#and the more she throws herself into finding the cure for him

[softquietsteadylove]

Hey:) do you know the Hanahaki Disease?

It would be very interesting if you would write a prompt about Gil getting this disease! It will get pretty badly in the next weeks (Gil can’t tell her that he loves her, she has to find it out herself) and Thena tries to help him. Maybe she realizes that it’s her who he loves when he is very close to dying, having a hard time breathing because he is chocking and coughing flowers and blood.

Would be intense Angst/comfort. You decide if there is an happy ending :)

"How is he?"

Sersi sighed, turning to Thena, who had been in to see Gil constantly since he'd first shown signs of Hanahaki. "You know what I'm going to say."

Thena shrivelled. She did know; ever since Gil had first coughed up that first flower, it had only gotten worse. And Thena had been miserable ever since.

"It's not just buds anymore, Thena," Sersi frowned, holding up one such specimen with some blood at the edge of its petals, "they're full blossoms, now."

Thena grasped the blooming white rosebud, stained red around its edge. Roses were one of the deadliest forms of Hanahaki. The prognosis was not good, to say the least. "Oh, Gil."

"I'll leave you two alone," Sersi whispered softly, resting a hand on Thena's shoulder. "He doesn't have long, I'm afraid. Just...just be here with him."

Thena sat herself right next to Gil, watching the laboured rise and fall of his chest, his face twisted in discomfort as he tried to breathe. She took his hand in hers, "oh, Gil, I'm so sorry."

She had been beside herself when he'd first started coughing. It had lasted weeks, and he had refused to admit that it was more than just a cold. It was all the evidence she needed, and it didn't take her long to catch him coughing up the petals.

At first they were small--little bud petals that were annoying, but mild, all things considered. And Thena was furious, demanding to know who had done this to him (who wasn't returning his affections and letting him suffer).

"Just tell me!"

"You know I can't," he'd argued back at her, and it was the only time she could ever remember him even remotely raising his voice at her.

She had looked up Hanahaki extensively, gone to see experts, read books. But the material didn't vary much, and the end result was always the same: if Gil's love wasn't returned and expressed to him, the flowers would take root in his lungs, and he would...

Thena swiped away a few tears, raising his hand to her lips as he slept. She couldn't imagine what he was going through, but the thought of having to go through life without him was taking up a lot of her head. It was selfish, she knew, not just to Gil, but to whomever had done this to him. She just wished she knew who it was.

Their friends didn't seem to have any idea. They all just got these sad, pitying looks on their faces whenever she brought it up (so she had stopped doing so).

If someone else had contracted Hanahaki because of Gil--that she would understand. Gil was sweet, and charming, and funny, everything a girl could want. And more than that, he was so deeply caring about everyone around him. He really had the biggest heart of anyone she had ever known, and he was loyal, and devoted to a fault.

Who was it that had stolen Gil's heart?

Thena frowned at herself. They hadn't stolen it--it was his to give. She just didn't know...why hadn't he told her? They shared everything! He would have mentioned someone he liked, long, long before Hanahaki could set in...wouldn't he?

Gil's face twisted as his chest shook again. He coughed in his sleep, his throat clenching.

"Gil," Thena sniffled, rubbing his chest as he groaned. "Let it out."

Gil choked, a few petals flying from his mouth, also sheer white. He turned over, coughing out the rest of the rose head before lying back again.

"I'm so sorry," Thena whispered, at a loss for what else to do. Her poor Gil was suffering and there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.

And she had thought about it. If she could find whomever had done this to her Gil and force them to love him, then she would officiate their impromptu wedding herself. Anything to put an end to Gil's pain.

But the thought kept bringing up a rather uncomfortable pain in her own chest. She had dismissed it as her sympathies time and time again. But eventually, she had to wonder if that was what really was bothering her.

She had been so focused on learning about Hanahaki in its early stages. But in her sudden and unusual distance from Gil, she had discovered a kind of..uncomfortable feeling.

Who was it that Gil loved? And why wasn't it her?

She had only let the thought cross her mind a few times. She had no right, she told herself. They were friends--the very best of friends. They shared everything with each other, and she was so shocked when he started showing signs of the flowery death that she threw herself into denial.

How could she not have noticed any signs of him falling in love? How did she not even know who it was? And why had she cried when she thought about Gil being in love with someone?

She had been by his side for so long. She knew everything about him, and even things he wasn't sure of himself. His voice was like music and his presence was like the air she needed to breathe.

Why hadn't Gil fallen in love with her?

Thena nestled her face against his shoulder, holding his hand and listening to the whistle of his lungs. It was so ridiculous--now that he was dying, she had lost her chance to love him. Because why love him now just to watch him suffer?

But she couldn't help it.

She loved him. How could she not love him? It was Gil--her sweet Gilgamesh. Her sweet Gil, who would make them food, who would talk with her for hours, who swore he would always be there with her. She had never questioned if she loved Gil before. She thought it was a given.

But apparently he loved someone else, and the flowers in his airway were evidence of that.

Thena brushed her finger over his cheeks. She could see the pallor of his skin, the way his veins were trying to adjust to the disease. Flowers would start bursting through his skin the closer to death he got. Her beautiful Gil would only be more beautiful in death.

Thena moved closer, kissing along his cheek--everywhere she could see the light line of an angry red vein. Why bother trying not to love him, now? She was in love with him, just in time for him to leave her.

"I hope it's quiet," she whispered over him as she kissed his forehead. "I hope it's not painful."

Another kiss.

"I hope I get it next," she admitted without shame, kissing his other cheek. "I hope I find you again."

She kissed away the blood at the corners of his lips.

"I hope you love me in the next life."

Thena leaned over him, pressing her lips to his and tasting the sweet, airiness of roses on him. She vaguely wondered what flower she would grow in her lungs without Gil beside her. Maybe something to remind her of him, like a robust zinnia, or perhaps an orange blossom, to remind her that she would love him far past a single eternity.

"I hope whomever did this to you is suffering tenfold."

"That seems a little harsh."

"Gil?" Thena gasped, sitting up at the melodious sound of his voice. She released her hold on him to look at him properly.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching up to swipe her tears away. He coughed faintly, but no flowers emerged.

"A-Are you," Thena blinked, not daring to believe it as he coughed without a single petal emerging, "are you okay?"

"Better than I was, that's for sure," he even smiled at her, some colour returning to his skin and the redness of his veins fading.

"Gil, I mean it," Thena asserted, her lip wobbling and her eyes unable to stop her tears. She held his cheeks in her hands, trembling as if on the precipice of shattering. "You can't say this and then...and then leave-"

"I'm not going anywhere, Thena," he promised her solemnly, taking one of her hands in his and pulling it to his lips. "Especially not now."

"Oh, Gil," she sighed before leaning in, pressing her lips to his. His hand moved to tangle in her hair, just as desperate to hold her to him. He still tasted like roses. "I love you."

"Just in time," he smiled between kisses, her pulling him closer but unwilling to move him.

"Thena!" Sersi burst back inside. As much as she might like to imagine giving them a sweet moment alone with their lovely revelations, she still had a patient to see. "Thena, it happened!"

"Hey," Gil waved at her, holding Thena's weeping form to his chest on the bed with him. And true enough, signs of Hanahaki were already fading, including any and all specimens of the buds he had coughed up.

"Sersi," Thena looked up, still crying with elation, "is it really gone?"

Sersi smiled, moving Thena away from Gil as gently as possible to place her stethoscope on his chest. She moved it around a few times, looking at Thena clinging to Gil's hands as she did. "That's one hell of a heart rate, but your lungs are clearer than they've ever been."

She was about to tell Thena that the Hanahaki had cleared itself up nicely, but Thena was already in Gil's arms again, kissing his face all over. "I'll leave you two alone."

[sinnomel]

Absolutely Peachy

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav

Summary: Tav and Gale's conversation after Elminster's visit goes great. Slight angst but it ends cute imo.

A/N: First post breaking my very long writing hiatus to write about Gale because there aren't enough fics. Let me know if you'd like more one shots cause I think the world needs more Gale ( ´ ▿ ` ) - Sin

There was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Tav for the surprise encounter with Elminster. She was hoping that she could meet the esteemed wizard under happier circumstances, perhaps when this damned tadpole was out from between her eyes, attempting to command the helm that is her brain. 

The wise old man was jolly at first, introducing himself to the rest of the group, reprimanding Gale for his lack of decorum and grace. Tav thought nothing of it, inviting the elder to their camp, despite Gale’s scowl, awaiting for Elminster’s true reason for appearing before them in the shadow lands.

However, after the food and wine, Elminster’s visage seemed less friendly, less warm. His words were cold, concise, and fatal. Gale was to gain Mystra’s forgiveness on one condition - he was to essentially explode, destroying the curse within him and everything in a large surrounding area. It could rid them of the Absolute, of course. It could bring death to a lot of people if he decided to do this in or near Baldur’s Gate. Usually, this would be a decision that the group would push past, finding the cure for the tadpoles being their priority as the clock was ticking on them becoming mindflayers. However, this revelation had Tav’s heart sinking to the ground below her. 

Tav had become particularly close to Gale, finding her feeling solidified after spending time with him in between camping and the battlefield. A complete accident on her part. There was something charming about the man’s rants, how his eyes lit up explaining the Weave, talking about his cat and how he would spend his days rummaging through the literature that covered the walls of his tower in Waterdeep. Tav never intended to fall for Gale, yet here she was. 

It was clear as day what her thoughts on the matter were, as Gale had asked if everything was alright once Elminster and everyone else had retired to their respective tents and bedrolls. Tav was beside herself, “Am I alright? Absolutely peachy Gale.” Gale’s eyes held a hint of sadness as she continued. “I’m definitely alright. I’m wonderful knowing that Mystra herself has offered you forgiveness but only under the guise of the afterlife,” she spat. “Tav. I understand your frustration. Trust me, I too am frustrated with Mystra. But I can no longer satiate the hunger of the Orb that rests inside of me. There is nothing that I can do. This is my fate,” he explained, his hand twitching, as if involuntarily reaching out for her hand but stopping himself because she’s upset. He can only assume that his touch would only lead to more anger and hurt. If only he knew how much Tav yearned for his touch, how much she would fantasize it under the stars, sometimes without her knowing how she got to that topic of thinking.

“Since when have we ever listened to fate?” Tav asked, her gaze off towards the right where the water seemed to stand still and the only sound accompanying them was the soft crackle of the makeshift fire off towards the center of camp. “We have tadpoles that threaten our very existence. Every hour that passes, we teeter on the brink of becoming mind flayers. How long have we traveled together and not a single tentacle has sprouted?” she asked. Tav was breathing heavy, the conversation weighing on her physically. She couldn’t comprehend why he was giving in to this demand - his life was on the line and would he so easily throw it away? However, in that instance, Tav realized that this is coming from a selfish place. In this moment, Tav realized that the reason she was so uncharacteristically upset about Gale throwing his life away for the sake of Mystra’s forgiveness and to satiate the Orb maintaining its nest in his chest is because she has grown to love the wizard of Waterdeep. 

Perhaps her eyes had given Gale indication that she had realized something, as he asked “Tav, what’s-“ “Do not ask me what is wrong Gale. I fear I realized something a bit too late. I do not wish to talk about it right now…it isn’t appropriate.” “Is it about me?” He intercepted. 

Tav stumbled and said nothing. Her gaze was now on the dirt ground, her heart pounding out of her rib cage. She was silent for a beat, but Gale was patient. If she was willing to speak, he was more than willing to listen - it would be ironic if she listened to his rambling and he couldn’t do the same. Tav, despite just saying that she didn’t wish to speak on the matter, could not stop herself.

“I’m acting out of emotion rather than logic, Gale,” Tav started. Her eyes slowly made her way up to his own brown ones, making this conversation harder. She could feel her heart changing rhythm upon meeting his gaze, how her body yearned to be held in his embrace in this moment, how she craved a chaste kiss. 

Gale seemed to put two and two together, or rather, what he thought was two and two. 

“I know this seems very obscene and I may never be granted forgiveness. Trust me, I don’t wish to die. But Mystra wants to rid the world of the Absolute. My demise might very well be the only thing that could stop-“

“I love you.” 

Gale was taken aback and fell silent, completely off guard by the three sweet words he would often dream of hearing from Tav’s lips. Perhaps he had imagined it? He dared ask, hoping his imagination, or the amalgamation of his heart beating so thunderously in his chest wouldn’t disrupt the orb.

“Pardon?” Gale asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he took a step toward her. “I love you Gale. I don’t want you to succumb to that entitled goddess for my own selfish reasons,” Tav started, unable to stop her words from coming out. If not now, she felt, when? Who knew when Gale would just decide to commit to Mystra’s possible false promises. 

“There is always another way. We’ve constantly found alternatives to problems. Please…don’t go through with this. Do you not wish to live?” the appointed leader of the group asked the man before her. She could feel the warm accumulation of tears threatening to pour over the edge of her tear ducts, the shakiness of her breath not helping her. 

Gale was speechless. He didn’t know what to do. He always painted this picture of how he wanted to profess his love to Tav - a beautiful sunset in Waterdeep whilst both of them spent the hours in his tower, two glasses of wine served out for them and Tara, his cat in his company, along with the countless books he seems to have. The piano would play songs from their travels to incite conversation of nostalgia, how they felt in those moments, laughing about their perilous travels. And when the sun hit the golden hour, the sky would be adorned with pink, orange and purple clouds, he would place his forehead on hers, his gaze focused on her soft lips and utter…

“I love you.” 

But they were here, in this camp, the conditions of his profession of love not met. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to be because he wouldn’t make it back to Waterdeep. Perhaps he won't live past a couple nights from now. 

“Gale…Say something,” Tav said, her voice cracking, two tears escaping their captivity, trailing down her cheeks. Gale couldn’t think of any words. Instead he chose to react, slowly closing the space between them. His hands made their way up to her cheeks, softly wiping away the stray tears. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was torn. He very badly wanted to rid himself of the Orb and obtain Mystra’s forgiveness, but on the other, he had Tav, who had seemingly loved him unconditionally. None of his magic was necessary to woo her. Not his history of being a prodigy of magic, not his mastery of spells, not his conduction of the weave. Just him. 

Gale couldn’t help but close the space between himself and Tav, placing a soft kiss upon her lips. In this moment, he forgot all about Mystra and her empty promises, the orb, all of it. All that occupied his mind was Tav and how soft her lips felt against his own. He pulled away, staying close.

“I love you too.”

[beestriker015]

Yandere Lusamine x male s/o

It’s fairly well known amongst employees of the Aether Foundation that the once bubbly and kind personality of their president took a sharp turn for the worst when Lusamine’s husband disappeared several years ago, even to the point of driving her own two children away, which only helped to damage her psyche even more.

Whether it be to find something/someone new to bestow her affections onto, or perhaps to cure a well hidden loneliness, Lusamine eventually began obsessing over something other than Ultra Wormholes and pokémon, that being a man named s/o.

S/o is a nice looking man in his early thirties who used to work for Silph Co. in the Kanto region during his younger years before joining the Aether Foundation due to his love of caring for pokémon.

“Hello Miss Lusamine! My name is s/o, and it’s an honor to be working for you.”

This was what s/o said upon meeting his new boss for the first time after being hired to be her assistant, thus kicking off Lusamine’s obsession.

“Yes! He’s the one! I can tell already that this man is worthy of the love so many seem to throw away! I will make him mine soon enough.”

Aether’s president thinks to herself before turning to s/o and smiling sweetly at him.

“Such good manners. I like that. I look forward to having you by my side s/o.”

She tells him in a tone that both flusters him and unnerves him slightly.

“T-thank you ma’am. I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.”

“Glad to hear it. Now come along s/o, there’s already work that needs to be done.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Following Lusamine to her office, s/o begins his first day working at the Aether Foundation.

Working for Lusamine was rather strange to s/o.

Despite being his boss, she seemed to be doting and almost…loving to him.

Yet s/o didn’t think much of it, and in fact actually enjoyed it due to developing a crush on Lusamine.

The more time they spent together, the more Lusamine’s unhealthy attraction to s/o grew.

“I can’t hold back anymore! The longer I wait, the more I risk some other woman sinking her claws into my darling s/o! He is the only person deserving of my love, and I will not lose him!”

She tells herself before deciding to confess to s/o first thing in the morning.

“Before we go over our itinerary for the day. There’s something you need to know s/o.”

“W-what is it ma’am?”

He asks in a shaky voice, fearing he’s about to be fired.

“I’ll get straight to the point. I want you to be mine.”

She says with a blank expression, which changes to a small smile once seeing her darling’s flustered expression.

“C-can you repeat that please? I might have misheard you.”

“You heard me just fine s/o. Ever since you’ve started working for me, I’ve become romantically attracted to you. I repeat, will you be mine?”

Not wanting to pass the chance to be with his crush, s/o nods and smiles.

“I’d like that. Honestly, I kinda fell in love with you not long after I became your assistant.

