybe you had forgotten how to do basic maths mentally?

Your heart was pounding so hard and fast, a rush of blood heavily pumping through your eardrums, you almost missed Joel’s call.

“Hey, sweetheart. Where are ya?” His booted steps were fast approaching.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. HOLY SHIT. FUCK.

Panic boiled inside you as you wildly looked around ― Joel’s shoes were on the other side of the shelves.

Just in the nick of time, you shoved the pregnancy test box down in your bag, hiding it between all the other bits you had collected, just as Joel turned the corner into the corridor you were at.

You tried your best to feign normalcy as Joel inched forward towards you and extended a hand to help you get up. You accepted it and stood up, trying to hide your eyes away from him by pretending to secure your backpack.

“Did you find anything useful?” He innocently asked, and you almost choked with the bare air that filled up the room.

“Y-yeah,” you tried your best not to stutter, but your nerves had a tight grip on your vocal cords, “some first aid stuff for my wound.”

Why were you omitting your most important finding? Joel should be aware; you should tell him about what was plaguing you right now.

But you didn’t. Don’t want to worry him unnecessarily if it’s just a false alarm, you told yourself.

Joel cocked his head, and you were sure he had perceived your nervousness, but he didn’t press the matter, for which you were grateful.

“Let’s go back then. Found some more food and hygiene stuff ― a couple of toothbrushes, ain’t it exciting?” He grinned and you made your best effort to return the gesture.

“You do know how to make someone’s day.” You joked back, but your feeble attempt at normality ate at his conscience.

It was well past midnight and Joel felt you stirring in his arms. The couch was not too big, so any small movement would startle him awake. Not that he was really sleeping anyway, too worried about the threats out there that could ruin the fragile peace of the night.

Your elbow sank in his ribs, and he swallowed a painful grunt.

“Sorry, Joel. I just can’t find the posture to fall asleep. I can go to the other couch if you―”

“Nonsense.” He interrupted you before you could suggest sleeping apart.

Maybe the couch was not the best option, but the bedroom was far too exposed to the main road for his liking. The living room, on the other hand, was facing towards the back of the property and was close to the door that led to the backyard, where the Jeep was hidden. So you both had to make do with the uncomfortable sofa.

He liked having you splayed out on top of him, your cold toes pressed against his bare feet looking for some warmth. He had covered you both with three thick blankets, your head almost tucked underneath with your cheek resting on his chest.

He stroked your hair, knowing that something was off. Joel could not pinpoint what exactly, but he was sure there was something on your mind worrying you. It pained him that you wouldn’t share what it was, especially after everything you had been through together. There should be no need to fence off your feelings away from him, but he understood that he couldn’t push you to share with him whatever preoccupied your mind.

Mainly because he also had worries of his own that he kept to himself. Like keeping you alive, for instance. How close Joel had been to losing you had unleashed a new wave of anxiety ― there was no room for mistakes anymore, he had promised himself. He would die before having you in harm’s way again.

You snuggled against his chest, looking for some comfort, while his arms embraced you tighter. Then he felt one of your cold hands snaking under his tee shirt, caressing his lower tummy.

His body reacted unwillingly at your touch, your hand too close to where he liked it most. Joel took a deep breath, and you snickered above him.

“You okay?” You teased, chin planted on his left pec and wicked eyes staring up at him.

“Mhmm,” was his way of saying yes. “Are you achy?”

“If you mean if something hurts, then no. I took two painkillers a couple of hours ago, so I’m actually pain-free right now. If you mean achy, like really achy… then yes.” Your voice lowered to a seductive whisper, your thumb rubbing the hairy trail running down his belly button.

“Jesus fucking Christ, honey.” He cooed when the same hand dipped under the waistband of the loose pants he used for sleeping.

“Are you achy, Joel?” You whispered in his ear as your fingers curled around his length.

“You need to rest―” He started scolding you, but you were having none of it.

You squeezed his manhood so sweet, with the perfect amount of pressure, he could not finish the sentence because a groan bubbled up his throat.

“I need to stop overthinking stuff, and I can think of a way to achieve that…” You purred again, your hand so still it was driving him crazy.

“What’s on your mind?” Even through the sensual haziness, he worried about you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing important… Don’t worry about it,” you husked, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers firmly clutched around his girth while you began pumping him. Joel closed his eyes, swallowing a growl ― anything he was thinking about, had just gone out of the window of his mind.

He hunted down your mouth until a sultry dance of tongues ensued, your hand stroking his beating cock with determination. Joel fisted one of your ass cheeks when his balls began to feel heavy and hot. He then positioned you on top of him, straddling him, and sat up a little on the couch, the small of his back resting against the arm of the couch.

You pulled down his pants and underwear, freeing his demanding and leaking erection. You did not like to waste a drop, not even a tiny one, so you quickly smothered his sensitive head with your thumb, smearing the precum over his tip. Joel loved it when you did that.

Leaving a trail of wet kisses where your neck met your shoulder, Joel helped you remove your pants and panties; then cupped your molten core, his palm completely flushed against your needy pussy lips. You whimpered something unintelligible as his index finger dunked in your slick slit.

Joel loved how your velvety fold seeped for him. He lightly stroked that tight bud of nerves, while his middle finger quickly joined the other in the warm wetness of your pussy. It slid off your tackiness until it found your begging entrance. Joel circled it a few times, his thumb now attending your pulsing clit, until he dived it in.

You moaned audibly and your hand stilled around his throbbing dick. Joel felt relief when you finally resumed the pumping of his cock, most probably spurred on by his relentless fingering. The wet, sucking sounds your pussy was making around his finger was driving him mad with lust, especially when you tightened your walls around it.

His wandering middle finger sunk in your weeping hole too. Joel curled them both towards the front, caressing the soft, spongy spot that made you go wild with desire, while his thumb worked your clit diligently.

He knew you were lost to him the moment you let go of his hard, pulsating cock and placed your hands on each of his shoulders, finding your balance. You jerked your hips up and down on his lap as if you were riding his cock, your swollen cunt squeezing his fingers ever so sweetly.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come on my fingers, I know you want it.” He goaded you while his free hand stroked his steely dick.

Joel felt the pulsation of your walls, what a tight grip they had on his fingers, announcing your orgasm. And before you tipped over the edge of your arousal, Joel took them out with a loud, squelching pop.

“J-Joel, p-please...” A pitiful whine escaped your mouth when you thought he was about to deny you an orgasm, but he wasn’t so cruel.

Joel forced your hips down on his beating cock, your creamy cunt sheathing him perfectly ― your quivering hole so well trained to stretch around him just enough. He held you down, impaled by his shaft, and then intensely circled your thudding clit again until you came hard on him. The intensity of your climax transformed your beautiful features ― the prettiest portrait he had ever set his eyes on.

This was his personal paradise, with you sat down on his lap and his engorged cock completely buried between your damp flaps. He didn’t know if it was voluntarily or not, but your walls kept on trembling around his dick, your face tilted upwards towards the ceiling. He could picture you with your mouth agape and eyes closed as you felt the last waves of your pleasure.

Joel released your waist and stroked your buttocks, burying his face between your regrettably covered breasts.

“Ride my cock, darlin’. Ride me hard and fast. Wanna feel this pussy of mine doing her job, working my dick as she should. What she was made for.” Joel could not ―would not― stop talking, knowing how much it turned both of you on.

Joel leaned back a bit while you looked for his mouth to muffle both of your moans. With the help of your knees comfortably placed on either side of him, you started swaying your hips back and forth, sitting on his pulsating, hot dick and almost releasing it entirely.

The pace you picked up was maddening, devilish even. You would harshly come down on him and then took your sweet time to free his manhood. Your motions grew savage and erratic, and Joel aided you by cupping both of your ass cheeks, guiding your rhythm and fucking up into you, meeting every thrust with one of his own.

The kiss got so sloppy you both needed a breather ― and you took the opportunity to sink your face in the crook of his neck while mewling like a kitten in heat, your saliva pooling on his skin while your hips smoothly rocked on top of him.

“I-I’m coming again, I can’t―” Your faltering voice tickled the wet skin of his neck.

“Let go, darlin’. Come for me, squeeze me hard, harder―” Joel didn’t need to incite you anymore, because as soon as he touched your writhing clit again, you melted all over him.

“Oh, fuck, Joel, yes― Mhmmm… A-ah…” You shrieked uncontrollably, choking his throbbing shaft with your squiring cunt, his mushroom head dragging on your g-spot just right.