Hearing this brings a great big smile to Lusamine’s face as her heart beats faster, incredibly happy that her darling loves her back.

“Oh s/o! Come here so that I may shower you with my love!”

She pulls him into a bone-crushing embrace and kisses him passionately.

“I’m yours now my love, just as you are mine, and I will never let you go.”

Lusamine whispers into s/o’s ear, thus officially making them a couple.

Unknowingly dating a yandere can be problematic at times because Lusamine very much tries to isolate s/o from his friends, family, and coworkers.

If s/o ever questions her behavior, his girlfriend manipulates him into believing whatever lie she comes up with.

“I’ve heard them say awful things behind your back my love, so it’s best that you cut them out of your life and focus on me. You know I would never treat you badly, unlike those wretched people.”

Due to being incredibly trusting, s/o believes everything Lusamine tells him, much to her glee.

Lusamine gets jealous very easily, and if she sees another woman talking or Arceus forbid flirting with s/o, bad things are about to happen.

While not a murderous kind of yandere, Lusamine has the money and connections to ruin the lives of anyone she deems a threat to her relationship with s/o.

A woman flirted with s/o?

Well, she will soon gets a call from work telling her that she’s fired, and unfortunately for her, no other reputable business or company will be hiring her thanks to Lusamine.

“Hmph! That’s what the harlot gets for messing with what’s mine.”

Lusamine thinks to herself while smiles like a lunatic after receiving the news.

One benefit from being in a relationship with the president of the Aether Foundation is that s/o is constantly showered with gifts, whether it be clothes, jewelry, trinkets, or anything else.

Nothing is too grand or expensive for Lusamine’s darling s/o.

“Honey, I appreciate everything you do for me, but you didn’t have to get me this.”

“Nonsense, you deserve it for being such a loyal and loving boyfriend.”

“But a weeklong stay at a villa in Undella Town? That’s all the way in Unova!”

“Yes, considering it a reward for all your hard work as my assistant. It’s about time you and I take a vacation together don’t you agree?”

Lusamine is also incredibly affectionate with s/o, even in front of her employees.

“Have you seen the way the President acts around her assistant?”

“Yeah, she seems so much happier than before. It’s like Miss Lusamine’s back to her old self again.”

A pair of employees whisper to each other while watching Lusamine cling to s/o with a happy smile on her face while touring the Conservation Area of Aether Paradise.

If s/o has any pokémon under his care, they automatically become Lusamine’s favorite pokémon.

After all, if these pokémon belong to her beloved darling, then they’re worthy of her love as well.

“Look at you. You’re all so beautiful! Much like your trainer, but to a lesser degree of course.”

She tells s/o’s pokémon with adoration in her voice, although they are slightly scared of her due to sensing the crazy vibes of their trainer’s girlfriend.

Because of the age difference between her and s/o, Lusamine often feels insecure about their relationship.

“My darling says he loves me, but what if he meets someone younger! I’m a previously married woman in her 40s with two ungrateful children! Not that I’d ever let him leave me, but what if s/o woke up one day and decided he no longer wants my love?!”

This thought drives Lusamine to the brink of insanity, but luckily s/o reins her in and does his best to reassure his girlfriend, unaware of her darker thoughts.

“I don’t care that you’re older than me, or that you had a family before we got together. I love you Lusamine, and I’m never gonna leave you.”

“D-do you promise?”

She asks him, letting the more innocent and child-like side of her personality shine through.

“Yes. I’d never lie or joke about something like that babe, you know that.”

S/o’s reassurance calms her down quite a bit as she hugs him tightly.

“Thank you my darling s/o. You truly are deserving of all my love and affection, even more so than the rarest pokémon in the world.”

Not long after this, Lusamine asks for her beloved’s hand in marriage one day after having a very romantic evening together, which he happily accepts.

“S/o, the light of my life, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Before she can even get on one knee and pull out the ring, s/o gets up from the table and nods with a very ecstatic smile on his face, much to her delight.

“Yes! Absolutely! I love you Lusamine!”

He hugs her with happy tears in his eyes as she chuckles and smiles softly with a crazed twinkle in her eyes before speaking.

“I love you too my dear, and once we’re married, our love will be eternal.”

Despite her previous husband and children leaving her (at least in her twisted point of view), Lusamine takes solace in knowing that s/o, the lone person worthy of her immense love, will never abandon her like they did, and if someone foolishly dares try to steal the object of her obsession away, well…

The experiments Lusamine and the Aether Foundation plan on conducting involving Ultra Wormholes will require a few test subjects….whether they’re willing or not.

[mewnewew]

Sir Crocodile x reader

This is new to me, and honestly it started as a rant, then it....continued. Crocodile is very ooc here. There's a lot, I'll see if this becomes a series or not, depending on how this goes.

Slightly nsfw

It had started raining earlier, and he didn't realise it until after he started to prepare to leave. How annoying.

Daz was on the other side of the island apparently, helping out with some shipments and Mihawk was, well, lurking somewhere. That meant that Crocodile had no umbrella and had to go back, soaking wet, to his tent. Blast this damn island

The minute he stepped inside, grumbling and in a foul mood, she got up to meet him.

"Oh. Let me help you" She said quietly, coming close to him, peering up at him.

He didn't reply and instead trudged forwards, removing his coat and hanging it on the coat hanger, before moving to the wooden seat in front of the bed, plopping down on it with a huff. She moved noiselessly, already holding a towel, and handing it to him as she worked on removing his ascot. He looked down at her, as she rolled up the ascot, dropping into a basket and starting to pull his vest off of him. Then starting work on his dripping shirt.

She looked focused, calm. He started to wonder, just how and why did he decide to pick her to marry. She was cute, sure. She wasn't drop dead gorgeous by cultural means, neither was she all the more smart. She was more like a little puppy half the time. So why did he pick her?

She paused, and looked up at him.

"What?"

His hand found her chin and turned it this way and that, as if checking out a fruit at a marketplace. She stayed still. Of course she did.

~~~

Sometimes, when he allowed himself to stay in bed for a few more moments, he studied her. Sometimes, she buried the upper part of her face into his torso, other times face turned to the side fast asleep. But always, always, as close to him as she could possibly be when asleep. She had an unruly nature of moving a bit, but soon settled.

Very rarely, she would stir when he studied her in those quiet morning, drowsy eyes meeting his calm purple ones. Blinking slowly as she started to wake up. She would meet that gaze and just stay like that for a short while before shuffling closer and cupping his face, all the while having a cautious touch to her gaze, as if asking, "is this okay? Are you going to push me away?"

Some nights when he came home, he could see she wasn't as loud and cheery as she usually was. She was quiet, and her eyes wasn't as bright as they usually were. She would act aloof.

She would throw herself into reading something or watching something for hours on end, eyes completely focused and completely quiet.

In bed, she would bury her face into the pillow, still close to him. In the mornings, he would find her curled up, like she wanted to make herself as small as possible, fast asleep.

The nights when she was more touchy feely than usual? Those were bad nights. She would interrupt him during dinner by climbing into his lap, turning her face into his chest.

He never understood it, but when he did ask her, she'd reply,

"It's too loud in my head."

The only cure to this, which he managed to come up with, was to give her affection. That was the only thing which seemed to work for her. She'd take in a small but shuddering breath, becoming limp in his arms.

Then there were early mornings where he'd wake up, eyes lazily watching as she woke up, sat up, hair slightly messed up, shirt hanging off one shoulder, and having a little bit of drool on her face and with that groggy look in her eyes and he swore it did something to him. Those eyes.

Maybe it was that?

Her eyes, which seemed to change according to her moods, sparkle when she was happy, dim and dull when she wasn't. He was sure that even if she wore a mask which covered her mouth, one could still talk with her eyes.

Those eyes, groggy and soft when they looked at him in those mornings, those eyes, sparkling and bright when she was excited, he loved those eyes.

He remembers, once when she was kidnapped (it happened when she was coming to the island), he found her sitting quietly, hands tied up behind the chair, head hanging low, a few cuts and bruises across her skin and her eyes blindfolded.

He tugged on the blindfold with his hook so the cloth came off, and met her curious, tired eyes

"Oh. Hello"

"You okay?" He asked gruffly.

All she had done was nod.

He remembered that on the way back, she just looked tired, looking out the window and just seeming more lethargic than usual.

She looked at him then.

"If they had killed me....what would you have done?"

He stared back at her for a few moments, inhaling, then letting out a puff of smoke slowly

"I would have killed them regardless"

".....And?"

"And?"

"What else would you have done?"

He sat down next to her, his hook going forwards and lightly pushing on her cheek.

"What would you want me to have done?"

She blinked a few moments, then looked down at her hands, fiddling with them.

"....Leave it."

"No. Tell me."

She looked at him again.

"What would you have done....to ease your grief?"

Now he was the one who paused. Then he continued.

"I wouldn't feel the same."

She blinked owlishly, confused.

"Feel?"

"Yes, feel. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"......Oh."

She looked down again, eyebrows furrowed, focusing her gaze on her hands as they bunched up the bedsheets. He slid the curve of his hook under her chin and tilted it up, looking into her face.

"You're mine. Understand?"

She nodded.

He leaned forwards, kissing her lips, sliding his hook around her neck and tugging her forwards, shifting to place a kiss on her forehead, resting his face against the top of her head, silent and still now.

She was in a sort of odd position, but he let her shuffle till she was comfortable.

"I wasn't scared." Soft, quiet.

"I know"

She snickered

"Daz said you were more snappy"

"Quiet, you." He squeezed her slightly.

She let out muffled giggles against his neck and beside himself he smiled slightly. There you are.

The strange thing was that after the kidnapping, her sense of hearing seemed to have become more sensitive. "She must have been hit on the head at some point"  is what the doctors said.

That meant she had to wear earpieces to muffle the sounds around her slightly to a more manageable degree.

She was sitting on his lap when the earpieces came, and she just stared at them curiously, examining them before putting them on and then looking at him.

"Do I look weird?"

"No."

She nodded and lay her head against his torso, as if nothing had happened. He cupped her jaw and tilted it up, turning her head this way and that, before squishing her cheeks slightly.

"Do they hurt?"

"Mo" She garbled, cheeks squished together.

He nodded and let her cheeks go, before continuing with his work.

He was watching her now, dance her way through the odd path between the bananwani, to him

"Hello" She chirped.

He raised an eyebrow.

"What is it"

She beamed, showing her palm, a small shiny pearl sitting in the centre

"I found this on the beach!"

On nights when his stump ached, she would hand him the mirror and dim the lights. She would make everything as comfortable as possible for him.

On nights she was on his lap as he worked late into the night, he'd hold her jaw, tilting her face upwards as he kissed her. His hook arm would tighten around her torso, flipping her to face him fully as he continued licking into her mouth. He'd leave her jaw and slide his hand up her shirt, palming her breast. Then that night would lead to other activities which would leave her gasping for air, and him smoking a cigar.

He remembered that one night, when the guild had to meet with some important investors at a gala and he'd taken her along, only for him to end up captivated by the dress she draped and the easy smile she wore that he ended up fucking her in the car ride back home and then some. She was so pretty with that glossy look in her eyes, as he pushed into her again and again.

Once he got injured in a fight with the Marines and as soon as Daz left the room, he looked at her. She was staring down at her hands, white knuckled as they clutched the bedsheets.

"I'm okay."

"I know that"

He raised an eyebrow. She let out a sigh, then looked at him.

"It's just...I'm worried. I'm being silly I know but-"

"But?"

She reached out a hand and carefully placed it on his, squeezing it slightly. She offered a slow smile.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

He snorted, then grumbled.

"Of course I'd be okay"

She chuckled then climbed into bed, on her knees, moving to cup his cheeks.

"You're the most precious being to me in my entire life, understand?"

He closed his eyes as she leaned forwards, on her knees, reaching up to kiss his nose and rest her forehead against his.

A few hours later, he woke up in the middle of the night, and realised that at some point she'd tugged his head onto her chest, curling around him as they slept. Allowing himself to smile slightly, he closed his eyes again, falling back into easy sleep.

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | left behind

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.9k

warnings: angst, angst, angst. so much angst. ep two spoilers. tess's death. grief. loss. infected stuff. reader is tess's younger sister. age gap. more angst. so much angst. slightly violent reader.

synopsis: in which joel honours a promise he made to tess that means he must force reader to leave your infected sister behind in boston. resentment and a bit of hurt/comfort ensues as you head to frank and bill's.

sibling!tess x reader, reader x joel, little bit of reader x ellie

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

“Holy shit. She’s infected.”

You didn’t think the world could fall apart twice, but you look at Tess as Ellie's words settle in and realise you were wrong. Here you are again, losing everything. This time, you don’t know if you can survive. 

“Tess…” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. “No. No. No.” 

Beside you, Joel is deadly still. He looks at your sister with such detachment that you want to scream. This is Tess. Fucking Tess. 

But you know him. You know he’s good at switching off when things get tough. Not like you. You wear your heart on your damn sleeve, and you can’t fucking do this. You look at her again, heart breaking. You feel every tear, every shard slipping through your ribcage. Tess is motionless — resigned. She wears sadness, but no fear. None anybody but you can see, anyway. You grew up with her. You can see the fading light in her eyes in a way the others won’t. 

And you don’t know what to do.

“Let me see it,” Joel orders quietly.

“Joel…” Tess pleads. 

“Show me,” he growls. 

Bitterly, she tears down the collar of her shirt, revealing the infection blossoming across bruised veins. Your knees threaten to buckle, nausea rising in your throat. 

“No.” Tears slip down your cheeks, and you’re already searching the room again for some hint the Fireflies might have left, some sign that it won’t end like this. “No. The girl is a cure. If we can just—”

Tess is saying your name. You’re not listening. If you listen, it will be real. If you listen, you will have to say goodbye to the only family you have left. 

“Joel,” she’s saying now. “This kid… this kid is real, okay? You gotta get her, get them both, to Tommy’s. He’ll know where to go, what to do.”

“No. No, I’m not doing that,” he replies. 

You’re still rattling around, searching old papers and nooks for something, anything; as though you’ll find a miracle in the shadows. 

“If not for the kid then for her.” Tess’s voice rises. You squeeze your eyes shut, your back turned to her. “She needs you, Joel. This is the end of the road for me, but you need to keep going. Promise me."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you shout, throwing the first thing you find against the wall. It smashes to dust. “We’ll find a way out of this, Tess. We always fucking do. Let’s just stop and figure it out!” 

“There is no figuring it out.” Tess marches over to you, gripping your face in her hands. You try so hard to fight it, so hard to stay in denial, but you look at her drawn face and know she’s already half-gone. You know the worry furrowing her brows isn’t for herself, but for you. For what will happen to you now. She practically raised you, toughening you up or else cradling you through the bad nights, never any in between. It made you both strong and so unbearably weak. Not like Joel, who has never let anything touch him. 

You choke on a sob and close your eyes. “Please, Tess. Please. This can’t be it. I need you.”

“I need you. I need you to be safe. I need you to keep going. Please, sweetheart.” She softens, brushing the tears from your eyes. “Please. For me.”

“No—” 

The sound of moans and the shuffling of uneven footsteps interrupt your protest. Joel goes to the window and curses, readying his gun. “Infected. Shit tonne of ‘em. We gotta go.”

You grab Tess’s wrist without thinking. “Come on.”

But she slips out of your grasp, stepping away from all of you. Ellie has tears in her eyes, but she says nothing, looking for the first time not to Tess or Joel, but to you. 

“I can buy you some time, but you have to run. You have to go,” Tess whispers. 

You shake your head again, ferociously this time. “No. No, I’m not leaving. If you stay, I stay.”

She snaps her head away. “Joel. Get her out of here.”

You fight back a bitter scoff, fists curling at your sides — but then hands lock around your arms, nudging you away. “Come on," Joel grunts. "We have to go. Now.”

The betrayal stings. This is fucking Tess. Of all people, he should want to help her. He shouldn’t be giving up on her. 

You snarl, “Fuck you if you think I’m going anywhere!” 

He doesn’t let up, face carved from stone. “We can’t stay,” he hisses, ducking his head to meet your eye. “You want us all to die?” 

“You go! I’m not—”

“Now, Joel!” Tess is yelling. “Get her the fuck out of here now!”

He swears under his breath again and then his arms are like a vice around your waist, your feet lifting from the floor as he drags you away, kicking and screaming. 

“No!” You’re shrieking now, vocal cords ripping apart as you try to reach for your sister. "Tess!"

But she doesn’t reach back. She turns away, and you know with certainty it’s the last time you’ll see her face. 

“Tess, please!” Sobs erupt from you, and you fight harder now, but Joel is too strong, too broad, too heavy-handed to let you go. “Please! Please! Let me go! Let me stay with her! She's my fucking sister, Joel!” 

The fresh air hits you all at once. One moment you’re there, watching your sister get smaller and smaller as infected scratch and rattle the doors, and then you’re back in the rubble of the drab city, the gold dome of Massachusetts State House dwindling. 

And then exploding.

As your feet finally hit the floor and you try to nudge Joel away, the earth cracks with black smoke and you’re thrown to the ground. Joel’s warmth shields you, and you feel Ellie trembling at your side. 

Silence blankets you like ash. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend it. Any of it. 

You shove Joel to look back at the State House. The building that is no longer a building, just debris and fire. 

The building where your sister was standing not a moment ago. 

“No.” You say the word differently now. Softer. Devastation pierces through it, through you. She’s gone. Tess is gone. 

“Darlin’...” Joel puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, and fury sparks through you. 

“You did this!” you scream, hitting his chest again, and again and again. “You took away my choice!” Because the truth is, you would sooner have died in there with Tess than carry on without her. “You took away my fucking sister!” Because he’d gotten her into the jobs, the smuggling. He’d done all of this. 

Joel doesn’t react, barely even budging as you slam into him. His jaw is set, trembling, throat bobbing, and finally he catches your hands and locks his fingers around your wrists. “Look at me.” 

You can’t. You can’t look at him, or anywhere else. You want to vomit. You want to disappear. 

Instead, your chin wobbles and your ribcage opens up and everything pours out of you as you wail. 

He catches you as you sink to the ground, pulling you to his chest, and you’re too weak to push him away now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was nothing else we could do. Nothing else I could do. But look at me. Please look at me.” He grips your jaw just as Tess had, and you flinch. You hate him. You fist his shirt between your fingers and you want to destroy it, destroy everything around him. 

Except you don’t. He’s all you have left, and the realisation makes you numb. Joel fucking Miller is the only goddamn person you have. 

You do as he asks. You look at him. 

“She bought us time," he says. "We can’t waste it now. Do you understand? We can grieve her later, but right now, we gotta go. We have to get up and keep going. For Tess.”

You hate that he’s right most of all. As you begin to shut down, shock taking over, you look back at the smoking State House and stand. And then you clutch Joel’s collar and bare your teeth. 

Ellie stumbles towards you, eyes round with fear, but you’ve lost the will to care about her presence. You’ve lost everything today.

“Don’t you fucking say her name again,” you snap. “You lost that right. I blame you. I blame you for who she became, who we’ve all become.”

Anguish curls across Joel’s features, but you refuse to feel guilty. You let him go roughly and grab your backpack off the floor, the same one you’d clutched during the outbreak just after you’d watched your parents get savaged by your infected neighbours, Tess dragging you to safety. You’d been thirteen years old, and your sister had gotten you through hell and back, that night and every other one that came after. 

“It shouldn’t have ended like this,” you whisper into the wind, swallowing your own tears. 

It’s the last moment you allow yourself to have, and then you wipe your damp cheeks and glare down at Joel again. 

“Get up. Let’s go.”

He does, looking winded as he rises from his knees to his feet. You allow him to lead the way only because he knows the city, knows his way around, far better than you did. Tess rarely let you do jobs out of the QZ, protective until the bitter fucking end. 

You wish more than anything you could have protected her. 

***

You don’t get the chance to catch your breath again until you get to Bill and Frank’s — which is empty. You never met them yourself, but you know Tess warmed to them, so to find them dead too… it feels like the last piece of good in the world is truly gone. You slump onto their couch still wrapped in numbness as Joel and Ellie gather supplies, reluctant to so much as look at you. Later, you hear them talking about showering, and Ellie thumps up the stairs, leaving the place quiet. You should wash, too. You should eat, drink, prepare for whatever comes next, but you can’t move. Can’t do anything. 

After minutes, or perhaps hours, of silence, Joel kneels in front of you with a plate of food. “You need to eat, darlin'. I know it’s hard, but you have to.”

You hate him calling you that. He never used to call you that. He barely addressed you at all, stubborn, grumpy old man he is. But he’s been family for a long time, and the three of you… 

You got by together. Until now. 

You glance down at the food and your stomach turns. 

“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. It surprises you, that vulnerability bleeding into his words — and it seems to surprise him too, by the look on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Not once. 

You take a bite for that alone. It’s dry in your mouth, and you find it hard to swallow, so you push the rest away. He sighs and puts it down on the coffee table, swapping the plate for his flask. You take a swig, whiskey burning like vinegar in your throat. 

“If I talk,” he asks, “will you listen?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “No, I don’t feel much like listenin’, Joel.”

Still, he takes your hand. You glare at your intertwined fingers but make no move to pull away. Perhaps part of you still needs to be coddled, taken care of the way Tess might have.

And maybe you need to know you’re not alone. That he isn’t going to give up on you the way he so easily did with Tess. Which is sick, you know, but you’ve never much been able to help the way you feel about him. The way you have always wanted to peel away his layers and understand him. Tear away his self-hatred, guilt, grief, for whatever horrors he faced before. 

“I didn’t want this. Not for Tess and sure as hell not for you.”

“I told you,” you bit. “I told you not to say her name.”

“I made a promise to her a long time ago.” He continued as though you hadn’t spoken, his brown eyes pleading. “I promised that if something happened to her, I would always protect you. That’s what I did today. I was honouring that promise, and honouring your sister. If you need someone to blame, someone to hate, if that makes it easier, go ahead. But don’t think for a second that this was a choice I wanted to make. I cared about her. I care about you. And even if I have to drag you kickin’ and screamin’, I’m getting you to Wyoming, to Tommy. You and I still have a job to do.” Slowly, as though unsure how you’ll react, he tucks your hair behind your ear. “That kid needs us, but we need her a hell of a lot more if the cure is real. And I… I need you. I need you here with me, safe. I ain’t losing another…”

He bows his head, words thickening.  “I ain’t going back on my promise to Tess, so you can make it difficult as you like. You can never lay your damn eyes on me again. But I’m getting you through this.”

A tear drips down your cheek, your entire body trembling as the sorrow, the grief, finally takes over. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel whispers, voice full of the same loss, the same pain. 

A whimper escapes you as you put your head in your hands. You can’t even hate him now, because you can imagine your martyr of a sister asking Joel to do just that. To protect you above all else. Still, you despise it — despise that your choices were taken away, your voice ignored. 

“I should have been with her,” you say. “She shouldn’t have died alone.”

“She died knowing you were being taken care of.” He squeezes your knee with rough hands. “She died knowing she saved us. It’s the best anyone could’a done. I wish it could have been different.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” you admit, because how can you keep it all in? All the love you had for her, all that grief… where will you put it when it’s spilling out of you without warning? 

“That’s something we’ll figure out,” Joel responds. He’s drawing circles into your lower thigh now, the pad of his thumb wearing down your denim jeans slowly. Wearing you down slowly. “You should take a shower then see about finishing your food. That hot water… it’ll help. And I won’t be mad if you use it all before I get my turn.” He offers you a small smile.

But you can’t imagine anything ever helping. You close your eyes, sinking back into the couch. “In a minute. I just need…” You don’t know what you need. If you’re being honest, you need Tess. 

As though knowing it, Joel rises, the couch cushions dipping with his weight beside you. He lets out a soft sigh, fidgeting with his fingers. You feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face. 

A moment later, he’s draping a blanket over you, and your lids flutter open again in confusion. 

“S’okay,” Joel says. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. But when you try to nod off, you only see Tess burned on the inside of your eyelids. Her face the last time you saw it. The bite. Her pleas for you to go.

You give up quickly, aware Joel is still beside you, unmoving. It isn’t like him to not be moving. 