Your cream coating his lap so thickly sent him down a spiral of lust he had learnt to crave. Joel felt the deep pulse, his veiny cock twitching with anticipation. Making use of the last remnants of his logic, Joel cupped your ass and push it up, so his dick slipped out of you just in time, the knob shyly and briefly caressing that tight ring.

With his needy erection lodged between your ass cheeks, he came hard with a guttural growl ― white, thick spurts of cum shooting up and landing on the curve of your buttocks. His head tilted back, rejoicing in the pleasure that was washing over him, exposing his neck to your sinful mouth. You scratched the stubble on his jaw with bare teeth, and then bit down on his skin, marking him yours.

His softening cock spasmed one las time in the fold of your skin, as Joel slowly came back to his senses, foraging for your lips. This time the kiss was not messy but needy as both of you came down from the high of your shared ecstasy.

“Joel,” you whispered into his mouth, “I love you. You know that, right?”

His chest swelled with your love confession ― he would never grow tired of you saying it out loud. But this time there was a different note to your admission, one he did not know how to interpret. There was as much love as there was doubt. Maybe you just needed some reassurance, albeit he did not see why.

He nuzzled your cheek before chastely pecking your reddened lips.

“Yeah, I know.” His mouth ghosted over your closed eyelids, caressing the delicate skin. “I love you too, no matter what.”

“No matter what?” You asked under your shaky breath.

“Yes, no matter what.” There was no hesitation whatsoever. He truly meant it.

You had never bit your nails before, but that was everything you could do while you waited for the pregnancy test to develop.

How could you be in this situation? You both were always careful, with Joel finishing outside every time. Except for that one night, you thought. The night you both believed to be your last. “Please, Joel, I want to feel you, I need to feel you,” you had whispered to him at the top of your climax, blind to the fact that those words would seal your fate.

Nothing you could do take it back. If you wanted to take it back, that was.

And then there was last night. You felt extremely guilty for using sex as a distraction, but you panicked. That “I need to stop overthinking stuff” had escaped your mouth before you could stop it and Joel, as perceptive as he was, had picked up on it. Sometimes you wished he couldn’t read you like an open book.

The wait was killing you, your racing thoughts going over every single scenario your brain could come up with. All the good and the bad flashing before your eyes ― and you were so intent on focusing on the bad.

This world was not made to be lived in. Surviving was not guaranteed, death closing in at every turn of the path. And if it was hard enough for yourself, how would it be for a tiny, helpless baby? What kind of life would you be giving them? There were too many things that could happen, too many threats out there ― not only the dead, but also the ones who lived. If the apocalypse had taught you anything, it was that the living could not be trusted.

What if you died? Or even worse, what if your baby died? What if you couldn’t protect them? What if someone hurt them? What would you do then?

But before all of that, you would have to go through a pregnancy in a world where coming by some measly tampons was already a fucking miracle. All the complications you could face paled in comparison to how that baby could suffer during childbirth if something went wrong.

And then there was Joel. How would he react? You had never spoken about this, so you truly had no idea what his thoughts were on the matter. He was a dad, always would be ― and you knew how much it hurt him to be a childless father. How much he missed Sarah. How much he regretted everything he didn’t do that fateful September night. Perhaps Joel would see this baby as a blessing ― or a death sentence. It was impossible to tell.

Would he stay with you, or would he abandon you? Would he want to keep the baby?

Did you want to keep the baby?

A dense knot formed in your throat as tears gathered at the edges of your eyes, your foot nervously tapping the linoleum on the floor. A metallic tang suddenly flooded your sense of taste, and you removed your thumb from your lips ― you had nipped at your cuticle so bad, it had started bleeding.

You sucked on the wound in the hopes it would stop bleeding while your eyes were transfixed on the test, your heart pounding so hard it was climbing up your throat.

Then a change on the screen made your heart jolt painfully.

You lunged forward, hand extended. Your fingers were shaking so much, the test dropped from your grip and hit the sink, falling facedown. With trembling hands, you reached for it again and turned it around.

The world stilled.

Pregnant.

And then the world spun around you.

Your vision went white for a second, your other hand grasping the edge of the counter tight to prevent you from falling. Your knees were quivering so much you ended up sitting down on the lidded toilet, trying to control your quick breathing.

Tears inevitably welled up as your new reality slowly dawned on you. A part of you wanted this child so much, so badly, it was overwhelming. Before Cordyceps, you had always wanted to be a mother but thought it would never happen when your last relationship broke off. Then the apocalypse happened, and such desire got drown by your new priorities, so never really gave it another thought.

And now your long-forgotten yearning was staring right back at you. A crack of happiness forced its way through your heart and for a brief second, you smiled through the tears. Maybe this was not what you had planned, maybe it was selfish of you ― you had not even met this baby yet, and you knew you would give your life for them.

A knock on the bathroom door derailed your train of thought.

“Baby, are you okay?” Joel’s voice came through the plank of wood separating you.

And a part of you was scared to bits. Sheer panic was what made you spring up to your feet, your hand still holding the pregnancy test.

“Y-yeah!” You quickly answered, wiping away your tears as you shoved the test down in one of the pockets of your backpack.

Tell him. I should tell him. He has the right to know. This baby is as much his as they are mine.

You tried to convince yourself and were determined to share the news, but the moment you opened the door and were faced with Joel, fear took over your being and the words got stuck at the back of your throat.

You smiled at him as if nothing happened, as if your world had not been turned upside down a minute ago.

“Yeah, all good,” you said, your smile a little bit wider as you kept the tears at bay.

Joel’s eyes squinted ever so slightly, but if he suspected something, he didn’t say.

“Are you ready to go? Everything’s in the car,” he asked, his fingers seeking yours to pull you into the corridor.

“Perfect, let’s go.”

No matter what. He said no matter what. This is “no matter what.” Just say it. It’ll be fine. It’s okay. Say it.

“Joel?” You whispered his name, a fleeting moment of bravery.

His head turned around to look at you over his shoulder as he walked a step ahead of you.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

Now. Speak up. Say the words. He won’t leave you. He’s a dad. Always have been. He’ll understand. It’s okay. Say it. Come on, open your mouth and just say it!

“I think I’ve forgotten my toothbrush, sorry,” the words left your mouth before your brain could register them.

You had panicked again and wanted to hit yourself for it. Why the sudden lack of trust? He loved you and you loved him. That was all that mattered, right?

You turned on your heels before he could see your glassy eyes and scurried away to retrieve a toothbrush that was already packed away in your backpack.

The detour to get to Oswego was eating up most of the fuel. For three days Joel had driven around, stalking out different roads to access the town. Perhaps he was paranoid but preferred to err on the side of caution. Chicago was still fresh on his mind, so the idea of getting close to civilisation again was not dear to him.

As much as he tried to focus, he was also distracted. You had been acting as always, but there was this nagging thought in the confines of his mind that told him there was something wrong. Joel did not know what it was but sensed something different in your attitude.

You were not distant with him, but you were cautious, almost reticent. Maybe coming closer to a town bothered you too, although he did not understand why. It was you who had suggested looking for Tommy, as much as he first loathed the idea.

He had been thinking about the reunion with Tommy since you both set your path towards Oswego. Joel did not know what to expect because Tommy could be as volatile as he was. He knew Tommy meant well, but in the end, he had left him behind when Joel needed his support the most. That memory, that betrayal, still stung ― badly. But according to you, forgiving and moving on would do wonders for him.

His thoughts drifted back to you as he watched you rummage through your backpack, looking for a lighter ― you were far enough from humanity and clickers that a little fire to boil some water with tea leaves before going to bed would not be an issue with the dense foliage sheltering you both. This was a quick pit stop before finding a house to spend the night.

Joel could not put his finger on what was bothering you, that harrowing feeling never truly left him since the night you spent on Pembroke. In retrospect, he even wondered if you had worked him up that night because he had asked you what was in your mind and did not want to answer him.

Whatever it was, you seemed intent on not sharing your worries with him. He was slightly hurt and felt like you had built an impenetrable wall around you. You would meet him at the door every now and then but wouldn’t really invite him in into the fortress of your mind.

But yet again, he did exactly the same. Perhaps if he opened up about his concerns, you would too.

As he was about to say something, you dropped your backpack on the fallen tree trunk and stood up.

“Silly me, I think I left it in the car,” you groaned, exasperated, as you made your way back to the Jeep.

Joel watched the backpack rock back and forth on the trunk before it fell forwards. He was able to catch it before it hit the frozen ground, but the contents of the front pocket spilled on the floor. He mindlessly picked each piece up and put it back in the pocket ― but the last thing caught his attention.

A white stick with a blue cap that was vaguely familiar. For a second, he thought it was a weird-looking pen until he flipped it around and was greeted with a digital screen that read, “Pregnant.”