Rubbing your face, you sit up, pushing the blanket off. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Blaming you... it doesn't make it fucking easier. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don’t like it. But if you ever take away my choice again… I won’t go on with you. I can’t. I know you and Tess still see me… saw me,” you correct with a wince, “as a kid, but I’m not. Not anymore. And I sure as hell ain’t your responsibility.”

“I don’t see you as a kid,” he says quietly. “And I don’t see you as my responsibility, either. Honestly?” He purses his lips, tapping on the arm of the couch before he continues, “I see you as the only damn thing worth going out of my way to protect. Make of that what you will. Just… don’t expect me to let you die if that’s your choice. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I won’t apologise for it, either.”

You’re not sure what to say to that; what it means. Why Joel, of all people, is the one to say it. You always thought he and Tess… 

“Why? That promise mean so fucking much?”

“Yeah." He looks at you as though for the first time. "Yeah, it does."

You don’t have the energy to wonder what it means anymore. Instead, you pull yourself up on unsteady feet. Your mind is racing, and that shower is sounding better as reality sets in. Just in time, Ellie returns with damp hair and fresh clothes. She offers a small, reassuring smile, and you ruffle her hair, feeling guilty that a fourteen-year-old was subjected to everything you went through in Boston. Whoever she is, whatever purpose people want her to serve… she’s just a kid, and you couldn’t hold it together for her today. That makes you a shitty chaperone.

“My turn,” you mumble, glancing at Joel a final, wary time before heading upstairs. His expression doesn’t change, but you see something new in it now. Something strange. 

Something that looks an awful lot like care.

[lookingfts]

I couldn't resist, here's a part 2 to the glasses drabble.

Don’t take them off. She’s on her back on her mattress, Anthony tucked between her thighs, his hair mussed from how desperately they had kissed on the way into her flat. Kate wants to keep her calm, wants to get off and kick him out before he can say something to ruin it, but her skin is on fire and she’s so slick, embarrassingly so, knows it from the way Anthony’s jaw drops a little.

Don’t worry, he says in a throaty voice that makes her shudder. I want to see you.

The glasses bump against her thigh as he licks into her and it really should not be so fucking hot but she drags her nails against his scalp as her other hand clutches at the headboard. And he’s good, fuck he’s good, taking her apart with his tongue and his fingers and his moans like he’s the one being pleasured. His noises are obscene and should be illegal, and she’s never been with anyone nearly as vocal, wonders if he’s always this loud or if it’s just her.

And oh, that’s dangerous. To think that maybe she’s special.

Better not to think. Better to throw herself into the sensations as he works her open and sucks her clit and tells her to come and she does, all over his face, entirely powerless but to obey.

He kisses his way back up her body, leaving traces of her arousal everywhere in the shape of his mouth, until he meets her lips again and gives her a taste. Kate feels delirious. Far from curing her desire, falling into bed with Anthony is only serving to make the craving a thousand times more intense.

Kate, we don’t have to-

Don’t stop, she urges, sounding too needy to her own ears. It’s too much, I can’t-.

Anthony shushes her, and it should sound patronizing but it helps her breathe. I know. I know, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart. Just let me-

She can’t look away as he slides into her, hot and thick, his eyes wide behind the glasses like this is a revelation for him, too. The voice that tells her you’re not special gets a little quieter, diminished by the sheer awe in his expression. Surely he doesn’t treat every sexual encounter like it’s something sacred.

As it turns out, she’s not wrong. It’s the best shag of her life by an unfortunate margin, even with the slight fumbling to learn each other’s bodies, even with the trial and error as Anthony searches for the spots that make her gasp, sigh, moan, cry out. He finds them all, and a few she didn’t even know existed.

The only thing she can really do in return is clutch at his shoulders, his back, his arse and kiss him sloppily. He fucks her harder when she whimpers his name, and she does it again and again until her throat is raw.

Kate comes once, twice, before Anthony buries his face in her neck and groans. His glasses finally fall off, lost in the sheets, as he empties himself into the condom.

Neither of them says anything for a few long moments. Anthony gently withdraws from her and fixes his glasses, laying on his side and propping his head on his hand. The other strokes her side in aimless patterns, goosebumps breaking out across her skin at his feathering touch.

Fuck, she has no idea what to say. Thanks for the incredible sex, see you at brunch next month and we’ll pretend like this never happened? Try not to judge me for my taste in men?

“I can hear you thinking,” he says finally, his hand going flat over her stomach. It’s telling, she thinks, that she doesn’t rush to cover herself up. That she allows him this small intimacy.

“Yeah?” Kate says a little snarkily, her head still spinning. “What am I thinking?”

Anthony sighs, looking at her seriously. “You’re wondering if this was a moment of insanity.”

She snorts derisively. “No, it was definitely that.”

With a grip on her waist, he rolls her to the side and kisses her. For all that they’re naked, it’s not sexual. It’s slow, deliberate, like he’s trying to make a point. “Every moment since I met you has been a moment of insanity,” he says when he pulls away. “I wasn’t kidding, Kate. I would wear these glasses every damn day if it would just- if it made you want me.”

Kate doesn’t know what to do with that. They tease and they dig and they flirt in their own fucked up way, but Anthony sounds tired and earnest and she realizes there’s no going back to what they were. He doesn’t want to do it anymore.

Does she?

“Want you how?” she asks quietly, forcing herself to look at him. They’re adults – they might not always act like it, but he deserves an honest conversation. “What do you want from me?”

His eyes roam her face, and the corner of his mouth ticks up a little. “Sometimes I think you’re purposefully dense,” Anthony says, and it’s almost familiar, him winding her up. She braces herself for him to say – she doesn’t even know anymore. She feels entirely adrift, at the mercy of his next words. “I want you, Kate. Only you. Haven’t you noticed there hasn’t been anyone else in the last eight months?”

Kate wracks her brain, trying to think of the last time she actually saw Anthony flirting with another woman. All she can recall is his attention on her – his eyes on her across a crowded room; his hands on her hips as he asks her to dance with him; his gleeful teasing, like a boy trying to get a rise out of her on the playground.

She wonders what, exactly, she’s been running away from all this time.

Anthony kisses her again, a little more heated, and rolls her onto her back as he settles between her thighs. She goes willingly as he urges her arms up by her head and intertwines their fingers, hovering over her. Kate feels so overwhelmed by the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath, those fucking glasses.

“Give me a chance,” he murmurs, bumping her jaw with his nose as she melts beneath him. “I want you in my bed, Kate. I want to make you feel good. Every night. I want to take you to dinner and call you my girlfriend. I want all of you, all the fucking time. Say yes.”

He’s not playing fair – she’s so wet, so desperate for him that she’s liable to agree to anything. Maybe he knows that. He does seem to know her better than she’s ever been willing to admit.

“On one condition,” Kate says breathlessly, and Anthony lifts his head to meet her eyes, nodding. “You don’t have to wear the glasses every day, but I do insist on them at least once a week.”

His answering grin is bright and broad, and holy fucking shit is he handsome when he smiles. “I knew it was the glasses,” he says, right back to being smug. He’ll be even more unbearable now.

“It was the glasses,” she agrees, dropping her voice seductively. “I was on the fence about whether I was attracted to you, but the glasses just really sent you over-.”

Anthony tackles her into the mattress, kissing her firmly as she laughs against his mouth, and the sudden lightness in Kate’s chest tells her that she has nothing to regret.

[mentallhealthmatters]

Probably late but... (Long rant ahead)

https://www.tumblr.com/mentallhealthmatters/766237584051552256/like-fuck-you-shelby-this-guy-had-a-buuunch-of

“This is a 'I don't trust you guys, you weren't my friends,' move. This is 'you guys supported her, even quietly,' this is 'yeah no one fucking talked to him to hear his side of the story' move.”

Oh I have my thoughts and opinions on this and of people wishing or hoping that Wilbur still has friends or is still friends with those that used to be on that friend list. (the MCYT/Streamer Sphere) They are just setting themselves up for nothing but disappointment.

It wouldn't surprise me if everyone from the MC community - even those closest to him - abandoned him, in fact, I'm expecting it. Tommy private/unlisted his Wilbur Return “If I annoy Wil” VOD and even one or more of his YouTube videos that featured Wilbur (Like the Sims one). Philza unfollowed him everywhere, removed everything from his Twitch that even hinted at Wilbur, and he might be modding for Shelby (not 100% sure about that). Hell, he also probably got rid of some videos on his YouTube channel. Molly (Tommy's girlfriend) streamed with Lexie. (I think this was after the allegations) And isn't Lexie an ableist, claiming to be a victim of narcissistic abuse, which I hope she is able to heal but claiming all those with NPD are inherently corrupt or abusers because of a disorder they didn't ask for is just wrong. 

Sidenote/Mini-Rant: Saying "People with NPD will never get better because they lie to their therapists.” Is just so toxic and ableist in my opinion. 1) While NPD can’t be cured, it can be treated, and saying those with NPD will never get better discourages them from seeking those treatments. 2) Only a medical professional, psychiatrist, psychologist, or an expert on NPD can make a diagnosis, not Twitch streamers. 3) NPD and other similar disorders are extremely stigmatized and doing this is just going to make it harder for people with those disorders.

Not to mention all the ones who jumped on the hate bandwagon to throw in their two cents or those who just bashed him, Minx and Billzo for example jumping on the bandwagon: Minx was at a party at his house, saw him and Shelby(?) arguing, tried to insert herself - got denied - then later when Wilbur was heading to the bathroom because he drank too much. She followed him into the bathroom to hold his hair back (never mind that his hair is too short to be held back) Wilbur being drunk, assumed she was trying to harm him, got angry at her, and told her to leave, calmed down, and apologize and said she didn't have to leave, yet she chose to leave anyway. But according to Minx, he’s still somehow the bad guy because he got angry thinking she was trying to hurt him while drunk, she isn't a victim of anything. Billzo handcuffed Wilbur without his consent or permission to a railing(?) as a joke and threw the keys away. Then Wilbur tells or asks him to let him go making it very clear that he didn’t want this nor find the "joke" funny, only for Billzo to inform him that they don’t have the keys and set the cuffs to the tightest setting while Wil’s panicking. So of course this makes Wil panic more til he yells at Bill to find the keys. And somehow people are making Wilbur the bad guy because he yelled, while Bill was the one who restrained him, put the cuffs as tightly as possible, and laughed at him. Wilbur had every right to yell at him! (I would have) And Wilbur apologized to Bill for yelling at him!

And the others, many of whom admitted themselves that they weren't close to or knew Wilbur all that well like Aimsey, Tubbo, Harry, and Max (Didn’t Will need to be reminded by Tommy who Max was at one point?) all of which were very fast to condemn and attack Wilbur but when Beau came out about her story about being kissed without consent (might be more to that) by Snikrep, someone a majority of them hang out with, suddenly they're distancing and excusing themselves. Didn’t Aimsey make a statement on Twt saying she didn’t associate with the guy, only for a recent photo to drop that had both of them hanging out together in it, and then she deleted her statement on Twitter? Weren't Harry or Max (or both) caught on a previous stream where they were making fun/jokes about Beau and her story/situation? Isn't Harry friends with KitWisp and Snikrep who have also been accused of domestic abuse and sexual assault? I’m unaware if anything happened to them. (I think Snikrep is still editing for Tommy) It shows how performative and self-centered their activism and support for victims is. (Correct me if any of the above info is wrong or if you have more to add. I'm recalling all this from memory.)

Hypocrites, they’re hypocrites. “With friends like these, who need enemies" is a saying for a reason. 

I highly doubt he will even glance in Minecraft’s direction or touch it with a 50-foot pole because of all those people previously mentioned, even if he still likes the game itself. 

Wilbur deserves better. Better friends and better people to spend his time with. He needs people who will help him improve, not drop him as soon as the public deems it or when it's not profitable. I believe that it’s best he's gotten rid of all his MCYT "friends" as well. If all of them were willing to use his downfall to boost their reputations and careers, then he's so much better without them. He has worth outside of them and deserves more than them as much as I miss his friendship and dynamic with them. (SBI my beloved)

Besides, Wilbur being in a niche-y band with a small music channel on the side suits him more than being a Minecraft content creator. I say this as someone who found him via his Minecraft content and enjoyed it more than his band. (I like his band/songs, I just enjoyed his content more)

Plus Wilbur's biting habit is fixable, it can be helped. It's not something he kept secret, everyone knew about his biting habit and knew it was something he had done for years. I know change can be challenging, and be a long, slow, and difficult process. But what matters is that he keeps trying! That looks to be what he’s trying to do, with his last post on Twt, with him going to therapy and changing his lifestyle a bit. It's hard to stop a long-term issue or habit that started in childhood, like his biting habit (Old habits die hard) but none of them seem willing to try and help him change or improve himself. You should at least try, you'll probably get kicked and scratched in the process but that's what friends do: try to help each other. (Keyword: TRY. Don't keep burning yourself at both ends of the candle for someone who is unwilling to change. But Wilbur seems to be trying/willing.)

Even if Wilbur and some of his old friends somehow reunite or reconnect sometime down the line, if they can make amends, and rebuild the bridges burnt, those bridges aren't going to be what they were previously. They could only - at most - look similar but never be the same.

Only bridge id encourage being rebuilt is Quackity. *fuck* everyone else. But thats less i care about wilbur and have deemed Quackity to be the only one worth redeeming, but Wilbur is a crucial key to things id like to see from Quackity in upcoming plots and plans, and shelby burned that bridge. The story can still be told, but a name would have been omitted and i rather it not be.

[vesuvianhermitcrabs]

The Arcana M6 When MC Is Crunchy

For context, MC can crack every joint in their body (knuckles, back, knees, hips, the whole shebang) and one day they just get on all fours before twisting and bending and making this horrific cracking crunching bone noise right in front of their terrified LI

(This is extremely self servient)

Asra

In all fairness, they already knew. Does that mean they're used to it? It's complicated

You were gone for a long enough time that he forgot what it was like to live with a human sheet of bubble wrap

The first time he heard your crunching after they brought you back, happy tears flooded his eyes, because it was such a you thing, if that makes sense

They're a little sad they can't do it too, though

Of all the LIs, he's absolutely the least disturbed, and at the end of the day, he thinks it's pretty sick

Nadia

Oh dear. That's not right

More concerned than anything, immediately takes you to the court physician to figure out just what's wrong with you

You will be rushed there as quickly as possible before you even realize what's wrong or have the opportunity to say anything

When you gently explain to her that you're just built a little strangely she'll just sit there and stare at you, dumbfounded

Then she'll throw her head back and let out a relieved, hearty laugh

You see a shiver go up her spine every time you do the crunch ritual though (she's trying really hard to be supportive)

Julian

Holy shit. Him too.

Imagine all the mischief you two could get up to! Crawling out from beneath the bar tables and scaring the shit out of everyone in the joint (pun intended) with your full-body crunches? If you're down he's down is all he's saying–

He's mostly sure that it's not bad for you or anything. Probably. Actually he never really cared to check, seeing as he's lacking a little in the self-care department

Mazelinka can sense when it's about to happen and gives you the most soul devouring glare whenever either of you is about to crunch

Portia

She's devastated.

Growing up, Julian could always do that, and you know what? She was always really jealous. She cannot physically pop one joint in her whole entire being

And she hates it with a passion

She doesn't hate you, of course... but she will work until she inevitably burns out trying to distract herself from you and her brother's shared ability

She comes home one day, declaring that she's come to terms with not being able to do it as well, but she is glad that you and Julian have something in common. You're glad she's happy, even though it's been three weeks since the crackening

This will make for great teasing material in the future if you're willing to utilize it

Muriel

He does posess the ability to crack his knuckles and neck, but anything beyond that is a little much

The first time he saw/heard your full body crunches it was on the trip with Morga, who stood next to him, watching in morbid fascination

His right hand flew up over his mouth and he started towards you like he thought he should help, before stepping back. He realized he has no idea how to help you and waited it out in horror

Now the joint cracking just puts the fear of god into him a little bit

He has SO many questions (he'll never ask but he definitely has them)

He still loves and accepts you, no matter what quirks or flaws you have (but seriously though what the heck)

Lucio

MC what are you doing...?

OH GOD.

He hates it. The sound makes his skin crawl and he thinks there's something wrong with you, no matter how many times you explain to him that you're okay

...but he's not going to give up on you. He goes to dozens of "medical professionals" to try and find some sort of miracle cure to fix you (your poor wallet lol)

Still brags about it to random people for no reason, even though he seriously, genuinely, honestly, truly DESPISES the crunch

Morga thinks it's great

Btw just thought I should clarify, these full body joint crunches are genuinely horrific, which is why the M6 had such strong reactions 😭😭

Imagine bending into horrible knotted shapes while the loudest most eardrum shattering crunches come from you, for an extended period of time if that helps 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[arinzu]

Final!!!

Part 1, part 2

🪐Today 4ever to last for eternity 🪐

~Once again this might not be accurate!

Summary :

You and Rin are the last students in whole the school after the apocalypse... The whole of Japan is infected with this deadly disease. You guys must not get infected before the cure is discovered.

Rin and reader are not alone in this adventure, angst, New characters in the story will appear!

Multiple chapters!

"Itoshi the food in the canteen is running out..." You whisper holding on to the last box of nutrients the room had left, it's been a few months of this torture you and Rin were the only survivers until now.

"Fuck... I don't think the other canteen has enough food for us" he reply back to you holding a piece of furniture blocking the entrance door to the cafeteria.

"It's better for us to go than stay here any longer" You look outside the window box still at hand. "We don't wanna leave any clue for those things to use" you nodded to Rin as he says that

You remember just a few months before hiding from those things, you had a couple of people alive with you and Rin. Your best friend, her boyfriend that was one of the few popular athletes like Rin, and the quiet kid.

Akemi the quiet kid was the first to die in your group... she died from lack of food since she was secretly starving herself to save food for the others. Next was all of the other athletes... They were fighting the crowd of zombie-like creatures for you guys to escape the classroom to find more food.

Your bestie was heartbroken to the point she became depressed, you weren't surprised since her lover just died. But still tried your best to help you bff to cheer her up.

Next was sadly your best friend... The zombie manages to weaken the walls in the room/ library you guys were sleeping in, to then kick or well... Break the wall down. They ambush you and the 2 other members still at midnight, as you were about to get attacked. Your bestie managed to get that zombie's attention by throwing books at that creature and lured them outside.

To then run in the crowd of zombies never to be seen alive EVER again, as you were about to cry from your lost Rin forcefully grab your arm and dash to the exit while the zombies were still distracted.

Those creatures are not fully zombies... They still have a mind of their own yet still looks like zombies. They can use anything to find human flesh.

They adapt well...