It was just one simple word, but he could not make sense of it. That was until the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together, painting a clearer picture in front of him. His heart suddenly dropped to his stomach at the realisation of what was on the palm of his hand.

His jaw went slack as the news started to sink in. Pregnant? A baby? In this world? With all those threats out there? This was no life to bring up a baby. Always on the run, never settling anywhere ― it would be cruel to doom them to such an existence. He would not be able to protect them, he would fail all over again. That would kill him ― Joel was convinced he could not take another loss like that, cradling another dead child of his.

His memory shot back to Sarah, to the night that changed everything for the worse. He could still feel the warmth leaving her body, her teary eyes looking up at the night sky. The pain that shredded his whole being, leaving him an empty carcass to wander this Earth. His whole world had shattered to pieces ― pieces he was barely able to put together now.

What in another lifetime would have been a blessing, in this one it was most definitely a curse. A death sentence for the child, regardless of how hard both of you tried. Joel knew ― he knew very well. There were forces he could not control, and death was one of them. The moment his tainted soul touched an innocent one, he would corrupt them. The same way he corrupted yours.

The reality was, he was scared to death. There were not many things in this universe that would faze him anymore ― but this was one of them.

Was this what was worrying you? It had to be. Why had you not said one word to him about it? For three fucking days? Yes, he was scared, but he was madder.

“Joel, do you have the lighter? I can’t find―” You began to ask before turning around and closing the passenger’s door behind you.

Your eyes widened as if you had seen a ghost and froze in place. You seemed shocked enough, but what was your plan? Not tell him until you were literally showing? Not tell him at all?

“Why―”

“Care to explain this?” He barked between gritted teeth, his temper flaring, as he stood up.

He threw you the test and you just about managed to catch it. He watched your gaze drift down to the device, almost as if it was the first time you saw it.

For a minute you didn’t say anything ― nothing at all. His anger, but also his disappointment, grew. What did this say about you? About him? About your relationship?

“You’ve gone through my things?” You hushed, such a low murmur he hardly heard you.

Joel scoffed, not believing his hearing. Maybe he was deafer than he thought? Was that all that worried you? All that you had to say right now?

Your accusatory tone stung badly; a sharp dart directed to his pounding heart. You had really good aim.

“‘Course not! Your backpack fell―” Why was he explaining himself when it was obvious you had not showed him the same deference about way more important matters? “Doesn’t matter. When did you plan to tell me? Or were you gonna keep me in the dark?”

You just stared at him with doe eyes, your fingers wrapped around the test as if it was your lifeline. Why weren’t you talking? Why did you look at him as if he had booted you?

The knot in his throat got bigger, almost collapsing his airway. Fight me back.

“You said it was nothing important, dammit,” his voice broke on the last word.

Finally, you blinked and shyly took a few steps towards him. Joel’s eyes followed your every movement but didn’t meet you halfway as he should have, so you stopped in your tracks. The utter fear had him paralysed ― fear of losing you, of taking care of a baby on this decrepit world, of making another unfathomable mistake.

“And you said no matter what,” you whispered back, your heart seeking his but not finding it ― it was well tucked away, out of reach for the time being.

That was a low blow, one that would have made him fold if it wasn’t for his stubbornness.

“Are you keeping it?” He found himself asking, jaw clenched.

“It?” Again, another stab right to the centre of his chest. He didn’t mean it that way, but your rhetoric question made it sound awful now. “I wanted to speak to you first…”

“Ah, were you? So, I have a say in this?” He was genuinely surprised, his brows furrowing.

“Of course you do, Joel.” You muttered, dipping your hands in the pockets of your padded coat, a defeated look on your face. “This baby… is mine and yours. Ours. If you truly don’t want them, then…” You shrugged, a loud, heavy sigh leaving your mouth in the shape of a misty cloud. “Can’t force you, won’t force you.”

“Doesn’t look like we have much of a choice,” he snapped back, rubbing his face with one hand.

There were no hospitals, no doctors, no nothing. The reality was you both were stuck with the consequences of your actions.

“You do. I don’t,” Your voice cracked, your eyes watery and your head sinking between your shoulders as you took a step away from him. “It’s not my fault, you know?”

He suddenly felt like a fucking jerk. It was obvious his reaction was not what you were expecting of him. Damn, it wasn’t what he expected of himself. He had let his fear speak for him, instead of reassuring you everything was going to be okay.

Joel should have told you he would be by your side at every turn of this life and the next. Instead, it looked like he was blaming you for what had happened. But that was not his intention, not at all.

He then realised he was making it all be about himself, instead of about you and the baby. What an egocentric ass he was. He had been so worried about himself, about his fears, Joel hadn’t thought of how you were feeling. You, who was the most affected by it all ― not him.

Before he could change his narrative, before he could apologise and ask to start this conversation all over again, you turned on your heels and walked towards the car.

The slam of the passenger’s door had a definite fatality to it ― the kind that would make his stomach churn.

What the fuck had he just done?

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

@harriedandharassed @thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus

[hellishjoel]

seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” 

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert  on his toes. 

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else. 

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city.  Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another. 

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive. 

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies. 

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable. 

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse. 

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates. 

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from  death, they sent you. 

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die. 

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.” 

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter. 

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down. 

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies. 

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse. 

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today. 

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed,  despite running the same territory. 

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since. 

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine. 

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes. 

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past. 

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists. 

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like. 

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled. 

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home. 

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans.  You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert. 

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you. 

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you. 

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed. 

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you? 

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water. 

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing. 

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it. 

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him. 

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.  

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes.  You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down. 

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers. 

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice. 

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief. 

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem. 

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed. 

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close. 

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers. 

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.” 

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face. 

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?” 

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it. 

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. 

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears. 

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his. 

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield. 

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner. 

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you.  So you let him. 

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked. 

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt. 

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face. 

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful. 

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk. 

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer. 

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst. 

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.” 

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him. 

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring. 

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?” 

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers. 

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion. 

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more. 

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home. 

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion. 

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach.  Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next. 

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses. 

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury. 

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again. 

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head. 

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think. 

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms. 

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice. 

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!” 

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation. 

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do. 

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side. 

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace. 

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week. 

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle. 

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.” 

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.” 

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs. 

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.  

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too. 

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again. 

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair. 

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again,  lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him.  “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?” 

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face. 

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long. 

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.” 

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”  

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it. 

---

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[onigiriforears]

やばい Alternatives | Vocab

Step 1 of 「伝える力」 が伸びる! 12歳までに知っておきたい語彙力図鑑 focuses on teaching you synonyms for words you would typically use to describe your emotions. There are synonyms for words like やばい, エモい, and the like. This particular post will focus on the information that they've given about やばい。

The book also ranks the words' difficulty level, with 1 star being an "of course you know this" to 5 stars being "even adults probably don't know this and you're about to blow them away with your vocabulary and make them pull out their dictionary." Because of this, you may see words that you encountered quickly as a Japanese learner (that a native speaker 12 year old may not have encountered yet) and vice versa on the list below.

やばい

Because やばい is a word that can be used to express nearly any emotion (much like how OMG can be used in many contexts in American English), the book did also make sure to put the contexts in which the alternative word would be appropriate.

危うい (あやうい)- dangerous; in danger; facing imminent danger ❖This is to be used when dangerous situations are imminent. The way they described it was "危険が迫っている状態" ▶︎Their example: 危うい所でピンチを脱出した。

危険 (きけん)- dangerous; risky; uncertain; precarious; in danger ❖This is to be used when a situation may lead to not-so-good/dangerous outcomes. ▶︎Their example: そんなに高い所からジャンプしたら、危険だよ。

驚異的 (きょういてき)- wonderful; astounding; marvelous ❖This is to be used when something passes a level of surprise that you can express. ▶︎Their example: 大谷選手の達成した記録は驚異的だ。

最高 (さいこう)- best; supreme; wonderful; highest; maximum; supreme ❖This is to be used when describing something of the highest status/dignity/ranking. (This is relative in comparison to other things.) ▶︎Their example: 夏休みに友達と見に行った映画が、最高に面白かった。

素晴らしい (すばらしい)- wonderful; splendid; magnificent ❖ This is used to describe something that's elegant/praiseworthy/splendid, things that are desirable, and things that admirable. ▶︎Their example: 富士山の山頂から眺める景色は、息をのむほどに素晴らしい。

Yojijukugo (四字熟語)

This section also includes four-character compound idioms (yojijukugo) that can be associated with the word we're focusing on expanding our vocabulary from.

絶体絶命 (ぜったいぜつめい)- desperate situation with no escape; being driven into a corner; being cornered; last extremity ❖ You would use this when you find yourself in a situation that there's no conceivable way you could think of making it out in the way that you truly desire. ▶︎Apparently you can use it in phrases like this 「絶体絶命のピンチ」 BONUS: I found an example online that also uses it to mean "stalemate" and the example is a cop and a suspect both pointing a gun at each other.

最上無二 (さいじょうむに)- there is nothing else like it in this world; it's an unparalleled marvel ❖They listed this one at 5 stars (aka, the adults are gonna be surprised that you know this and also go look it up) and I can certainly see why--I couldn't find any official English translations of it. Here's the definition the book gave: この世に二つとなく、最もすばらしいこと。「最上」は最もすぐれていること、「無二」は同じ物がないことを意味するよ。

SOMEONE PLEASE CORRECT ME IF MY UNDERSTANDING OF THIS LAST YOJIJUKUGO IS INCORRECT SO THAT I CAN LEARN IT PROPERLY!! I BESEECH THEE!! I IMPLORE YOU!!

Anyways, the next post will be alternatives words for かわいい and エグい

[wyuovvia]

— SUCH A SWEET BOY <3

Choso Kamo x Trans Male Y/N || Content Warnings: minor writing smut, nsfw, reposted off my old account (@ballsinyojaws2000), bondage, overstimulation, gags, grinding, hickeys, nipple play, riding, creampie, edging, domtop y/n & subbot choso, rest of writing under cut || Word Count: 1,277 || Followers When Posted: 36 ||Author's Note: very sleepy when posted

ALBUM ENTRY!: Sweet boy Choso wants to cum so bad! But in the end, only good boys get to cum, right?~ He's been edged for so long, he deserves a reward! And you're gonna give it to him.

Choso has been tied up for what feels like forever now. He was completely naked as his wrists were tied together and attached to the headboard, his ankles were also tied together, and on top of that there was a fucking ball gag in his mouth. It was all so humiliating. Because of the gag, there’s drool dripping down his chin from the corners of his mouth. [Y/N] has been teasing him for so long, not even letting him get close to cumming. 

[Y/N] was sitting next to him while sucking on Choso’s neck and chest while occasionally biting every now and then. Finally, after so long of the fucking teasing torture, [Y/N] straddles his waist and starts grinding his wet cunt on top of Choso's cock. Choso groans loudly, his hips bucking upward instinctively as [Y/N]'s wet pussy rubs against his sensitive tip. The warmth of [Y/N]'s body engulfs him, and the smell of their arousal fills the air around them.

He gasps for breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His cock twitches violently inside him, leaking copious amounts of precum onto [Y/N]'s cunt lips. Despite knowing better, he can't help but beg for more. [Y/N]'s warm cunt clenches a little bit as [Y/N] slowly lowers himself on Choso's cock. When [Y/N] is fully lowered on his dick and their hips are pressed together, [Y/N] doesn't move or start riding him. 

His hands make their way up to Choso's nipples and start teasing and flicking his one nipple as [Y/N] sucks on the other. [Y/N] was fucking cockwarming him while touching his nipples. Choso just wanted him to stop teasing and just fucking ride him, jerk him off, finger him, anything. Choso's eyes were wide with both pleasure and discomfort, with his body trembling in anticipation. His cock throbs wildly inside [Y/N]'s tight pussy, begging for more. Each breath felt like a tiny slice of heaven as [Y/N]'s hot mouth sucks on one nipple while teasing the other. He bites down hard on his gag, fighting the urge to beg for more. 

The combination of pain and pleasure is driving him insane, making it nearly impossible to think straight. His cum threatens to erupt at any moment, but he knows better than to waste such a precious gift on anything less than perfect. 

[Y/N] pulls off of his chest and then kisses his neck once before taking off the gag. There's drool dripping down Choso's chin. "What do you want?" Choso's voice came out hoarse and strained, "Please, [Y/N]... I-I want you to ride me... Make me cum inside you." His words were barely audible above the sounds of their heavy breathing and the faint wet slapping of their bodies moving together. 

[Y/N] then picks himself up and starts riding Choso fast and hard as his wet cunt clenches around Choso's dick. Choso's eyes widen in pure ecstasy as [Y/N] finally starts moving, his cock being stimulated relentlessly by the tight grip of [Y/N]'s pussy. He arches his back upwards, thrusting his hips forward in sync with each powerful stroke. His balls tighten up, preparing for imminent release. His moans echo through the room, filling every corner with their shared erotic energy. Sweat drips down Choso’s body, painting a messy canvas across his chest and stomach. Despite knowing better, he can't hold back much longer. Just when he’s about to cum, [Y/N] stops all of his movement on Choso’s cock. 

Choso starts tearing up. He was so fucking close, why didn’t [Y/N] let him cum? [Y/N] shushes him and wipes his tears gently. "Just one time... it'll feel better once you finally cum." Choso whimpered softly, his body trembled with the need to release. He'd never felt this close before, and it was driving him crazy. 

His chest heaved heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He looked pleadingly at [Y/N], pleading for just a moment of release. The anticipation was killing him, but he knew better than to beg too much. 

[Y/N] waits for Choso to get far away from release again before [Y/N] finally starts riding him again. [Y/N] was practically slamming his hips and body down on Choso's cock this time. Choso's body tensed up, his cock throbbing violently inside [Y/N]'s tight pussy. He knew this was it; he was close again. 

His hands clutched tightly at the sheets beneath him, nails digging into the fabric as he braced himself for what was coming. A scream burst forth from his throat as his entire being convulsed in pure ecstasy. Wave after wave of unstoppable orgasmic pleasure washed over him as hot thick streams of cum shot out of his cock, coating [Y/N]'s insides with his seed. Even though Choso came, [Y/N] didn't stop riding him. [Y/N] was overstimulating his cock until he was able to cum also. 

Choso's body shook with the intensity of his orgasm, his vision blurring briefly as he struggled to regain control. His cock twitched and throbbed inside [Y/N]'s wet pussy, leaking copious amounts of cum onto their entwined bodies. As for [Y/N], he rode Choso relentlessly, their powerful hips slamming together in sync as they both reached their climaxes. Their shared moans filled the room, mixing together in a symphony of raw desire and unbridled passion. 

"We're not done yet. You thought just because you came means that I'm gonna stop? Wrong. We aren't stopping until I say we are." [Y/N] continues his movements up and down repeatedly. [Y/N] leans forward and presses a kiss on Choso's lips before starting to make out with him as [Y/N]'s cunt starts to squeeze Choso's dick slightly. [Y/N] was getting close. 

Choso's body shook with exhaustion and pleasure, his mind reeling from the intense sensations coursing through him. Despite feeling drained, he knew there was no way he could resist [Y/N]'s relentless assault on his senses. He moaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with [Y/N]'s as they shared their mutual desire. 

His cock twitched inside [Y/N]'s tight cunt, throbbing in sync with each powerful thrust. He could feel another orgasm building up inside him again, but he knew it wouldn't be long before [Y/N] would finally let him find release. As [Y/N] continued to ride him, [Y/N]'s moans got louder. Choso cums again, and right after that, [Y/N]'s cunt squeezes him and practically starts milking his dick as [Y/N] finally cums. The feeling of [Y/N]'s pussy squeezing him almost sent him to yet another orgasm even though he just came. Choso's body convulsed violently once more, his entire being trembling with the sheer force of his orgasm. Another hot torrent of cum shot out of his cock, coating [Y/N]'s insides even more than before. 

His vision spun wildly, and he lost consciousness briefly. When he came to, [Y/N] was lying beside him panting heavily, their bodies covered in sweat and their faces flushed with exhaustion. A small smile played on [Y/N]'s lips as they looked down at him, satisfaction evident in their eyes. "T-That was... amazing." Choso managed to croak out between ragged breaths. "Thank you, Master..." 

"H-Hahh... You did such a good job..." [Y/N] kisses him on the lips again before [Y/N] lifts his hips and Choso's cock gets pulled out of [Y/N]'s cunt. Choso's cock twitched and throbbed in the air, dripping with their combined fluids. His body felt heavy and exhausted, his muscles aching from the intense ride they had just shared. He closed his eyes, relishing in the aftermath of their intense encounter. A small smile crept onto his lips as he thought about how lucky he was to be with someone like [Y/N] who could push him to such new heights of pleasure.