You promise to stay alive for the people who sacrifice themselves for your well-being.

"Hey Itoshi let's camp at the seniors library... They're much more books than the last library we went to" you suggested as you start packing the box of food needed in your school backpack.

He nodded as he start to pack the remaining food supplies in his own bag... And that's where you and him set out to go to the next destination.

It surprisingly took such a few short minutes to get there it was quite peaceful other than rin killing those creatures...

As you both stand outside the library to find more about these creatures, you notice something on the gigantic door, upon closer inspection it was a sticky note used to remind people of their individual tasks made by the council club.

As you read it mentally you get surprised since the handwriting was your best friend and IS your bestie...

"So, Are we still camping here?" Rin asked and you almost fell back in surprise, 'geez... I forgot he was still here' you think to yourself, and mentally note to find something in the public library.

You shake your head in disagreement to rin's question as you head to the main gate of the school.

Rin followed you as he started killing those creatures once again that tried to attack.

...

You both arrived at the main gate of the school, streets crawling with those mysterious creatures... Almost one spotted you but Rin killed it almost instantly as it spotted you.

As you took rin's appearance, he was quite charming even with all of those bloody fluids covering his school uniform. Now you know why girls fuss over him every time they see him walking through the hallways.

"Huh whatcha staring at...?" Rin asked as he caught you staring at him

"Oh well... Just admiring how you look" you replied feeling embarrassed from your action.

Rin stayed silent before adding another question.

"How did that note get there? I mean... Your so called best friend surely died before ever reaching the seniors library"

'Hm... That's easy to answer' you note to yourself as you start answering.

"Well before we all actually teamed up... We were both in a different group than you, it was composed of all of our classmates and a council member" you paused before adding

"me and her were tasked exploring different areas of the school to find something that can help by the council member"

"That doesn't explain how?"

"itoshi I know your lacking in your subjects... But how can you not piece it together?"

"No need to be rude..."

"My bad itoshi... She explored the west where the seniors library is to be specific while I explored the north, And that's where she discovered nothing or that's what the note told us"

"Oh."

"After our time was up exploring, we headed back to the camp our classmates made. And I saw a bloody entrance... And multiple dead bodies and my bestie running towards me"

"And...?"

"I grab her by the arm-"

"Why?"

"Stop it you're annoying me"

"that the purpose (reader)"

"Ugh... I grab her and start running away since she was deathly afraid of those kinds of things"

"lukewarm"

"Woah itoshi that is extremely rude"

"And that's where I ran into you and your bloody mess"

"That's why your so traumatized, when I first saw you both?"

You nodded in approval as you stared outside the gate filled with these zombies? You don't know anymore.

Rin sensing it's time to stop pushing the story any further.

to be continued...

AHHH TYSM FOR READING💗💗💗

Forgot to add! Reader check the seniors library since 'bestie' might not have checked it yet! After all it was the west and not only the library!!!

[separatist-apologist]

We Could Call It Even

Summary: Newly made and terrified, Elain Archeron's human fiance tells her of a creature that could turn her back and keep them together and Elain will stop at nothing to make rumor a reality.

There is no force that can undo fate. No magic that can unmake a mating bond. And Lucien Vanserra isn't about to let his mate throw herself in the path of certain death on a fools hope. Lucien will be forced, instead, to watch her love another man for eighty brutal, miserable years.

While Elain Archeron will have to contend with a life she hoped to never live…and a mate she never wanted.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

It was another miserable party. Once, Elain had ruled these sorts of social gatherings but now she was relegated to the corner. Ever the dutiful hostess, she tried to make small talk, but everyone was uncomfortable in her presence. 

It had been ten years. She’d thought they’d all be over it by now, realizing that she was a good one. They could trust her. Oh, they’d be perfectly polite but she saw the dread in their eyes when she approached and caught the little jabs they made, dressed up like a compliment.

Oh you just never age, do you, one guest said when Elain welcomed her in.

I wish I’d been unburdened with children, too—I’d have glowing skin, too.

All men wish for a wife that looks hardly older than a girl. 

Alright, then. Elain was used to this song and dance. She smiled and laughed along though each jab wounded her. Graysen was allowed in their circles because he was still one of them, though an anomaly. They thought he simply couldn’t help himself given Elain was forever young, forever beautiful. 

But she was an outsider. She couldn’t give him children though she’d tried—she suspected they might be incompatible. And so, she’d thrown herself into married life until she was an exemplary wife. She never argued with him, even when she wanted to scream and scream and scream. Elain didn’t cry, she didn’t plead, she didn’t beg. She woke before the sun to groom herself so when he woke, she was pleasing to look at.

She arranged the household just as he liked it, ensured all his favorite meals were prepared on a rotation, and saw to the chores so there was never even a whisper of dust even in the highest ceiling corners. Their garden won awards, and she grew her own produce and fruit, though that was personal for Elain. Feyre had tried to write a few letters before she came to visit, and though Feyre had never said one unkind word to Elain, her guilt had begun to trail after her like a specter. 

For the first five years of their marriage, everything had been perfect…except Gray’s single-minded obsession with finding a cure for Elain’s faerie aliment, as he often called it. Once it became clear that there was no cure—none that would spare her life, anyway—he’d simply dropped it. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

But he was distant at times. Cold, too, when the mood struck him. Especially after his father died and he inherited all the titles and lands his father had once held. He was busy, she told herself. He had to think about more than just himself, now.

But it was more than that. Elain suspected he regretted his choices. That maybe love hadn’t been enough for him. He’d never admit it and thus admit he’d made the wrong decision. Especially not when the local circle of lords and ladies were such vipers. 

But Gray was across the room with a glass of whiskey in his hand, pointedly not looking at her. He’d stay there until he was just drunk enough he didn’t mind if everyone saw them dance. Elain wasn’t in the mood for any of it that night. Sometimes she was so angry she had to bite down so hard that blood filled her mouth as her teeth ground together. Her nails would bite into her palm, bruising her skin as she tried to contain it all.

And then it would pass, and Elain would go back to trying. If she could just figure out the right combination of words and outfits and parties, everyone would see she was still the same Elain and treat her as such. Gray would go back to bright smiles and little touches. Life would feel normal.

He glanced over at her, a hint of gray in his brown hair catching in the overhead lights. The lines around his mouth seemed more pronounced right then, eyes crinkled just at the corners. No longer was he the young twenty something, and though he was hardly old, he was aging.

It alarmed her. 

While Graysen sought to undo the faerie, Elain privately tried to come up with some way to make him like her. Immortal and unaging, so they could have centuries rather than just a few short decades that were already slipping through her fingers. Elain poured through books when she couldn’t sleep, but the only cases of it that weren’t rooted in so many layers of mythology they were, functionally, useless to her, belonged to her and her sisters.

And Miryam, too. 

If Elain had undertaken that journey, she might have learned more. Sometimes she thought about trying again, certain Lucien was long gone by then. But Elain was too afraid to leave–what if she came back and the gates were barred to her, too? What if he realized he’d made a mistake?

Elain had become a shut-in.

Still holding Graysen’s gaze, she offered him a pretty, demure smile that seemed to thaw whatever ice coated his gaze. He made his way to her, sliding a hand over her waist. It was like nothing had changed between them. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said. The smell of whiskey hit Elain and she realized, too late, he was drunker than she’d thought. Maybe it didn’t matter. While other husbands got meaner when they were drunk, hers was sweeter. She almost always preferred him this way. 

“We should try again,” he whispered, breath warm against her ear. Elain’s heart quickened at his words. Try for a child, he meant—every so often, the urge would overcome him and Graysen would think of nothing else but children for six straight months. He’d be on her day and night, but nothing ever came of it.

Elain couldn’t quite bear the disappointment. “Of course,” she agreed, knowing it would end the same. She was a glutton for punishment. In the bedroom, with the lights out and his mouth on her, it almost felt like adoration. Almost felt like the same love they’d had before the cauldron. He was never unkind or cruel, but he could be careless. And as time progressed with no child, he became shorter and shorter with his touches until all that seemed to matter was his deposit in her body.

She still cherished every moment until he inevitably grew tired of the whole thing and quit altogether. If he wanted to try, Elain would let him. Graysen grinned, clearly pleased. Whether it was the alcohol or something else that convinced him this would be the time, she didn’t know. Only that he swept her into a dance, smiling like old times. 

And she was in love all over again.

Those moments of happiness were fragmented between longer stretches of tense cohabitation. 

“Do you regret me?” she heard herself asking him one morning as she pinned her hair up off her face. Graysen’s was lined with age, his mouth a sharp slash against his once beautiful features. 

He sighed, exasperated. “This again? Why do you continue to ask me questions you know the answer to?” “You seem unhappy,” Elain heard herself saying. 

“It’s merely been thirty years, my darling,” Graysen said in response, pressing a perfunctory kiss to the top of her head. “All couples become distant.”

“Do they?” she questioned. She wouldn’t know given how isolated she was. Elain was too ashamed to ask Feyre how she was faring with the faerie she’d settled down with. Privately, Elain hoped her sister was just as troubled. It was simply a rough patch, she told herself. Graysen was fifty and managing not just their estate, but the vassal lands that stretched beyond.

And when one of the queens came calling on him, installing him at court for half the year, Elain found herself even more alone. Graysen returned in the winter each year while his letters became more infrequent.

There were rumors he’d taken a lover, though she had no proof of that. Elain didn’t dare ask him, either, for fear of shattering the life she’d built. She’d staked everything on the love she and Graysen had, and as the years stretched before her, lonely and bleak, Elain was forced to ask herself if she regretted her choice.

Would they always have ended up like this? Was their breakdown inevitable? Or had she been a fool holding on to him when it would have been better to let him go? There was no cure for old age—no cauldron to dip Graysen into, not council of High Lords willing to imbue him with their magic. 

“You are still so, so beautiful,” Graysen told her one evening, well into his eightieth year. He’d sat up suddenly in the middle of the night, candle lit as he peered down at her. “I wouldn’t hold it against you if you left.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Elain told him, biting back a soft sob. The romance had never died for her. In her mind, she was his mirror. Her once youthful face lined with age, her hair the same silvery gray. Graysen walked slower and a hunch had begun to form. He traveled less to the capital and spent more time at their estate where he took his correspondence, his visitors, and everything else. 

Little had changed in nearly a century—the humans were still wary of her, despite how easily Elain mimicked their movements. Her magic lay dormant, not bothering her since the last time she’d been in Prythian. She’d become adept at hiding her pointed ears inside her hair while making sure she kept up with the ever changing fashions. 

She’d settled into her graceful body and made sure to sway with she stood or fidget when she sat—otherwise she was too still, which put everyone else on edge. 

As Graysen began to decline, the vultures circled. Women couldn’t inherit and Elain had no children that might keep Graysen’s estate in her hands. She heard the men talking, vaguely related to Graysen by blood or marriage, urging him to protect his family rather than the immortal wife he’d been burdened with. She’d live forever, they told him. By the time Elain died, there might not be any Nolan’s left to take the estate.

Elain knew if he left her nothing, she’d have to go crawling back to Feyre. Or worse. 

She might be forced to rely on Lucien. 

She’d heard nothing from either of them since she’d chosen to leave, and truthfully, Elain never thought of either of them. Not until those final years, when Graysen was laid up in bed with a persistent cough that only grew worse. She was the only one who stayed—even the physician’s were chased off, afraid of bringing something home to their own families.

Fever took him in the night, and the smell of death told Elain he was nearly gone. Clutching her hand, Graysen stared upward, mumbling things that didn’t make any sense to her. She shushed him.

“Elain,” he whispered through cracked, dry lips. “It was all a waste, wasn’t it? A wasted life.”

Elain’s heart sank. “Of course it wasn’t,” she replied, smoothing her hand over his brow. “Every moment was perfect.” “A waste,” he whispered, slipping into sleep.

He didn’t wake up.

The following weeks were a blur. Elain arranged everything from money she had no right to touch—she later learned Graysen had left her only five hundred gold coins a year, to be paid out by a distant cousin who now oversaw the estate. She’d been given a thousand gold coins for her trouble, and then asked to leave as quickly as she could.

She was promised more, but Elain knew it wasn’t coming. A flurry of laws were likely already in the works to ensure faeries couldn’t inherit human money or property. Graysen was buried in the same plot as the rest of his family, and at his funeral, she wasn’t mentioned at all. It was as if he’d died a bachelor. 

Ninety years, and what did she have to show for it? A thousand gold coins, her collection of dresses, and nothing else. Elain was no better off than she had been when she’d first walked to those doors and begged Graysen to keep her. Staring up at the fortress she’d called a home for so long, she thought of Gray and his final words. 

A wasted life.

He’d died with regrets.

She walked back into Prythian, well aware that to stay among the humans was to risk death. If anything, humans had grown more distrustful of the fae since that final war, and there were those in Graysen’s life that would have relished to see her die, too. 

The first step back into faerie held territory was pure agony. Elain screamed out, crumpling to the ground as her vision went black. Images raced behind her eyes in a flurry too quick for her to process. She didn’t know how long she knelt there, sobbing through her ragged breath.

She’d convinced herself it had simply left her. That the magic that had once infested her had left for a more willing occupant, freeing Elain of that torment, at least. It seemed not, and when she realized that she was still stuck in her faerie form, Elain vomited until her stomach was emptied of even bile. 

She couldn’t sleep out there, though it was tempting to curl up in the dirt and lay there until the forest took her. Elain doubted that would kill her. She was starting to think nothing would. When she stood, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby creek and let out another pained sob.

She hated that face. 

Elain walked numbly until she reached the edge of Prythian, coming out of the woods into Spring. She expected there to be no one there, but on the edge stood a familiar looking woman and just behind, one of Feyre’s winged males. 

Nesta was there, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was braided in a crown around her head, ears pointed and obvious. Steely, gray eyes pinned themselves to Elain as Elain stumbled toward her. She’d forgotten the name of the man that was clearly guarding her sister, hazel eyes watchful as though he expected her to do something she shouldn’t.

Elain didn’t even have a weapon on her.

Nesta marched toward her in a violet colored dress so at odds with the fashion Elain had been immersed in for nearly a century. It clung to her sisters frame, the fabric swishing lightly around Nesta’s legs. It seemed so obscene in comparison to her own garments, layered atop each other to give her a very specific shape. 

“I heard the news,” Nesta said by way of greeting. Her voice was unchanged, just like her appearance. Nesta hadn’t aged a day, though there was something different about her. The sharp edges of her sister seemed softer, less blunt. Even her eyes betrayed some of Nesta’s pity, though Elain could see the simmering anger all but smoking off her. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Elain didn’t know what to say, so she simply shrugged her shoulders.

Nesta looked over her shoulder at the man, who nodded with encouragement. 

“Stay with me—with us,” she amended. Elain looked back at the man.

“You’re with him?” she whispered, because surely not. Surely Nesta wouldn’t have married one of them. 

Some of Nesta’s hope slipped into steely regard. “We’re mates.”

“Oh, gods,” Elain mumbled. Were none of them safe? Would fate not free them of the faerie infestation even once? The winged man inched closer, dressed like a warrior while Nesta seemed more like a forest nymph. 

Nesta merely clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Unless you have other arrangements?”

“I…” Elain didn’t. “Where is Feyre?”

“Angry,” Nesta said, never once to mince words. 

“So are you.” She didn’t need the gift of foresight to know that.

“You—” Nesta took a deep inhale through flared nostrils. “You’re grieving and this isn’t the place for this conversation. Come back with us. Please.”

Elain realized she was right back where she’d started. She wanted to turn and run, and she knew Nesta wouldn’t chase her down. Even then, she knew Nesta had swallowed nearly all of her pride to come and wait on Elain.

“Alright.”

“That’s the spirit,” the male all but cheered. Nesta glanced over, some wordless exchange passing between them. It made Elain sick to see. It was simply unfair, a slap in the face. Elain let Nesta winnow her back to Velaris, dropping her in front of a little brick home in the entertainment district. 

“You can have the upstairs bedroom if you want,” Nesta told Elain as they stepped inside. It was spring, she realized—budding flowers had begun to burst through the soggy ground, still sleepy from a long winter. The air was cool and the promise of summer was just on the horizon. She’d forgotten how it all looked, how it felt—somehow Prythian was brighter, livelier, more wondrous than behind the boundary line where the wall had once stood. 

Inside, the house was well lived in. Books covered the full wall when Elain first came in, with more stacked up on a glass coffee table in front of dark furniture. A basket of blankets sat beside an unlit fireplace leading into a dining room and then kitchen. 

Up wide, wooden stairs were three bedrooms, the walls between holding portraits clearly painted by Feyre. There was Nesta in a long, amethyst gown beside the male in a fine black and silver tunic. They were looking at one another against a bright, mountainous backdrop. A wedding portrait, Elain supposed.

Another held Nesta flanked by two other women—one with cinnamon colored hair and bright, teal eyes and the other with dark hair and wings to match the males’s. They were grinning in matching leather armor, swords against their spines, the hilts peeking over slim shoulders, and ribbons tied around their foreheads.

The third, though, was Nesta standing beside a gangly boy with familiar, blue eyes and a shock of onyx hair. He looked just enough like Feyre to tell Elain she was an Aunt.

“That’s Nyx,” Nesta murmured, catching Elain staring. “He’s grown, now.”

“I suppose he would be,” Elain replied, unsure what to say to that. “Is that her only child?”

“For now,” Nesta told her, pushing open a door handle to a room overlooking the river. Her words were heavy with judgment—you’d know this if you hadn’t left—but unlike Gray, Elain had no regrets. It hadn’t been wasted time to her. It had been everything. 

Nesta left Elain in that room, door cracked as if she wanted to give Elain privacy without shutting her out entirely. A conversation was coming—one Elain wasn’t interested in having. Nesta was going to want more than an explanation. She’d want an apology. Contrition. And Elain simply couldn’t give her any of those things. More than that, Elain was alarmed by what had happened since she’d left.

Feyre had a grown son. Nesta was married. When she’d imagined her sisters, she’d often imagined them in similar situations to her own. Especially Nesta, who Elain had never once thought would end up with one of them. How had it happened, she wondered? Had she been forced? Pressured? 

A new, horrible thought occurred to Elain. Where was Lucien? How long before he learned what had happened and came sniffing back around as if nothing had happened? Elain’s heart raced at the thought. If it could happen to Nesta and her iron will, it could happen to Elain. She waited for Nesta to return—and she did, with food and the male who Elain remembered was named Cassian.