[bobbile-blog]

Okay so I've finally gotten to Jessicalter's Oprec and now feel qualified to talk about Come Catastrophes or Wakes of Vultures. holy shit. This went straight into my list of top Arknights events. Fantastic event, spoilers will be under the cut so I HIGHLY RECOMMEND reading the event first. It's really good and worth your while.

Anyway, what follows is a scattered mess of thoughts about this event and things that stuck out to me.

First off, plot stuff! I'll probably cover this when I do my next plotline recap post, but what I took away from the end is that Clip Cliff seems to want to make Blacksteel independent, or at least more self-determining than it is now. He seems to be gathering resources and assets like mobile city plates and investing in long-term infrastructure like merc training, so he definitely has a long game he's pushing for. I don't think we know enough go speculate about his goals, but we'll definitely be coming back here again. After all, Tila has an infection monitor in her art, which probably means she's going to be playable at some point in the future.

Next, having looked into this a little on my own, I was interested in some of the previous places Raythean has shown up. Specifically, the ones that stood out were the drones in the Kazimierz Major and arming Silverash's forces in Kjerag, which might be referring to the Tschäggättä. It's not just notable for their apparent level of technology, but also as a faint connecting thread between three separate capitalism plotlines. I don't know if that's going to be meaningful in the future, but I found it interesting enough that I thought I'd bring it up.

Now on to more narrative things. While I love Liskarm and Franka, I do think it was the right choice to give them less screen time in this event. They're both (for the most part) fully-realized characters who understand their own motivations and morals. This is above all else an event about Jessica learning to stand on her own as an adult, so it makes sense that they're more here to support her than they are to play their own roles in the story.

Speaking of said roles, I liked the event's commentary on cops. It pointed out an interesting distinction that I wouldn't really have ever thought of, that between mercenaries and cops. To start: cops exist to protect property, not people. The police exist to protect things and do not have an obligation to err on the side of people over things, and in fact are supposed to do the opposite. This event understands that, and that role os the core of how the bank treats the Blacksteel mercs. CV, however, raises an interesting point that mercenaries are bound by the letter of a contract and not the larger obligation to property cops are, so they can actually raise moral objections and point to their contracts, sort of a Lawful Evil/Lawful Neutral to cops' Neutral Evil. The independence of their position with respect to cops allows for more of an independent morality than you'd get in a cop story and I like that, I think it's a really smart direction to take your writing in.

On a (mostly) separate note, holy shit Arknights is really good at writing cowboy stories. Between this and chapter 9 (and I would argue An Obscure Wanderer), Arknights has repeatedly made it clear that they Do Not Fuck Around with their cowboy stories and I'm surprised I haven't heard more people talking about it. It kinda has everything:

- It takes place in a rural, working-class setting undergoing a larger imminent societal shift that can inform the larger narrative, and deals with a semi-mythologized past that is rapidly disappearing.

- It has a protagonist and an antagonist that serve as foils, both very heavily affected and defined by the (same) violence in their past that they've both had different reactions to. Our protagonist has come to terms with the violence as a tool to maintain order, while our antagonist has used it for personal gain and in some ways lost control of it.

- It's a story about community, and heavily emphasizes local and personal community over larger artificial corporate "community". That's my reading of the recurring motif of the cold btw, warmth represents the close, personal community Davistown used to have and the cold that now pervades it comes from how the bank has systematically dismantled that community.

- And, I'd argue most importantly, it understands the narrative power of a bullet. The Showdown at the end of a cowboy story is powerful because we've spent the entire runtime of our story with these characters, and they are now facing each other down with the intent to end one of their collective two stories. The entire weight of the narrative so far comes to rest on a single moment of tension. It's really hard to gather up the kind of narrative momentum you need to make that hit like it does in CV. For example, it requires a really light hand with actual action in the story, so that it really does feel like it's an even standoff between our protagonist and antagonist. On the other hand, though, you do actually have to establish the relative skill of both parties and actually sell the danger of the moment to the audience. It's really hard to toe the line between tension and actual action in a way that makes for a satisfying resolution, and CV does it extremely well.

Honestly, Arknights just seems really good at getting the vibes of American media right. This is something I noticed in DV and Lonetrail too, and I haven't really been able to put my finger on what it is about them, but the vibes are just really on-point. I want to write more about this at a later point once I actually figure out what it is that I'm feeling, but maybe it's the setting, maybe it's the cast, maybe it's the plot points, maybe it's something in between — it just seems to understand the spirit of period cowboy stories in a way that I can't describe. Good shit.

Finally, I wanna end this with where Jessica is now. The events of CV take place In between the events of Loneterail and Ideal City, so the current "now" of the story is a few months ahead. Jessica left for the frontier along with Woody, Helena, and Miles. They live together in a small new settlement, building the place from the ground up with Woody and Jessica acting as town sherrifs. At the point we're at now, rhe town is fairly well-established and Woody has temporarily left on other business, leaving Jessica the sole sherrif of their new settlement. However, she's risen to her new station, and is growing into a stronger person than she ever was before.

[gyuswhore]

Pure Math 171

choi seungcheol x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: math. (1) dirty joke. thats it i think (lmk if there's more)

synopsis: Walking into the first class of the semester shouldn't have been as eventful as it was (not that you can complain for long)

masterlist

(A/N): I haven't posted a fic in a while so i hope i redeem myself with this one hehe. a million thank yous to @toruro for beta-ing for me (even at the dentists lol) you can thank her for this too shes the reason i finished so quickly kjvkdfjg

It takes a lot to surprise you. 

It’s not that you enjoy it, but your friends simply make it easy to read them. It took Soonyoung seven human years to learn the art of surprise birthday parties. You know, the ones where you aren’t supposed to know he’s throwing a party just for you. Or Minghao, before he learned the art of deceit, and held his disdain like a badge on his face. 

You seem to have honed the skill of psychics better than most, confident in your ability as a higher-risk party trick. 

Skipping into the new semester at uni, you enter your lecture hall at the reasonable hour of 8 in the morning, expecting nothing but the usual. No surprises were to come your way today, just another first day back, fueling for the coming months.

You push the doors of your lecture hall open, ready to greet your professor for Pure Mathematics 171, pushing your spirits high to commence your per semester buttering. What you find though, is the front desk crowded with students wanting to do the exact same, all for the professor that would be teaching the most dreaded unit of the course. Of course. 

You spot Soonyoung among the crowd as he spots you at the door as well. You note how gleeful he looks at this hour. This can’t be good. Hao too presses his mouth together in an attempt to conceal his budding smile, hand to mouth when he miserably fails.

What on Earth was so funny? 

Attempting to crane your neck, over and under, to catch a glimpse of the ever popular professor, you find yourself blocked by the sea of math nerds and ass-kissers just like yourself. Curiosity was becoming a little too much for you to bear, not that your friends sniggering and whispering while looking directly at you was helping at all. You were just about to march up to the two and demand to be put on their shoulders to see what the fuss was about. Until—

“Alright! It’s almost 8, let’s save the chatter for after class, how about?” you hear a voice boom in the centre of the anthill. 

You knew that voice.

You watch in slow motion as the hoard of bodies disperse, not missing the pointed glances of both your friends directed at the teacher’s table. 

And then you see it. Standing there, looking down at his folder sheets, dry-erase marker in hand. 

Choi Seungcheol.

Choi Seungcheol was your professor.

Your boyfriend was your professor.

How did this happen? Did he know about this? Was he keeping it from you? Were you blind when you read the clear ‘Dr. Kim’ next to your unit code? 

Seungcheol doesn’t notice you standing there slack mouthed and frozen in his classroom. Until he does. 

Instead of mimicking your shocked expression, you watch as his mouth goes to pull what you recognise as a smirk. 

Oh, he thinks this is hilarious. 

His eyebrows are raised as he questions you, “Will you be taking a seat, miss?” 

It’s then that you realise you're in the middle of a lecture hall with about a hundred eyes watching you as you gape at your collective professor. Could they be mistaking your imminent horror as you checking him out? 

If this was another situation maybe you would have, but this was starting to sound like a sick joke. 

But alas, you could not confront your professor like that, at least not in front of an audience. So you find it within yourself to slowly slug towards the staircase to plant yourself next to your friends. Both of whom were having the absolute time of their lives watching your dazed expression. 

You might have committed murder that day. 

You’re forced to snap out of it as you hear Seungcheol - professor Choi - begin to speak at the front of the class.

“Good morning everybody,” he starts, hands on his desk, a pleasant expression on his face as he awaits a response from his borderline comatose students. A chorus of good mornings greet him back, excluding your own.

“Hope you guys had a good break, welcome to Pure Math 171, my name is Professor Choi” he moves to scribble his name on the whiteboard, “And I would like to be referred as such.” 