He was slated for death—she remembered that, too. Had she ever told him he was going to die? Elain didn’t remember anymore. 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Nesta murmured as Elain pointedly stared out the window, not bothering to acknowledge either of them.

“We’re sorry…ah…” Cassian cleared his throat, obviously nervous. “We’re sorry for your loss.”

Elain didn’t say a word. 

They moved around beneath her, their words muffled by the floorboards. Morning turned to night before the sound of footsteps on the stairs betrayed Cassian and Nesta. They were going to bed and Elain had a small window to dart out before anyone realized she was gone.

It seemed like it took forever for them to fall asleep. Every time Elain would unfold her legs from beneath her, she’d hear Cassian’s quiet voice or Nesta’s feet soft on the landing between their rooms. Heart pounding, Elain would freeze until it got quiet again and begin counting to one thousand in her head.

Eventually, the moon hung high over Velaris and Cassian and Nesta settled. Elain was as quiet as she could manage, cringing when she stepped on a creaky board. Frozen on the steps, she waited for Nesta or Cassian to burst out, filled with accusations. She didn’t remember what kind of magic he had—reading minds, she thought? He’d know her plan, shoddily constructed as it was, immediately. And who knew what would happen to her then?

Admittedly, Elain didn’t really know what she’d do when she got to the docks. Maybe it was her grief-addled brain that caused her to purchase that ticket—or maybe it was the first smart thing she’d done since she’d been turned. Elain wanted—no, needed—to get far away from Prythian.

It wasn’t about being human anymore. That didn’t matter, not with Graysen dead and buried. Her memory had likely been erased in the few hours since she’d been chased out. What would they say about him, she wondered? His reputation would forever be tarnished—he’d been a faerie lover, after all. 

Elain was allowed on the ship long before it ever left port. She’d smiled and the standing officer had blinked, stepped out of her way, and allowed her into her stuffy, private cabin. Beneath the smell of salt and sweat, the faintest smell of sweet cinnamon filled her senses. Flopping on the bed, Elain closed her eyes and willed herself to smell only that—it reminded her of home, somehow. 

Wherever that was, anyway. It felt like several lifetimes had passed since she’d left the human lands though it had barely been a full day. She’d gone from the bed she’d slept in for nearly a century to her sister's home to this ship in quick succession. 

Was she even allowed to cry? She was alive, after all. Safe, too, for whatever that was worth. No one loved her anymore. And with Gray’s last words echoed in her mind Elain thought that, maybe, no one ever had. Not really. Not in the end.

Curling on her side, Elain dragged a lumpy pillow away from the scratched up headboard. It, too, smelled like cinnamon. Burying her face into the fabric, Elain cried anyway.

[sharpedgedfool]

i fucking love your monster au design for shadow could we have some lore abt him? (if you want to :])

Apologies for the essay I'm about to drop for your ask jddfgsdkgf, but here's a sketch as a peace offering and I'll drop all the lore I have for you under the read more! Glad people are interested in it cause I'm currently obsessed with it lmao

OK so basically Eggman in this universe is still the mad doctor type, he’s just obsessed with the occult instead of robotics. He’s a mortal human but hunts monsters for experiments and he’s obsessed with gaining supernatural powers to rule the world, and Sonic and Amy with their usual group are his main enemies.

He has a big following of humans (who think he’s trying to save them from monsters) and a rather large army of other monsters who work for him - so he has a ton of resources despite being a 'regular dude', and he’s slowly collecting spellbooks and teaching himself magic.

He finds a rare grimoire, and it unlocks a treasure trove of dark magics. Now his big master plan is to summon a demon to serve him and gain ultimate power, to do this he needs the seven emeralds for the ritual.

Sonic and Amy are the main hero duo in the story, Sonic was cursed with lycanthropy as a child when a pack attacked his village, he was spared because he was young, and went to find a witch in hopes of a cure. The witch he found was Vanilla, her daughter Cream, and Amy who is her apprentice. Before Sonic could be cured he made friends with a few other cryptids who live in the same woods and in the end decided he’d rather stay cursed with them as he had nowhere else to go anyways. He’s not in a traditional pack (all were-creatures) instead they have a rag-tag group with all kinds of different monsters that live with the witches (Tails and Knux are in there somewhere I promise jkfgdhdf). He likes having the werehog strength so he can fight back and protect his new family.

Rouge is a born Vampire, not turned. Her parents were killed at some point and she took over their coven after she avenged them and proved herself worthy. She’s like the Queen of sorts and rules over a majority of the vampires across the world - she has eyes (and ears) everywhere, there's very little she doesn’t know about. So Sonic and Amy ask her for help when they realise Eggman’s planning something big. She has a huge hoard of gems locked up in a big spooky cliffside castle, she’s obsessed with treasure still. She agrees to aid them to overthrow Eggman in exchange for the seven emeralds for herself. She doesn’t want to use them for their power, so they agree.

Everyone teams up to find the emeralds first, but Eggman outsmarts them, and the ritual begins before they can stop him, and once it’s begun it’s irreversible. The only thing they can do at this point is change who the demon is bound to, so Sonic throws himself into the curse (he already has one after all).

Shadow is the demon that’s summoned. Typical demon pacts imply that he’ll do whatever the summoner asks, granting them ultimate power, but he’ll get their soul in return. The catch is if Sonic never asks him to do anything, he’s technically not indebted and Shadow won't get his soul. It’s a game of temptation, but since Sonic was technically an unwilling participant, Shadow's more intrigued than anything - he’s confident Sonic will eventually cave and ask him for something (they always do) so he doesn’t attempt to trick him, he sees no need.

Sonic now has a demon chained to him constantly, and he’s extremely on guard (demons are as powerful as creatures get in this universe) and he’s off put by how genuine Shadow comes across. Shadow asks a lot of questions, and Sonic assumes he’s doing it to learn how to manipulate him - Shadow finds it amusing. Eventually they get used to each other, Shadow and Rouge get along well (though they both tease Sonic mercilessly together so he tries to avoid her but Shadow will nag him to visit) Amy tries to work on a spell to break the bond between them but it's a notoriously hard spell to break (perhaps impossible as they destroyed the grimoire in the fight with Eggman), but eventually Sonic and Shadow are both unsure if they want it to be broken at all…

Sonic starts asking Shadow questions too, and finds out more about Shadow. Originally he was an angel - thousands of years ago he had a mortal friend (Maria) and the two of them were inseparable. Unlike demons, angels rarely interact with the world so her village mistook her good fortune as witchcraft and assumed Shadow to be a demon. They killed her over it, and Shadow was heartbroken - in a fit of rage he lashed out, wiped out their town and proved to them he could be the demon they thought he was. He became a fallen angel, scorned and bitter - not born of pure evil but clearly capable of carnage all the same.

Unlike hellborn demons, Shadow doesn’t enjoy mindlessly committing atrocities - he has to feel it’s a necessary evil or he’ll turn it on his summoner (this makes him dangerous to summon, he’s normally considered off-limits). He’s one of the more powerful demons but he’s hard to reason with to make it worth it. Eggman targeted him specifically because he thought Shadow would side with him as Maria was a distant ancestor of his.

Once the annoyance of being forcefully summoned wears off,  Shadow’s rather pleased Sonic isn’t trying to use him for anything - he’s secretly happy to have someone with decent morals to hang out with (he’s an outcast in hell for obvious reasons) but he’d refused to make mortal contact with anyone willingly after Maria for fear of resigning them to a bad fate all over again.

Again thank you for reading!! I'll have more art to share soon!! :)

[cultofdixon]

Simply with you

Rick Grimes • She/Her Pronouns • When Merle died, Daryl took on the big brother role more heavily compared to when he was the middle child. He doesn’t quite like the idea of Rick having eyes on his sister for whatever reason • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Anxiety / Scars

Requested by: Anon

“Who’s that?” Rick questions his friend Shane as he looks over to the youngest Dixon heading toward her part of the camp.

“Well. Someone yea gonna have to tell that their brother was left chained up on a roof”

“If I can put it off, I’m gonna”

“Fine. Wait for the other brother.”

Maybe he should’ve said something to soften the blow.

“You left my brother? On a goddamn roof?!” Daryl snaps about to throw a punch when his sister Y/N stepped between him and the sheriff.

“Thanks…He was just—-“ And then Rick was cut off by Y/N’s left hook in the face knocking him on his ass.

“Stand down buddy, or my boot will end up when the sun don’t shine” Y/N hissed and part of her was tempted to spit on the pig but given she has a soft spot for the man’s son. She wasn’t going to do it in front of Carl.

All she did was scoff and walk away from the scene to wrap her head around what happened. Shane helped Rick back to his feet and part of him felt the need to apologize to her but Daryl instantly blocked his way.

“Stay away from her, cowboy”

Not like that lasted long.

“You didn’t find him?” Lori asks Rick once they handled the horde that came through and collected the bodies. Andrea still by her sister.

“No, but Daryl’s hopeful in the sense that he did get himself out of the handcuffs”

“How did he—“

“You don’t wanna know, Lori” Rick frowns glancing over to the Dixons as Y/N kept this deadpan look when Daryl was telling her about Merle only for her to look over at him locking eyes.

Y/N’s expression saddened before looking away from the sheriff heading toward their camp outside of camp to pack up. They weren’t safe there anymore.

The plan after learning about certain things, was to take Jim to the CDC in hopes for some cure to the virus coursing through him from the walker bite. Y/N got her things in the back of Daryl’s truck after he strapped down Merle’s bike.

“Yea leading us”

“Yeah I know, because both my and Merle’s bike couldn’t get in the bed” Y/N laughs slightly slipping on her army green jacket zipping it up making her way to her bike. “Plus I’ve been to that place…how many years ago?”

“Too fucking long ago, Merle was supposed to take yea to school to go on the damn trip. Next thing we know DPSS called”

“God, memories…” Y/N‘s smile slowly fades and Daryl took notice of such as he was about to reassure her that they’ll find their idiot older brother but Rick made his way over to them to discuss the plan once more.

“We’re leavin’ soon. You know—-“

“She knows, man. Just follow her lead” Daryl interrupts before going to get in his truck as Y/N looked over to Rick who met her eyes in an instant.

“See you there” Y/N states putting her helmet on, the only safety smart Dixon, before getting on her Hornet 919 and starting it up.

The ride had a few bumps, then a literal one being leaving Jim behind. But they kept the plan of going to the CDC…

During the night with good food and a few bottles of wine…Y/N stared at the glass given to her while everyone laughs and enjoy the conversations they were sharing. She couldn’t help the unsettling feeling of someone looking at her bringing her eyes to look around finding the same blue eyes from hours before looking right at her. A laugh escapes her as her voice blends into the groups so Rick couldn’t exactly understand why that erupted from her.

But she’s enjoying herself, right?

Y/N dropped her drunk brother on the couch rolling him on his side so he wouldn’t choke on his throw up if it happened. She’s gotten used to this. Once Daryl was taken care of, Y/N left the room they were in to take advantage of the hot water she’s been hearing about. But shit had other plans…

The young Dixon approached the common room after hearing something off and she didn’t hesitate to open the door finding Shane trying to get more physical with Lori. Wouldn’t be the first time she walked in on the two, normally she’d bat an eye but given Lori’s expression of relief when she walked in.

Oh I’m gonna fight a pig Y/N glares at Shane watching him step away from Lori. “You better get or I’ll fucking make you”

“Like I’m scared of you” Shane scoffs only for a knife to go dangerously close to his Adam’s apple as his whole body tensed when she pressed her knife against his skin.

“So. You gonna leave or what?”

It took him a second before shaking my giving her a thumbs up as she releases her threat but doesn’t leave until he’s the first one out. But even when Shane finally left, Y/N quickly turned to Lori with worry written on her face and Lori’s never seen that feeling on her before.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…thanks to you…”

“I’ll walk yea back to your room before going back to mine” Y/N decided to wait til morning to enjoy that hot water. She wanted to make sure Lori got back alright.

Once Lori entered the room her husband and son were in, Rick still in a bit of a haze from the alcohol got up for a second heading toward the door seeing Y/N instantly tense. He stepped back thinking he was the reason, but it was more so what Shane did.

“Rick, keep an eye on Shane.”

“Wha—What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just do it or you’ll regret it” Y/N frowns stepping away and heading back to her room with her brother.

The CDC…was a luxury short lived then it sort of..definitely got worse from there…

“You better be safe, dumbass.” Y/N punched Daryl in the arm as a reminder of what she’s really going to do if he gets hurt searching for Sophia. “Can’t have another gun shot victim”

“Hey I won’t get mistaken for a fuckin’ deer”

“A walker more like it” Y/N scoffs stepping away from Daryl and the horse he was taking from the Greenes. The farm family they stumbled across after someone they took in shot someone from their group. Poor Carl.

The moment Daryl left, Y/N quickly brought herself to check on Carol to see how she was holding up before making her rounds to the Grimes. Ever since the CDC, she checks up on them. Plus when Daryl ain’t in view, Rick isn’t too afraid to talk to her.

“Hey” Y/N caught Rick off guard as he was staring at his sleeping son with Lori laid beside him through the mesh of the tent. “Yea sure it was safe for him to recover out here?”

“Hershel said it’s fine.”

“Mm. Daryl went to look for Sophia, he should be back in a few hours”

“Be honest” Rick turns to her, freezing in a bit of the moment as all she did was cross her arms giving him a curious look to what he’ll be asking. But he got lost in his thought. “I…Forget it. Doubt he’d find her before nightfall”

“Searching can take days. Months. Whatever. Just don’t say anythin’ bad to Carol, alright?”

“Right…what are yea going to do? While you wait for your brother”

Y/N glances over to the barn as she was curious why they never went in it. But she pushed that agenda down, someone else will check it out eventually. “Might take my bike into town. Or the near by neighborhood. See if I can find anything of use for us. Or even Sophia”

“You shouldn’t go alone”

“I prefer to be”

The second Y/N left the farm, Rick instantly told Lori that he was going on a run when the reality is he’s going to check on Y/N. Something was off. At least he thinks so, he’s going with his gut here.

But the moment he got in a car, Glenn and Maggie asked to tag along for whatever he was going out for. For other reasons. Rick didn’t need to know that when he turned into the nearby neighborhood finding Y/N’s bike parked.

“Hey isn’t that—-“

“Yeah, Imma go see if she needs anythin’. You check out another home for anything”

“Is there a time frame for when…?” Glenn questions Rick as the sheriff gives him a confused look with a quick side eye toward Maggie before getting the hint.

“30 minutes should be enough” Rick states parking the car and stepping out once he secured his gun and knife. Like he was keeping track of that shit.

The man didn’t exactly have a plan. All it was was to find Y/N but nothing after. Why was he even going after her in the first place? Doubt that will be answered given he didn’t find her first, it was the other way around and she wasn’t happy about it.

“You have no idea how awkward it is to walk in on Glenn and Maggie” Her voice made him quickly turn as Y/N instantly pushed him into the house that her bike was parked by, she was actually looking for supplies. She wasn’t—- “The fuck did you think I was doing out here Rick?”

“I just. I—-“

“Spit it out!” She snaps and Rick quickly in a ‘heat of the moment’ reaction, wrapped his arms around the youngest Dixon as she froze in to the contact.

“You didn’t seem alright and I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you’re alright”

Y/N continued to stand there and Rick continued to hold her until he felt he was over stepping a line. But as he started to pull away, she latched onto him holding onto him and gripping onto the back of his shirt. Neither said a word.

And haven’t since that moment…

Daryl got shot

The barn was full of walkers

Sophia was…found

Shane lost his mind

The barn fire

People got separated and scrambled around the farm, the common point they knew was to go to the highway to regroup. Daryl instantly went to Rick grabbing him by the collar when his sister didn’t turn up right away.

“The fuck did yea say to my sister?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin—“

“Before the goddamn fire. Before the walkers spilled out. When I was recovering after being shot and impaled.” No one bothered to intervene. Especially given they were still feeling everything. “If she don’t turn up because of the shit yea told her—-“

The group tense to the sound of rustling coming from the tree line as they separated to get their weapons out. But once the smartest decision being made, Beth turning on her flashlight, the light shone directly on the youngest Dixon coming out of the shadows.

“Thank—“

“—-god” Rick sighs watching Daryl quickly run over to his sister seeing the damage, riding in a hurry wasn’t her strong suit.

“Yer bleedin’” His concern washed over his tone assessing her injuries as Y/N instantly smacked away when he touched her side. “They feel broken? Your ribs?”

“Yes. But come on…I’m not dying here”

“You’re not gonna die.” Daryl hissed bringing her arm around his shoulders bringing her to the group.

This…was the start of a grueling nine months of hopping from shelter to shelter. Or at least what they can make into a shelter. Then the prison came…and well. The beginning wasn’t great, you know this…they’ve lost so much.

T-Dog’s Dead

Lori’s Dead…

…Merle’s dead

Daryl has always been protective of Y/N, but now it’s just them. They didn’t have to worry about Merle anymore and in their sense…that was weird. Odd. Different. He was going to be even more protective to make sure nothing happens to his sister. Has to do better…can’t lose her like Merle.

Y/N tiredly makes her way back to the main prison after taking the night watch. She wouldn’t mind staying there longer, the infusion of new people made her anxious.

“Hey…” the retired sheriff’s voice wasn’t the only thing to catch her attention, it was also the soft coos that escaped the baby he held close. “You finished your watch?”

“Yeah, what are you doing out here?” Y/N kept her voice low for Judith who started to finally fall asleep.

“Missed her screamin’. Didn’t want to wake our whole cell block and hell maybe the next one over as well” Rick laughs softly looking down at his daughter finally sleeping. “You should head back inside, alert whoever’s next”

“That would be my brother, surprised he ain’t out here already”

“He always been protective of yea huh?”

“First it was our mom dying, then dad leaving…now Merle.” Y/N tensed slightly as she crosses her arms. “Can’t blame him.”

“Right…”

She wanted to say more but she knew she had to get back.

“Goodnight Rick, keep her warm out here” Y/N squeezes his shoulder on her way back inside the prison as Rick watches her go inside keeping his eyes trained on her until she faded from his view. Bringing his attention back to the small child.

Y/N slowly and quietly brought herself into the cellblock pushing the blanket for a door out of the way collapsing instantly on the deconstructed bunk bed. Even with all that’s happened, good or bad, she couldn’t help but think back to when Rick hugged her. She felt…safe in his arms but a part of her knew he wouldn’t want more.

…or

A few days passed and Daryl finished getting ready for the run with his sister, Glenn, and Maggie. But when he called for her outside of her cell, he was met with silence.

“Cmon Y/N, everybody is ready” Daryl moved the blanket to find nobody. Weird.

He instantly went to Hershel who was in the cellblock at the time asking if he’s seen her but he did not. Neither has Beth when she came in right as Daryl was leaving.

The archer stepped out of the prison spotting his sister in the gardens with the retired sheriff and before he could go over there, he was instantly stopped by the happy couple. Overly happy couple. Maggie kept Daryl cemented by the entrance to their cellblock as they all knew he wouldn’t push her out of the way.

“Why she out there with him? Thought we—-“

“We’re trying to like. Get them uh…”

“Together.” Maggie side eyed Glenn before giving Daryl a straight look. “We are trying to get them together. So don’t—“

“Nah I don’t approve of this—-“

“Last time I checked you’re not her dad—-“