His gaze finds you in your seat as he utters those words. He is quick to shift.

“We’re gonna be starting light today, I’ll be going through our unit guide and grading system…” 

Seungcheol talks. And talks. And talks. And you don’t listen. You watch instead.

You’re mad at him. Really mad at him. But you can’t help but wonder as he walks around looking like that. He’s in the simplest dress shirt and slacks of a neutral colour, but he wears it oh so well. 

You’ve watched him every morning as he gets dressed for work, knowing his attire has always suited him. Your friends who have been in his classes have expressed their disappointment when told he wasn’t single, and promptly draw open in shock when they realize it's you that’s snagged him before the world could. 

Seungcheol, for lack of a better word, hits different when he’s in his element. His hair is pushed back and out of his face, noting how his glasses look so much sexier when he’s pacing the room with hands dipped in his pockets. He’s speaking tongues of numbers and symbols, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

But you're mad at him. It shouldn’t be that hard to remind yourself. 

“You know, you’re being real ungrateful for a person who just got a free pass on the hardest class this fucking insitution can cook up,” Soonyoung whisper-shouts next to you.

Minghao quips beside him, “Look alive, sister, you’ve hit the jackpot.”

“Were you two in on it?” you finally snap, irritated at their apparent glee. 

Soonyoung snorts, “Fuck, no, we saw him when we walked in this morning”

“So did he know?” 

“Oh, I think Professor Choi would be glad to tell you himself after hours,” Minghao sleazes while Soonyoung throws you the greasiest wink known to man. 

Disgusted and disturbed, you turn your attention back to the front of the room. You’re still disgusted and disturbed. Seungcheol is still there, looking like he does, scribbling some example equation on the board. 

“Hmm. I think professor Choi ought to know his favourite student’s having trouble paying attention? We can’t have that, you should move up front.”

You do move. Away from your friends to the seats higher up. 

It’s a mind-numbing two hours in which you think you experience every emotion possible. 

You think of your friends who have sat in his classes all semester, that have ogled him and admitted his apparent attractiveness. There were people in this room that were thinking the very same thing in this very moment, and it was making your skin crawl. You wanted to get up and scream: This is your boyfriend.

But alas, you are but a tired, tired college student. He wouldn’t fail you, would he? Then again, he has a ruthless streak of keeping you from the lights of life when you’re slacking in dire times. You might be the love of his life, but he remains a man of discipline. 

It’s an annoying trait, but only ever in the moment. He might be the sole reason you haven’t completely lost yourself in the sea of academics. 

“I think we can wrap up with that, it’s basic stuff but it won’t hurt to revise on your own before next week when we really get into it,” Seungcheol’s voice booms.

There’s a churn in your stomach for some reason, and you have to neutralize your breathing as you watch the lecture hall slowly empty out. A few students remain lingering at the front desk for yet another round of buttering. Seungcheol entertains them, pleasant smile on his face, nodding along to something. You remain seated, arms and legs crossed as you stare daggers into the top of Seungcheol’s head as he speaks with his students. 

The remaining students file out as well, and you notice how Soonyoung and Minghao are long gone, leaving just you and Seungcheol alone in this big, big room. 

It’s only then that he looks up searching, to check if you had left yet.

He remembered quick. 

His eyes finally land on your, disgruntled, tight form, refusing to make eye contact for more than three seconds before huffing audibly, moving to put away your things. Seungcheol moves around his front desk, hands in pockets, hiking his way up the lecture steps to where you were at the top row. 

You’re shoving your laptop in your bag by the time he’s done with his trek, planting himself on the chair next to you loudly. You ignore him.

“Do you think we’d get in trouble if they caught us like this?” he muses after a few silent moments.

“Caught us like what?” You snap. There goes your pledge to remain silent.

“You can’t possibly think a teacher and his student caught in a classroom by themselves is necessarily a point in our favor” 

“I’ll do the honors then” with that you’re swinging your bag over your shoulder to trudge behind him to the steps leading down, wanting to be out of his presence for the time being. 

You’re barely past him when there’s a grip on your wrist, firm and purposeful, that tugs you backwards in a harsh manner. The bag on your shoulder is sent to the floor while you, in your entirety, are sent straight into Seungcheol’s lap. 

Bastard. 

The smirk on his face is enough to send you into a pot of livid fumes, right after you’re done balancing yourself on his shoulders. You try not to grip on too tight. 

“What makes you think you can leave without being dismissed?”  

“What the fuck.” 

“Language, miss. I don’t tolerate obscenities in my classroom.” It might’ve been a menacing threat, but with what lay behind the glint in his eyes you knew he was being a little shit. 

It takes you every fibre in your body to refrain from thinking too much about him. Him and his hands that rest on your thighs, him and his hands that are placed near your waist, stroking and pressing into your shirt. 

No, you're mad at him.

“Did you know?” you ask finally, tired of the back and forth.

“Nope,” he replies, “Found out when you walked in.” 

“Do you not read your attendance sheet? Isn’t that your job? You had the entirety of summer to give me a heads up, this is your fault!” 

“Dr. Kim got into an accident last night, she’s out of service for the rest of the semester. I didn’t know until I came in for my other class I was being switched over—” 

“How does that happen?!” you almost yell.

He’s silent for a moment before beginning again, “Do you want me to ask for another class?” 

Wait, what. 

“I didn’t say that—” You can’t finish because your being pushed off your seat on his lap to stand while he gets up as well.

“I’ll go talk to the co-ordinator then, class isn’t working out for me.” With that he’s trudging back down the steps, making a beeline for the door.

You’re left stunned at the top of the stairs, not knowing if he was being serious or not. Were you about to let his presence bother you that bad? To the point he had to switch classes? What were you even that upset about? 

Twirling around in place trying to look for the bag that was strewn about earlier, you grab the straps and race down the steps. If Seungcheol can hear your bounding footsetps, he doesn’t show it. Instead you crash into his back just as he’s about to leave the room, to which he turns around. 

The smirk seems glued to his face and you realize right then you may have been lured. With the 180° that had become of your perception, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore, cooling off the simmer that had been brewing for the past couple hours. 

“Maybe…Maybe I can live with seeing your face for a couple hours a week,” you mumble, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

He lets out an incredulous laugh, “Couple hours a week?! Do you realise we sleep in the same bed at night, pretty sure that’s more than a couple hours.”

“You know what I meant!” you huff, arms crossed and turning your head away. You cringe slightly at how you voice echoes across the large lecture hall. 

Feeling his hands enclose yours, pulling your body slowly towards him, you bring yourself to look back up at him. His hands come up behind you when you’re close enough, snaking up your back and waist. You try not to shudder, but it’s hard when you know he’s doing it on purpose. There’s warmth that radiates off of him, a stark contrast from the chill classroom, your fingers finding purchase around his own waist.

There’s more of that same warmth when he kisses you, short pecks, yet ones that have you smiling against his lips. The curve remaining as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Let’s go home, just need to grab my stuff,” he says, but makes no effort to move from his position.

“Are you already done for the day?” you frown.

“No,” he muses, “But it’s only the first day. Besides, I wanna sit in bed with my girl while I map her out for the first assignment of the semester.” 

“Does your girl get premium access?” 

“Hm, maybe.” 

Before you can refute, the door of the room bursts open with a bang that reaches straight into your soul. With the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen, you don’t doubt the same was happening in his own chest. 

There isn’t enough time for you to pull away before hearing gasps alluding from the threshold. 

Soonyoung and Minghao stand at the door, scandalized looks complete with hands over their faces. Hao shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes pointed. Soonyoung pulls out his hands, framing them like he was taking a picture of the both of you gripping each other.

“Now what would the bulletin look like with these two on the front cover? You’re friends with Seok, right? D’you think you could put a word in?” Soonyoung yaps, the most insufferable look on his face.

Seungcheol laughs, to your surprise, and looks over to you, “What d’you think the bulletin would look like with his F on the front cover?” 

“D’you think you could put a word in?” you raise your eyebrows. 

His smile widens but he’s being pulled away as both your friends move forward to surround him. You vaguely register Soonyoung cupping your boyfriend’s face delicately, singsonging about their years of friendship, or how Hao has his arms wrapped around him in a back hug, head on his shoulder. 

You vaguely register any of it, because you’re smiling too hard at the scene. Smiling too hard when Seungcheol catches your eye, before bursting out laughing, attempting to wrestle the two off of him. 

You bring your phone up to the chaos instead of your hands, wanting to frame the scene for real this time. 

[scoobydoodean]

#okay wait do y'all think that she wasn't going to try and murder Dean?#Do you think he was going to get through to her?#convince her somehow to not try to stab him?#that she was telling the truth at all in that scene?#because she was totally going to try and kill Dean#like 100% that was going to happen#and if Sam hadn't shot her then Dean would have had to kill her and that would have been so much harder on Dean#like it was disturbing that Dean had a 3 day old monster child that wanted to kill him but who was then killed by her uncle Sam instead#and even more disturbing that they then never mention her again#but these are also the guys who left their half brother in Lucifer's cage and didn't lose any sleep over it so...#and I love Dean but killing Amy was an asshole move#and there's kinda a difference between killing an active imminent threat and killing someone in cold blood after the fact @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

I didn't want to clutter someone else's post but this was partially directed at me? I've talked about the whole "Emma vs Amy" debate quite a few times, but I'll share a few thoughts.

Amy is a present, unrepentant, fully cognizant, adult, serial murderer. She is not actually sorry about what she did in any way. She believes that slaughtering humans like cattle to feed them to her son was the morally correct action even if it wasn't the ethical action because it kept her son alive. She is not correct.

Emma is a brainwashed child who's been psychologically conditioned for a few days. She has never killed anyone and only wants to kill Dean because some women who abused her told her to.

Hunters like Sam and Dean primarily deal in punitive justice, not preventative justice—and what I mean by that is that Sam and Dean try not to kill people (with powers or without powers) who have never killed anyone.

While I think you're right to point out that a preventative justice component is in play, that is not primarily how Dean makes the decision to go after Amy, and the reason we know that is because Amy's son swears to kill Dean and Dean does nothing about it because the boy has done absolutely nothing wrong.

Dean's application of his personal code is consistent here. He kills Amy, who is a murderer who killed four people, but he does not intend to kill Emma or Amy's son—both of whom wanted to kill him—because neither has actually killed anyone and both may choose not to.

You say that Emma was going to kill Dean 100%, but you don't actually know that because we never got to see that future. You assume Amy would never have killed again, but when you add up "murderer who regrets absolutely nothing" and "child vulnerable to catching illnesses" you get "Mom who absolutely would kill again as necessary and who would feel zero remorse doing so just like the last time".

I don't personally think SPN gives us any reason to suspect that three days of psychological conditioning from a cult is too much to overcome. We have seen other characters overcome much more serious levels of psychological conditioning intended to make them killers. For example, Cas and Alex. I'm not saying Emma wasn't trying to pull the wool over Sam and Dean's eyes in the scene where Sam shot her, but I am saying that doesn't actually mean in any way that she couldn't be convinced to actually choose a different path.

Under the same litmus test with which you suggest Emma's condemnation, we'd also condemn season 2 Sam for his potential "future" crimes. We are killing monsters before they actually become those monsters... because of the dark path someone else intends for them to go down. Amy—again—is an active present unrepentant serial killer.

I think sometimes people misremember the scene where Sam kills Emma—recalling the scene as a scene where Emma lunges at Dean with the knife and Sam steps in just in time to save his life, or where Dean is unarmed and Emma has him at knife point. But that is not what happened. Emma quite literally brought a knife to a gun fight. Dean had a gun pointed at her, and if she was thinking straight at all, she would have left to avoid being killed if given the chance—especially when Sam arrived. And had she not, Sam could have shot her at that point—but Sam didn't wait to see what she'd do. He wanted her dead, because even if she ran, he didn't think they were equipped to deal with surprise attacks from Dean's Amazon child. That is the decision Sam made after a brief moment to consider, and it makes sense to me given the headspace he was in at the time and his assessment of Dean's headspace as well, but it does not make his decision consistent with his previous or future behavior regarding people who have been psychologically conditioned to kill.

My own frustrations are more with fandom, for a thought process that really really does not make sense to me, where Emma deserves to die but Amy deserved to live. I do not agree with that premise. I do not understand why so much of fandom has the perspective that a child who hadn't shed a drop of blood and who was acting in response to a cult's torture, who brought a knife to a gun fight and had already been driven into a corner where she had no choice but to surrender or run—doesn't deserve a chance to choose something else before she's barely lived and before she's heard a loving word in her entire life, but an adult with full cognizance of their actions who went through with killing four people and doesn't regret it should go on with their life and is "just a good mom doing what she had to" and killing that person is the bad thing. I don't understand that. I don't think Dean killing Amy was wrong at all in the "hunters kill supernatural murderers" show. The only thing Dean did wrong was lie about it and not take enough care to keep her son from seeing it happen.

[saintvainglorious]

TEMERAIRE FIC RECS

I read no fic at all in May, as I was too busy devouring all nine Temeraire novels in a single month - and then spent a very happy June reading a fairly absurd amount of Temeraire fics. In honor of a Pride month well spent, here's a fic rec list!

(Divided up into categories - Laurence/Tharkay, Laurence/Napoleon, other ships, and gen)

WILLIAM LAURENCE/TENZING THARKAY

ley lines by malfaisant/@stanleyraymondkowalski (T, 14k, 2015) Amnesia era!Laurence sees Tharkay and it doesn't cure his amnesia; a renewed friendship tinged with loss follows

Tharkay makes it to Peking intact with the news of Napoleon’s imminent invasion of Russia. Which would be all well and good, except that Laurence isn’t very intact himself.

which is like everything by sere (This_is_Sere) (G, 3k, 2024) Post-canon Laurence accidentally breaks Tharkay's heart a little, and put it back together in the sweetest way possible

A chance remark from Granby provokes an excess of feeling in Tharkay.

The Reward of Service by yunitsa/@pamphilia (T, 4k, 2016) A lovely post-canon get-together fic, where Granby puts his foot in it a little and realizations are had

‘It is no good asking me,’ Laurence said at last, pushing the pattern-book away over breakfast, ‘I am not the one–’ Not the one who would be living with the result, he had been about to say. But they had hardly accepted Tharkay’s invitation as casual houseguests.

A Soft Dawn by corvile (G, 2k, 2015) A soft and sweet Tongues of Serpents-era fic, featuring accidental spooning, self-introspection, and maybe the most romantic hand-holding known to man

Upon thinking on this feeling of jealousy, Tharkay has done some rather clever intuitive leaps involving situations both real and imagined, and he's come to a rather curious conclusion: he's a little in love with William Laurence.

all flowers in time by lastwingedthing (E, 7k, 2017) A splendid post-canon get-together where it's Laurence who pines after an oblivious Tharkay, rather than the other way around. Also, sex!

The consolations of possession.

Ship's Gossip by Spatz/@cactusspatz (M, 6k, 2019) AU where Laurence takes up Tharkay's offer to become a privateer and Tharkay joins Laurence on the ship; Laurence learns some things about Tharkay, and then about himself

Laurence is beginning to enjoy life as a privateer - though he cannot figure out why Tharkay should still be sailing out with them - when Temeraire decides to ask him about sodomy.

WILLIAM LAURENCE/NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

Dearest William by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (T, 23k, 2016) Laurence and Napoleon are pen pals! Riotously funny, until it's heartbreaking

Napoleon sends a letter to the upstart sea-captain who stole his dragon, Laurence sends one back, and a correspondence begins under the uneasy eye of the admiralty. When Laurence had admitted the matter to Granby his lieutenant exclaimed, “God, does Boney want you drawn and quartered as a traitor?” which seems perfectly possible.

i sing of arms and the man by Jack_R (M, 21k, 2020) Ancient Rome AU (and really good dragon-related worldbuilding)! Laurence longs for the days of the Roman Republic, but Rome's new emperor is rather adept at persuasion

‘You think me a far worthier man than I am,’ he says, then. ‘No,’ Napoleone says, softly, ‘I don’t think I do at all.’

L'envoyé céleste triomphant de la Maladie. Antoine-Jean Gros (1813) by VerdetCadet/@verdet-cadet (G, 3k, 2023) A League of Dragons captured-by-Napoleon fic involving a rather appalling painting and Tharkay and Granby being the world's funniest wingmen (ha)

"Given what he has done with the barest civility on my part, I cannot think what he would do with the least encouragement." “Oh, no?” said Granby innocently, a sentiment that provoked a raised eyebrow from Tharkay over his glass, and in Laurence, a strangeness in the pit of his stomach. Or: Napoleon is an enthusiastic patron of the arts. Laurence's best friends lovingly suss out his willingness to bone Napoleon for political gain and strategic expediency.