“Yeah I fuckin’ ain’t. I didn’t give her those cigarette scars. Now get the fuck out of my way before he takes her somewhere and leaves her there” Daryl snapped leaving the two speechless but when he tried to push past, Maggie stopped him once more.

“She ain’t Merle, Daryl. You ain’t gonna lose her like him in any way”

“She also…knows better than to work with sketchy people. From what I know of her.”

“Besides, Rick will keep her safe. He’s learned a lot from his mistakes…he’ll keep her safe, Daryl. You won’t lose her too” Glenn stated and Daryl tensed to his words glancing over to the two in the field.

She was happy. Genuinely happy and none of that fake crap…Y/N was happy and Rick was going to make sure nothing and no one takes that from her.

[bunnyshideawayy]

cassian. great man, wonderful friend, absolutely terrible mate.

we have seen Nesta’s sisters, who arguably have less of a reason, defend her more than Cassian has ever thought about. HELLO?

my issue with cassian acosf and onward is that we are truly expected to believe they he deeply understands Nesta when he’s been shown time and again to never stick up for her and never fully trust her. he does nothing to help her over come and face her traumas / depression, she’s left to do that on her own, but best believe he’s down to fuck and make her hike! (no sarah sex and physical exercise are not cures)

after reading the entire series once and now twice seeing Rhys threatening anyone who dares breath wrong in Feyre’s direction under the guise of just “protecting his mate” i find it extremely hard to believe cassian allowed or even sides with anyone who speaks ill of/to Nesta or threatens her- all of which Rhysand and most of the IC (besides her sisters and Az) do, most of the time while directly in front of cassian in conversations he’s involved in. the most he does is…pout a little? throws a hissy fit? the two times i can remember him even remotely stick up for Nesta he immednantly backtracks as soon as Rhysand pushes back, both times the final decision being put in Feyre’s hands, this continues even into CC3 (and let’s thank the mother Feyre loves her sisters which is something ik yall nesta haters can’t stand.)

let’s move onto something i know yall don’t want to talk about, his verbal abuse. “oh but nesta also said-“ we know what she said, that is not the point. if this man knew all along nesta was his mate and truly wanted to help her heal from her traumas and depression why did he take every chance he could to provoke her? Nesta called Rhysand an asshole, and he IS especially to Nesta, and instead of keeping silent as he does when Rhys/the IC harshly critique her, he immediately gets angry and in her face to defend him. funny he can’t do that with her, his MATE? or let’s talk about this scene

oh okay! that’s totally something you say unprompted to your mate who is severely depressed and traumatized because she won’t eat! she’s totally not shaking because she’s triggered! then to add the lecture “we’ve been here before, too” oh okay! so you admit you know what she feels like (very doubtful although i’m not going to compare their traumas, both are valid he just does not understand her like he thinks he does) it’s patronizing and a little frustrating. she doesn’t want to be there in the first place, purposely throwing a sensitive subject in her face will not magically motivate her or cure her- she is simply doing what she has no choice in. she has been stripped of all autonomy, humanity, and “normality”- she feels alone and valuable in a way she as never felt before and she has NO HELP. none!

i’ll end with the hike. yay more physical activity as punishment- but if i said that was abuse yall will bring up the pregnancy so ill do it for you! Yes, Nesta was wrong to tell Feyre THE WAY SHE DID, she had every right to tell Feyre about her own body and pregnancy, it just shouldn’t have happened the way it did. everyone knew it was wrong to keep it from Feyre, even Cassian, so instead of forcing her to hike a mountain as punishment to ware her down mentally and physically he couldve stood up for both Feyre and Nesta to Rhysand the moment he threatens to KILL NESTA. a simple “hey buddy you knew it was wrong to keep that from Feyre you can’t kill my mate for telling her even if it was out of anger” would suffice. not once during their entire hike or during her breakdown does he reassure her, not even when she is tearing herself apart because she doesn’t feel worthy. don’t even get me started on what happens in CC3.

over all i think Nessian is great and they have some great moments, the end of ACOWAR lives rent free in my mind but i am incredibly disappointed with Cassian. i do feel like Nesta deserves better from everyone (besides Feyre and Elain who, again, are the only ones who i truly believe love her unconditionally.)

anti nesta’s this is not a safe space for you.

[candyeager]

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋

— gojo satoru x fem!oc

CHAPTER SEVEN 2.6k words

short synopsis. in which her marriage to Satoru Gojo, the world's most arrogant and untouchable sorcerer becomes both a chain and a cure. warnings. graphic violence, murder, blood mentions, disorder eating, implied sexual threats, suggestive themes. tags. gojo x fem!oc, arranged marriage, angst with happy ending, eventual fluff, heavy pining/yearning, emotional detachment. oc is an empath.

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Kurai

Kurai gripped the kitchen knife with a scowl, its weight foreign and wrong in her hand. She aimed at the dummy, throwing it again, but it wobbled midair before clattering against the floor. Useless. Unlike her trusted dagger, the blade felt heavy and clumsy. 

Frustration bubbled up inside her, and before she knew it, she had tackled the dummy to the ground. Straddling its lifeless form, Kurai let out a guttural growl, stabbing wildly at its head with the kitchen knife. Each thrust was filled with an unfocused rage, her mind filling in the face of the dummy with Botan's—smug, deceitful, alive. 

The repetition of her stabbing became a rhythm, almost a meditation, but an ugly one. Five weeks. She'd been confined here for five whole weeks. At first, she welcomed the solitude, but now it gnawed at her, an unbearable silence that only amplified her thirst for vengeance. Day by day, it was becoming harder to suppress the hatred boiling inside her. She wanted to feel his blood on her hands. The head of the dummy, now unrecognizable and shredded to pieces, offered no comfort.

Finally, her body gave out, her arms trembling with exhaustion. She collapsed next to the ruined dummy, pulling her knees to her chest. 

"This is the worst kind of torture," she whispered to herself. 

Being trapped, forced to wait—useless.

"Aren't you a deadly little thing?" 

The familiar voice cut through her thoughts. Kurai didn't bother to sit up. She knew who it was. That voice, always tinged with that insufferable amusement, grated on her nerves.

"Leave me alone." Her voice was cold, but she didn't care. She was in no mood for his games.

Satoru knelt beside her, undeterred. "But you don't look like you want to be left alone."

Kurai turned her head to glare at him. The sunlight gleamed behind him, casting a shadow over his features, but she could still make out the smug expression beneath those dark sunglasses. It was infuriating how he always looked so unbothered, like nothing could ever touch him.

"I definitely don't want to be left alone with you," she snapped.

His lips curled into a teasing smile. He was always like this, finding amusement in her anger. She didn't have the energy for it, and as she stood to walk away, he gently tugged her wrist, his touch light but firm. 

"Want to fight me? You look like you could use a sparring partner."

Kurai narrowed her eyes. "Only if you let me kill you in the end."

Satoru's laugh was low and infuriating. "Nah, you know I'm basically immortal, doll. Especially against you."

That arrogant tone—so casual, so sure of himself—made her blood boil. Without thinking, Kurai threw a punch at him, reckless and wild. Satoru sidestepped it easily, his posture never shifting, always graceful. That look on his face—half-smirk, half-taunt—made her angrier. 

She threw another punch, and then another, each more desperate than the last. He dodged them all, effortlessly, as if he barely had to move. His expression didn't change, still watching her like she was an amusing child throwing a tantrum. Her muscles screamed in protest, her arms heavy with fatigue, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, even if it was impossible.

Eventually, her strength gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, panting, her body shaking with the effort she had exerted. 

Satoru tilted his head down at her, still standing tall, unscathed. "Is that all, or are you saving the good stuff for later?"

His voice wasn't mocking, but it wasn't sympathetic either. It was as if he had expected this from the start, waiting for her to burn out. 

Kurai's blood boiled again. He was doing this on purpose—pushing her, taunting her, waiting for her to snap. And she did. She glared up at him, wishing she could wipe that smug expression off his face, if not by killing him, then maybe with a slap. 

He crouched in front of her, still infuriatingly calm, and Kurai didn't hesitate. She shoved him hard, knocking him onto his back. For a brief, satisfying moment, she was on top of him, straddling him. She knew he'd let her do it, of course. He was stronger, faster, and could have stopped her easily, but that didn't matter. Right now, seeing him beneath her, that stupid grin still plastered on his face, was enough. 

Her hand shot out, wrapping around his neck, her nails digging into his skin with deliberate force.

Satoru's grin didn't waver. Instead, he groaned, a low sound that sent a shiver through her. 

"Ah, shit. That feels good," he murmured, his voice thick, pleasure evident in every word.

It hit her then—the heat. 

His emotions, raw and unfiltered, surged through her, pouring into her like a wave. Desire. Pure, unrestrained lust, mixed with that ever-present confidence. It was overwhelming, suffocating even, the intensity of it slipping into her, making it harder to think. He wasn't just enjoying this—he was revelling in it. The way her nails bit into his skin, the way she hovered over him, trying and failing to assert control.

Kurai's breath quickened, but she refused to let go. If he was going to get off on this, then she'd just choke him harder. Maybe—just maybe—she could kill him this way. But no matter how tightly she squeezed, his grin only grew wider, his groans of pleasure deeper. 

Her body reacted before her mind caught up—she felt something hard against her thigh. Her eyes widened, realization struck her like ice water. 'Was he—?' She jumped, her hands flying off his neck in disgust, retreating from him as quickly as she could. 

Satoru took the opportunity, flipping their positions effortlessly. Now, it was him pinning her down, his body towering over hers. His smirk hadn't faded—it had only deepened, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker.

Kurai's chest rose and fell quickly, both from exertion and the lingering traces of his emotions still clinging to her. His lust was stronger now, more possessive, like he was savoring the power he held over her. But there was something else too—a restraint, like he was holding back, enjoying the anticipation more than the act itself.

Kurai's cheeks burned, though she'd never admit if it was from rage or the heat of his emotions. She frowned up at him. 

"You're unbelievable." She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he had gotten hard just from her choking him.

Satoru chuckled, his voice raspier now after the pressure of her grip on his throat. "What can I say? You're good with your hands."

The smirk on his lips deepened as he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin, lips brushing just beneath her ear.

Kurai's body flinched instinctively, a reflex she couldn't control. It wasn't fear—at least, not in the way he might think—but her muscles tightened, her pulse quickening in a way that felt all too familiar. Her body remembered the pain, the first time he'd claimed her, when he hadn't cared for her discomfort. The memory still lingered in her bones, and whenever he got too close, her body betrayed her, reacting before her mind could.

Satoru stilled, noticing her reaction. His lips hovered near her ear, but then he pulled back, his sharp eyes studying her reaction. 

For a brief second, Kurai thought she saw something flicker across his expression—a shadow of regret, or something softer that she wasn't used to seeing from him. His emotions, once burning with lust, seemed to dampen just slightly.

"Still scared of me, doll?"

Kurai narrowed her eyes. "No." She didn't owe him an explanation, and she sure as hell wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. 

Satoru's smirk returned, though more subdued. "Oh, really?" 

Kurai saw he tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating something before leaning in again, this time pressing his lips against the side of her neck. His touch was softer now, his mouth leaving slow, teasing pecks along her skin as if savoring every reaction she couldn't quite suppress.

"Get off me," she hissed, her voice sharp despite the flush creeping up her neck. 

"Relax. You act like I'm going to bite," Satoru murmured as his lips lingered, but then he froze, his body flinching in surprise. "You're different, Kurai," he said, his tone suddenly serious.

"What?" Kurai demanded, her brows furrowing. 

Satoru's eyes dropped to her hand. He was staring at the ring on her finger—the ring he'd placed there during their wedding ceremony. It pulsed faintly with the cursed energy of the Gojo clan, a subtle but unmistakable hum.

"Ah, no wonder." Satoru's grin widened, his thumb brushing over the ring's surface as if realizing something she couldn't yet understand.

Kurai didn't care for whatever revelation he was having. She seized the moment to shove his face away, but he caught her wrist easily, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes danced with amusement, that ever-present arrogance returning full force.

"Still wearing the ring?" he teased, his voice taunting as he lifted her hand to emphasize the point.

"I said get off me!" she snapped, anger flaring in her chest. Without thinking, she balled her free hand into a fist and swung it hard at his jaw.

Satoru wasn't expecting it—her punch landed squarely, sending him sprawling backward with a grunt. For a split second, Kurai stared, surprised that it had actually worked. But she didn't waste time. Scrambling to her feet, she spotted the kitchen knife nearby, and in one swift movement, she grabbed it, pointing the blade directly at him.

Satoru's chuckle echoed through the garden as he propped himself up on his elbows, his expression far too relaxed for someone who had just been punched in the face. "Damn, you've got quite the temper."

"Touch me again, and I'll cut your hand off, you manwhore," Kurai hissed, her grip tight on the knife.

He raised an eyebrow at her words, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Manwhore?" He laughed, the sound deep and carefree, as if her threat was nothing more than a joke to him. "I like that one."

Kurai didn't wait for him to say more. She turned on her heel, the knife still clenched in her hand as she stormed off. Behind her, Satoru's laughter followed, lingering in the air like an unwanted shadow.

Despite her anger, her pulse was still racing, and she cursed herself for it. Even when she was furious, he found a way to get under her skin, to leave her feeling unsettled. But she wasn't about to let him see that. Not now. Not ever.

Kurai stared down at the tonkatsu set in front of her, the steam rising from the breaded pork and miso soup curling lazily in the air. Just a moment ago, she had felt the familiar pangs of hunger, but now, staring at the meal, her appetite vanished completely. It wasn't that the food was unappealing—on the contrary, it looked fine. Perfectly fine.

But something about it was... different.

Her fingers grazed the edge of the table, and she realized with a faint sense of melancholy what was missing. Namishi used to check her meals, making sure they were exactly to her liking, down to the smallest detail. She had been spoiled that way, and now, with him gone, there was no one left to fuss over these things. 

She glanced up at the new cook, who stood nearby, fidgeting nervously.

"I'm sorry, Lady Sanzu... is the food not to your liking?" the cook stammered, his voice thin with anxiety.

Kurai shook her head, though her expression remained indifferent. "No, it's fine. I'm just not hungry anymore."

The cook's shoulders slumped slightly in relief, but he still seemed tense, like he wasn't sure what to do next. Kurai didn't bother reassuring him further. Instead, she pushed herself up from the table and moved towards the door, her steps slow and measured. 

The hollowness inside her chest gnawed at her, and she hated it. She was grieving. That had to be it. Namishi's absence was starting to show in little ways she hadn't expected, and it irritated her how much it affected her.

She wasn't used to this feeling. Not anymore.

Even for someone like her, losing someone still stung. She remembered the way she had cried as a child when her father had disappeared from the clan, despite his cold indifference toward her. She had cried for days, a memory that now felt distant, almost foreign. That had probably been the last time she'd let herself cry over anyone.

She walked through the hallway, her mind heavy with memories she didn't want to revisit, when she suddenly felt something—a presence, sharp and intrusive. Her senses flared, and she turned quickly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Perched on a nearby pillar was a crow, its glossy black feathers glinting faintly in the low light. The bird tilted its head, its beady eyes watching her with unsettling focus.

Without thinking, Kurai's hand shot out, grabbing a pair of chopsticks she had slipped into her sleeve earlier. She threw them with practiced precision, aiming straight for the bird. But it darted out of the way with ease, its wings flapping in a burst of motion as it took off into the sky, leaving her standing there, her hand still outstretched.

Her brows furrowed as she lowered her arm. Something about the crow's brief presence left her feeling uneasy. Had it been just a bird? Or was it something more?

She couldn't shake the paranoia that followed.

As she continued down the hall, her mind still lingering on the crow, she nearly collided with Yoshida. He appeared to have just come from Satoru's side of the house, his usual calm demeanor still intact. His dark eyes slid over her, unreadable, half his face covered behind his mask.

"You're here often," Kurai noted, her voice steady but laced with subtle wariness.

Yoshida shrugged, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "Does my presence bother you, Kurai-san?" His tone was light, smooth, almost too smooth. It reminded her of the carefully crafted words Namishi used to spin, each syllable layered with hidden meaning.

Kurai's expression remained neutral, but her eyes hardened slightly. "No," she replied coolly. "But I'd appreciate it if you return the bow."

Yoshida's eyes—dark and sharp—glinted with a touch of amusement. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

A flare of irritation flashed through Kurai's chest, but she kept her composure, her gaze lingering on his infuriatingly polite smile. He was always like this—smooth, unruffled, his words slipping between sincerity and jest so effortlessly. It grated on her nerves, the way he could never be taken at face value.

She turned away, her voice quiet but pointed as she spoke. "I feel like I'm being watched."

Yoshida blinked, his expression only mildly curious. "Pardon?"

Kurai didn't stop walking. "Tell your sensei that. I'm being watched," she repeated.

Yoshida's smile flickered for just a fraction of a second, but it returned, almost instantly, as if the brief crack in his facade never existed. 

"Of course," he murmured, his voice as smooth as ever.

But Kurai didn't look back to see the rest of his reaction. She kept walking, her steps brisk, as though putting more distance between herself and that uneasy feeling would somehow calm the restless anxiety twisting in her gut.

Whatever was happening, something told her she was no longer alone in her own home.

< chapter seven ends >

taglist. @brailsthesmolgurl @osunism (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

[jbuffyangel]

No Choice to Make: Arrow 2x07 Review (State v. Queen)

Is there anything better than Oliver saving Felicity? The correct answer is no.  Of course, my feminist side is screaming Felicity can take care of herself (and does in most circumstances), but my inner Gloria Steinem needs to zip it.  I want romance novel heroism and “State v. Queen” delivers on a swoon worthy level.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity

This is easily my favorite Oliver protecting Felicity moment because there are so many nuances in their two primary scenes. However, to understand those nuances we have to review a little background information.

The Count escaped from Iron Heights during the earthquake (and released the Dollmaker while he was at it). I love this explanation for returning villains because it makes total sense. Logic in Arrow is rare jewel – treasure the moment.

Moira's trial is under way, but Diggle is not feeling well. Oliver sends John home, but he collapses in the bunker.

Oliver: I heard you passed out.

Diggle: I told Felicity not to call you.

Felicity: Yeah, but before that you said ‘gaw’ and ‘thud’ so I didn’t take it very seriously.

Felicity has John's blood tested and there are trace amounts of Vertigo in his system. They try Oliver’s antidote, but it doesn’t work. Adam Donner, the lawyer prosecuting Moira, also collapses in court due to Vertigo poisoning. The Count kidnaps him and forces him to take the drug to alleviate the withdrawal symptoms. It’s broadcasted live, so everyone affected knows the only cure is Vertigo.

I feel I would make a pretty good drug lord after watching Breaking Bad, Power and Queen of the South. The key to success is return customers, so this is not a half bad plan. You have to admire the Count’s industriousness. Ghost and Walter White would definitely approve.

Oliver hoods up after Felicity tracks Adam Donner’s location through the city seal of the Starling Municipal Records Department, which is reflected in Donner’s eye. Ok, so science is not sciencing in this episode. Felicity is immediately concerned about Oliver.