Ordinance of Fate by by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (T, 13k (WIP), 2022) *slamming hand on table rythmically* soulmate AU soulmate AU soulmate AU soulmate AU

The name comes when he is 15, and Laurence hides it immediately. Then at the age of 22 Laurence reads a letter from an old shipmate who writes that “the troops in Italy were routed by some new General of theirs, Napoleon Bonaparte-"

Doctrine on Worship by Kangoo/@youngster-monster (G, 6k, 2021) AU where Laurence becomes a priest instead of joining the Navy, and meets Temeraire anyway - but Temeraire's captain takes an interest in his dragon's new friend

“You do not strike me as a man well versed in selfishness. Perhaps you ought to try it; you might find it easier to understand my presence then." In which Laurence made a different choice, a long time ago, which changes very little in the long run.

OTHER SHIPS

Tender Like a Bruise by VerdetCadet/@verdet-cadet (T, 5k, 2024) Granby/Little - Granby struggles with the shame and trauma of losing his arm; Augustine Little is there for him

It is not a good time to be short an arm, if there ever was such a thing. Granby has always prided himself on his competence and his easy good cheer. Now, at a stroke, he finds himself lacking in both.

revelry by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (E, 2k, 2018) Tharkay/Laurence/Granby/Little - Post-canon Tharkay & Laurence invite Granby & Little over to visit, delightful and unabashedly voyueristic sexytimes ensue

Little suddenly turns away and throws himself down on the couch where Laurence previously sat, drunkenness making him stumble a little. He leans heavily against Tharkay, who doesn't mind, and tosses Granby a jaunty salute. “Now you must kiss him, John. I know how long you have wanted to; you will always regret it if you do not."

What comfort I can by VerdetCadet/@verdet-cadet (M, 5k, 2023) Laurence/Granby - Amnesiac!Laurence has suspicions about the nature of his relationship with Granby. Second in a two-part series, part one is also splendid! I just have a fatal weakness for the amnesia era ok

The truth of Laurence's treason comes out while Laurence is still aboard the Potentate. Laurence's half formed memories are just there enough for dangerous conjecture. Granby is there to offer what comfort he can.

That Dare Not Speak Its Name by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (E, 11k (WIP), 2024) Laurence/Granby - Laurence covers for Little and Granby and discoveries are made. The dialogue and introspection are so very delicious I'm SO INVESTED AUGH

After an incriminating letter is discovered, Granby is caught out as an invert – and everyone knows his lover is another captain. Since the companion of a common Yellow Reaper would not be spared the noose, Laurence declares that it's him. Over time, he starts to wish it really were.

Uncharted by novembersmith/@novembersmith (E, 5k, 2009) Laurence/Granby/Tharkay - Laurence and Granby are together and Tharkay is mortified, until he's given quite good reason not to be

Tharkay had had the dubious pleasure of watching Laurence and Granby being blissfully in love for several weeks now.

Foibles by VerdetCadet/@verdet-cadet (M, 3k, 2023) Laurence/Tharkay and Laurence/Napoleon, sort of - Tharkay likes roleplaying and Laurence is not displeased by the role Tharkay takes on this time

Tharkay, faced with an inconvenience he was forced to endure or a problem his mind could not set aside, found his ease by simply Not Being Tharkay for a time.

An Alchemy of Character by PepperHoney (G, 7k, 2023) Tharkay/Granby - Tharkay and Granby compete for Laurence's affections, until they find a more fulfilling use of their time

Granby and Tharkay have been watching each other court Laurence to no avail for years now. It's something of a game between them, truly, one whose success they don't really believe in anymore. It takes a long journey aboard the Allegiance for them to realise--perhaps, if Laurence can't be reached, someone else can.

GEN

Smooth Water All Our Days by 20thcenturyvole (T, 37k, 2021) Technically Laurence/Tharkay (and they're lovely here) but much more gen-focused. Post-canon, Laurence, with his family's help, gets Temeraire's political career off the ground; meanwhile, Tharkay investigates a conspiracy. Also, parties!

Laurence desires nothing more than to retire to Tharkay's estate and help Temeraire get to Parliament, for what more could he want than a place in Britain with space enough for a dragon, and the company of a dear friend? But wars rarely end so neatly. Bellicose lords, Bourbon princes, errant heirs and shadowy forces threaten to undermine the very peace that Laurence and Temeraire fought to obtain, and ruin the happiness that Laurence was just beginning to glimpse.

remember (you deserve this) by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (T, 10k, 2018) Laurence finds a different way to punish himself for the treason. Superb angst (mind the tags), and the last line of this fic d e s t r o y e d me

Laurence is pardoned for Temeraire's sake, but he manages to punish himself anyway.

Animal Husbandry by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (G, 11k, 2017) Laurence is told that Temeraire accepted Dayes as his captain, but Laurence cannot forget the dragon he's lost.

Weeks after finding a dragon egg in the Amitie’s hold William Laurence reluctantly turns away and lets the Corps take Temeraire - but he doesn’t return to the Navy. He’s not an aviator, but somehow Laurence still ends up going down in history as the instigator behind the Great Dragon Rebellion of ‘06.

Captains by StrangerWithMyFace/@agentem (G, 2k, 2010) Perscitia (my beloved!!!) has a rough day; Wellington, in his roundabout way, is there to cheer her up. I am weak for Perscitia and Wellington bonding weak i say

Perscitia encounters two men at the London covert, and one of them is her captain.

Forays Into Human Sexuality (or whatever Laurence is doing) by WerewolvesAreReal/@werewolves-are-real (G, 1k, 2024) Laurence finds out that no, actually, not every man is secretly a repressed bisexual

Laurence says, “It is wholly natural, anyway, with no women around.”

[stari-hun]

The Foundation vs Manus Vindictae

This idea was inspired by @ihaveforgortoomany ‘s post here!

It’s so fun that the story makes sure we know and see that the difference between The Foundation and Manus is the head start the Foundation has on being an established organization, and whether they pretend to be good. This is also like you said, a big part of why the Foundation wants to restore time. They had a massive advantage in being a long time establish organization. In Regulus’ time, it was implied from her reaction the Foundation had full authority to approach Arcanists and register them, or at least strongly convince them to join. Manus tries to have a persona of salvation over pure goodness but this is maintained moreso because they can’t actively gaslight people.

If you look into The Three Doors and see how people were affected by the incomplete version of the Artificial Somnambulism. They were going insane because it was never a good machine with good intent. It was made to use frequencies to manipulate the mind of an arcanist. While Laplace employees use the machine in order soothe injured arcanists or panicking ones, that doesn’t mean they’re not brainwashing members. They bend reality for these people to comfort them but that comfort is built on dependence and complete trust of the Foundation. Which is why on of my theories is that the AS is a reason Arcanists have mental breaks so frequently in the Foundation, the Manus has breakdowns within their ranks however that’s from exposure to the Manus Masks carrying The Storm chemical within them. Name Day in Getian’s character story event even has a mention that the AS is very dangerous for the way it gets into someone’s head, and Getian breaks into it because he had experienced something similar. He’s then able to have them see what he wishes. Taking what Jessica saw in [The Old One Flew Over the House], the AS is also used as a training tool for arcanists and a way to get true test answers out of them. Why would she need to take her exam in the AS when she could simply answer Foundation staff 1-1?? There’s no point of it besides getting into Arcanist’s subconscious. The reason this doesn’t work on Vertin anymore is because she holds zero trust for The Foundation anymore.

I think Arcanists in general tend to take a lot more mental stress from contradictions in their heads, for instance people create false memories if they have a gap in their memory because the brain doesn’t like having gaps there. We’d rather lie to ourselves or create a false reality than deal with pure unknown, but with The Storm no one knows what anything will be next.

After the events of Book 3, Vertin no longer places her trust in the Foundation because she knows what Constantine did. Madam Z wasn’t able to find out in time to save them, so Vertin watched her classmates disappear in front of her because Constantine wanted to unlock the potential in her. She then went on her own journey to record the eras directly, without being able to save anyone. Vertin won’t ever leave The Foundation because their goals align, but she might one day near the end of the story work with Madam Z to overturn the current system. Sonetto on the other hand has an imminent fate of her loyalty breaking towards the Foundation. She already suspects them of being morally corrupt at least to her standards, and she’s torn between choosing them and Vertin. From how we see her trust Vertin in [A Nightmare at Greenlake] + how she doesn’t make any comment on following the rules when Horropedia is blatantly breaking them, I think her loyalty switches to Vertin at some point.

Also a big theme is that Manus and Foundation both very much consider people expendable. The Manus treats weaker arcanists and humans blatantly as canon fodder, but Constantine sacrificed a group of children because they were defectors (Horropedia makes a note about how their actions had the entire school talking to the point they ran out of space to discipline them) and it might push Vertin to want to go out into The Storm to find a cure in the Name of Peace.