Felicity: I know what you're thinking.

Oliver: No you don't. I made a choice not put an arrow in this guy and it was the right choice. There’s no more killing.

Felicity was concerned Oliver would regret allowing The Count to live, but it’s just the opposite. He’s doubling down on his vow to Tommy. Oliver is not a conflicted man. He knows he made the right call. That's called growth, my friends.

Felicity’s little assertive nod means she backs Oliver’s decision one hundred percent. In fact, I’m sure she had a whole speech prepared for why not killing The Count was the right thing to do. It’s not just Oliver who believes there is a better way – Felicity and Diggle believe it too. This is as much their mission as it is Oliver’s. They also made a vow to Tommy to do better.

Unfortunately, The Count has caught wind that The Arrow’s aim is not lethal these days. The Count holds his arms wide open – an easy shot – and taunts Oliver to kill him, while Donner is held hostage by a henchman. It’s always a bit of a pickle to determine how Oliver is going to get himself out of these situations without killing. I’m all in favor of the vow he made, but killing does have some practical applications.

Of course, Oliver always finds another way. He fires on some flammable canisters, which creates a fire in a drug factory – clearly against OSHA regulations. Oliver spins and throws a flechette into the henchman’s arm, so he drops Donner and they make their escape.

THIS SCENE IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. REMEMBER WHAT OLIVER DID.

Felicity and Diggle determine the common denominator between all those poisoned with Vertigo is a flu vaccine, but they need to be sure. Oliver is busy with his mother’s trial at the courthouse and Diggle can barely walk. Felicity decides recon is on her tonight and seeks out the vaccine distribution van.  Low and behold, there is an entire shelf of Vertigo in the van, but The Count catches Felicity as she snoops.

Oliver and Thea are waiting for their mother’s verdict, which could be coming at any moment, when he receives a call from Felicity. But it’s not Felicity. It’s The Count.

The Count: Oliver? Is it okay if I call you Oliver? Surprised to hear from me, right? Not as surprised as I was. You see, I find this… not unattractive blonde getting all up in my business. And what does she have on her?

Source:  laurelscanary 

Oliver can hear Felicity crying on the other line and closes his eyes in absolute horror when he realizes she’s being held hostage.

The Count: A Queen Consolidated ID badge. Now, I think to myself, why does that name ring a bell? Oliver Queen. He tried to buy off me last year just before the hood put me in a padded cell. Ipso facto, ARROW.

Source:  laurelscanary 

Oliver doesn’t bother to contain his rage and without a second thought leaves the courthouse. Thea calls after him, reminding him that the jury will have a verdict anytime. All Oliver can tell her is that something came up at the office, but he cannot hide shakiness in his voice.  Oliver is afraid.

Oliver arrives at Queen Consolidated, suit on but hood down. For practical purposes, he doesn’t need to conceal his identity from The Count because he already figured it out – something so many other characters have failed to do with much more information than he had.

But from a symbolical perspective, the hood down is crucially important. Oliver is not here as The Arrow. He is here as Oliver Queen. This is personal to him. So much of this series is about Oliver struggling to reconcile his two halves – the hood and the man, but Felicity is one of the few people who truly knows both sides. He doesn’t have to hide with her.

Oliver approaches very slowly. He recognizes The Count has the upper hand and he cannot afford any mistakes. Felicity is zip tied to a chair and The Count holds a gun on her while he strokes her ponytail. That action alone sends the creep factor sky high.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

There is a sexual element to Felicity’s kidnapping. The Count referenced her attractiveness on the phone with Oliver. Now he’s stroking her ponytail. Oliver asks The Count what he wants and he responds, “World peace and personal satisfaction. Though not necessarily in that order.” He massages Felicity’s shoulders at “personal satisfaction” in the grossest way possible.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

It’s a thinly veiled threat of sexual assault, which does not go unnoticed by Oliver.  There are few things worse than rape and it serves to amplify Felicity’s terror and Oliver’s powerlessness and rage. If the writers intended to keep Oliver and Felicity strictly platonic they would not introduce this terribly disturbing aspect into the scene.

The Count monologues for a bit longer and tells Oliver someone else hates him almost as much. This mysterious benefactor funded the Vertigo operation, so The Count could draw The Arrow out and kill him. (Spoiler alert: it was Blood).

The Count gets the drop on Oliver and fires off a couple rounds. It forces Oliver to run and dive behind a couch. It always surprised me The Count was able to get the upper hand in this moment, which points to Oliver’s fear for Felicity more than anything. He’s not thinking strategically when it’s her life in danger. He can’t.

The Count cuts the zip ties and grabs Felicity by the ponytail. He drags her to the spot where Oliver was hiding, ready to finish him off, but this time Oliver gets the drop on him. He points an arrow squarely at The Count’s chest, but he is using Felicity as a shield. The Count holds two syringes of Vertigo (a lethal dose) to Felicity’s neck. It’s important to remember Oliver’s antidote for Vertigo did not work on Diggle.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

Don’t ever say to me Felicity Smoak is not a hero. She was willing to die to keep Oliver’s vow to Tommy. Felicity was ready to trade her life for Oliver’s soul. She believes in Oliver, and their mission, that much. What's madness is thinking Oliver would put the vow before her life.

The Count orders Oliver to lower his bow, which he does and tosses the arrow to the floor. Then we see him do something Oliver never does – he tries to negotiate.

Again, Oliver doesn’t bother to hide the fear in his voice which makes the negotiating sound a lot like begging.

The Count: Consider this your penalty for making me go to plan B in the first place.

The Count raises the syringes to Felicity’s neck and Oliver manages to pull not one, but three arrows in rapid succession - killing The Count. 

The look on Oliver’s face when he fires the arrows, tell me two things.  First, this kill is emotional. When Oliver shoots to kill he typically only needs one arrow. The Arrow never misses. Three arrows is excessive.  It is literally overkill which means one thing – pure rage.  

Second, the act is instinctual.  The rapid succession in which he fires the arrows shows there is something programmed deep in Oliver’s bones to protect Felicity. Her life was threatened and his body simply reacted.

Felicity drops to the floor and The Count crashes through the window. Oliver closes his eyes and exhales like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. I think it is part relief and part regret. He doesn’t regret killing that bastard, but regrets he couldn’t find another way this time.   

Or was there? Upon this rewatch I noticed a couple things. First, Laurel was held hostage by the Dollmaker and Oliver did not kill him. (Sara did the honors that time). But consider the scene with Donner. Oliver threw a flechette into the henchman’s hand to free Donner. The henchman let go of Donner as a reflex to the pain. Could Oliver attempt the same with Felicity? Would a flechette in The Count’s arm free her as well?

The point is we’ll never know. Oliver made a calculated risk at the municipal when he fired on the flammable liquid and injured, but didn’t kill, The Count’s henchman. Oliver was willing to take the risk when Donner and Laurel were involved, but not Felicity.

I’ve been watching a lot of Bridgerton, so the next scene screams romance novel to me.

Source: AARONSWARNER

Oliver makes his way to Felicity who remains crouched on the floor and crying.  He gets down on one knee and tenderly touches her shoulder.

Source: AARONSWARNER

Felicity immediately flinches in fear at his touch, so Oliver in a voice so soft it’s almost a whisper, gently reassures her. She finally looks up and sees Oliver staring back at her with concern and love. She exhales with relief.

Source: AARONSWARNER

The shock wears off quickly once she hears Oliver’s voice and feels his hand on her shoulder. Oliver’s first thought is for Felicity, but her first thought is for him. SHIP COUPLES WHO WORRY ABOUT EACH OTHER FOR CLEAR SKIN.

Source: AARONSWARNER

Oliver moves his uninjured arm from Felicity’s shoulder and cups her face. The man has an actual bullet in his shoulder, but can feel no pain because Felicity Smoak is alive and safe. She is all that matters to him.

Source: AARONSWARNER

These physical moments are no small thing. Oliver keeps an extremely rigged line with Felicity that he rarely crosses. Shoulder touches are the maximum physical contact he allows and even those are on rare occasion. But she almost died tonight, so Oliver allows himself to take it one step further and touches Felicity’s face.  Oliver’s whispered reassurances in his reserved-for-Felicity-only voice unveil the real intimacy between them. He comforts her. Not in the way Oliver would like, but in the way he can allow. The line is still there, but it’s blurred at the moment.

There is no moment which better encapsulates the two sides of Oliver Queen than this scene. One moment he is a rage filled killer and the next he is a soft spoken, loving and tender man. It is not an accident the two sides merge into one for her. Darkness and light working in perfect cohesion to be the hero Felicity Smoak needed.

Source: @laurelscanary

Oliver makes his way back to the courthouse. He is so visibly shaken that Thea asks Oliver if he’s okay. She touches his injured shoulder and Oliver flinches, but it’s not the bullet that’s bothering him. He came too close to losing Felicity. Way too close.

Source: @laurelscanary

Sadly, this somewhat reinforces what Oliver said to Felicity in 2x06. There is a direct correlation between proximity to Oliver and danger, so he thinks it’s better to remain emotionally unattached. In his mind, keeping Felicity at arm’s length means keeping her safe.

But there’s what Oliver says and what he feels. He can refuse to acknowledge or act upon his feelings for Felicity, but that does not eradicate them. If Oliver is truly worried about proximity then why does he allow Felicity to be part of the team? Two reasons, Oliver needs Felicity and firmly believes they can protect her. But this was a frightening close call and Oliver’s fear is stemming from a more than friendly place. Felicity Smoak has become too important to him and it is scaring the crap out of him.

Source: FERRISBUELLER

Oliver returns to the bunker after his mother’s verdict to check on Diggle and Felicity. The way he looks Felicity up and down y’all is… a lot. Queen Consolidated is formulating a non addictive antidote for the people with Vertigo poisoning. Moira is not guilty. All’s well that ends well, so Oliver tells Diggle and Felicity to go home and rest.

But Felicity needs to get something off her chest.

Felicity: Oliver, I uh…

The way this man spins at the sound of her voice like he's a golden retriever who saw a squirrel. He is so gone for this woman.

Felicity: I just wanted to say thank you.

Oliver: (nods) Yeah.

Source: laurelscanary

He truly cannot fathom what she is apologizing for and steps much closer than necessary.

Source: laurelscanary

It seems Felicity has inherited a little bit of Oliver’s guilt complex. YOU WERE KIDNAPPED MY PRECIOUS CUPCAKE!!!

Source: laurelscanary

HE. TAKES. HER. HAND. We had a shoulder touch, tender face caressing and now holding hands. At this point, this equivalent to first base for these two. MY BRAIN SHORT CIRCUITED.

Source: laurelscanary

Earlier in the episode, Oliver and Felicity discussed not killing The Count previously and how it was the right decision. Oliver’s certainty in the rightness of the decision solidifies his commitment to his vow to Tommy. It is not something Oliver is questioning or wavering on. 

But Oliver is not qualifying what happened to Felicity in those terms. This is not about right or wrong. In fact, it wasn’t a decision at all. Oliver was not calculating the risks. Oliver was not thinking about a vow, or honoring his best friend, or the mission. His only thought was Felicity and her safety. Oliver simply reacted. All he could see was Felicity. All he could feel was the unbridled rage that came from anyone threatening her life.  It is programmed deep into Oliver’s bones to protect Felicity. There is no rational thought when it comes to her.

Nor does he care if it was right or wrong now. Oliver is not Monday morning quarterbacking the situation. Someone raised a hand to her, so that person is dead. End of discussion.

There is a war happening between Oliver’s mind and his heart. Oliver was clearly thinking with his head when he told Felicity in 2x06 that he will not allow himself to love her. But this episode was a completely different story. Sometimes life and death circumstances bring a much needed moment of clarity. Oliver may believe he has a choice whether or not he loves Felicity, but his actions show his heart knows different. There is no choice to make.

Moira Queen

The trial is not going well, so Moira is forced to testify. Laurel is lead prosecutor now that Donner is infected with Vertigo.  "Conflict of Interest" is flashing in a neon sign. On any planet in the solar system, Laurel would recuse herself. THE INSANITY GIVES ME A MIGRAINE.

Laurel also decides she’d like to get disbarred and visits Moira in prison because they are “family." Yack. Give me a break. She doesn’t want Moira to take the stand because Laurel will have to prosecute her to the best of her ability and use their smoking gun. Sure, because now she cares about legal procedure.

So, Moira comes clean to Oliver and Thea and tells them she had a one night stand with Malcolm Merlyn while married to their father.  The kids are shocked to say the least. Oliver has a solid case of the yicks. Thea is more than a little angry since she accused her mother of having an affair with Merlyn last year. Moira assures Thea it was not an affair, so technically she didn’t lie. Moira should teach Professional Gaslighting 101.

Inexplicably, Moira is found not guilty. (In my notes: Hahaha suck it Laurel)

Even Oliver is wondering what the fuck just happened. Upon release from prison, Moira is driven to a secret location to meet up with none other than MALCOLM MERLYN. His explanation for being alive is basically, “I’m a super awesome actor and faked it.” Oliver – did you check his pulse? What happened to the body? Did we miss a step Team Arrow? CLEARLY WE DID.

Merlyn bought the jury and Moira’s freedom (Ummm thanks I guess?) so he can deliver the second bomb. He ran a DNA test and knows he’s Thea’s father. PLOT TWIST! Honestly, this makes a lot of sense. I wasn't that surprised. Thea looks more like Tommy than she does Oliver.

Wait, this means Thea kissed her brother. Are we just going to Star Wars this and never talk about it again? Works for me.

Stray Thoughts

Oh shut up Laurel. Quit your bitching - me every time she opens her mouth lately.

Ivo is looking for the hosen because it contains coordinates to a sub that sunk in WWII. Whatever is on the sub can save the world. Shado and Oliver hope it can save Slade, so Team Island is going on a submarine field trip!

Slade has burns on half his body and yet he can still move. The man is not human.

"I have this thing about needles, all pointy things, which is ironic given who we work for.” I just love her so much.

David Ramsey is so enormous he doesn’t fit on the table. The mind cannot conceive of all that muscle.

 “Mom secrets are what put you into this situation. Secrets and lies. And now is the time to give truth its day.” Oh the irony, Oliver.

Donner took drugs on live television. Re-election is going to be a real bitch for the DA.

I like the Thea’s boxing moment with Roy. Nice foreshadowing. Girl is going to have a lot of rage to work through.

Laurel did make a good point about Walter and Merlyn. See? I can be positive about her.

OLIVER. STOP. ASKING. LAUREL. IF. SHE. IS. OK. Her whole “how can you possibly forgive me” speech was also nauseating and not believable. I like her better drunk.

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested in Buddhism.” Slade is burned over half his body but he jokes.

30-30-175-12 I’m sure that has something to do with the comics but I don’t care.

Some guy named Cyrus survived Blood’s Frankenstein experiment. So that’s not good.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 2x07!!!

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[fantasiawandering]

I've been struggling a bit lately and could use some advice from the hivemind. It deals with a lot of the emotional baggage I've been trying to carry lately, so I'm putting it under a cut if you're not in the headspace for that sort of thing right now.

So the relevant backstory: Dad was in love with Mum since high school, and when she died, he went to pieces. My sister, who'd been living at home, helping take care of Mum through the cancer, basically put her grief on hold to keep Dad going through the next six months. Then, on the way home from Mum's memorial six months after her death, he told my sister he was seeing someone. He met her at work when he returned from bereavement leave. Now, I do understand this is a man who never learned how to handle his own emotions. He'd always had my grandmother, then my mother, to manage them for him. But in the next year, he did pretty much everything he could to drive both of his children away for a woman who bailed on him the moment the going got tough. Without getting into too much detail, my sister checked into an institution a while back because she was having some pretty dark thoughts about her own life, and her triggers were feeling like a burden to the family. Mum assured her she wasn't, and that she'd always have a home as long as she needed it. But as soon as that woman moved in and Dad didn't need my sister anymore, he started emotionally abusing and berating my sister, telling her what a burden she was every day until she had no choice but to leave. This was in the middle of the lockdowns. My sister landed with one of the greatest people in the world, and they're living in poverty but relatively happy. Because of this, Dad has convinced himself that not only did he do nothing wrong, he was actually a great Dad, making sure his disabled child developed independence.

But after multiple infections thanks to the woman he was living with (who believed that COVID was "just the sniffles" and vaccines were poison, and as long as they drank colloidal silver they'd be fine), Dad now believes he's developing dementia. His doctor thinks it's actually "pseudodementia," which apparently is mental health related. But Dad watched his mother lost to Alzheimer's and nothing scares him more. And the second colloidal silver and celery juice didn't cure him, the woman he'd moved into the house bounced.

Now Dad's scared. And he's been pressuring us to move in with him to take care of him. My sister will never trust him or put herself in that position again, and I'm of the same mind. He used to do similar to me when I lived there. Meanwhile, I'm still sick with a mystery disease that has no cure yet. I've got GP who actually believes in Long COVID, and a series of specialists I can get to in under 20 minutes. They're basically hacking away at the hydra heads of my symptoms until modern medicine figures out where the heart is. I'm still very much disabled. If I get ANY infection, my immune system goes berserk and starts doing the equivalent of firing a bazooka into a crowd in hopes of hitting whatever is off. I'm just coming off of about 2 months of throwing up at least once a day from the havoc it's wreaked on my digestive system. I can barely take care of myself, let alone another person, and if I moved three hours away to a small town with no public transit, at a time when there's a provincial crisis and NOBODY can find a new GP, not only would I lose my health network, but I'd be essentially housebound in a way I'm not in the city. I also know that I physically cannot handle a three-hour commute either way on days when I have to go in to work, so moving in would involve giving up the career I've been working toward for twenty years.

For all of these reasons, I said no. His siblings are coming at me with varying degrees of "it's your filial duty." None of them really understand just how sick I actually am, but I also don't think that would change things. And I feel guilty. Despite knowing that moving into a place with no infection control could make me bedbound or worse, and that I can't afford to be without a GP or a medical team, I feel like I've failed somehow. I love my Dad. But I can't take care of him and keep myself healthy at the same time. I've been doing what I can from here since he first started feeling like he was losing it. Every other day, I call him and read him a chapter of Sherlock Holmes, and he's told the rest of the family how much he enjoys it. And sometimes it's exhausting to read for that long, but I do it because he needs me and it's something I CAN do. I've also offered to help with his banking and things, but he's turned me down whenever I offer.

Now, since I said no, Dad has said that he wants to sell his house and move into a care community, and that what's holding him back is knowing if he did, there'd be nothing left for me and my sister when he's gone. And I don't think that's an attempt at manipulation, I genuinely believe he's concerned, because he knows how much we both struggle currently. But honestly, neither one of us was counting on getting anything anyway, and as much as we're still deeply hurt by what he did (he also threw my mother's remains away and then informed us in an add-on to an email forward, which broke me in a way I've never been broken before, and when my sister called him out on it, HE got mad and said "it was none of your business, this was between a husband and his wife."), we still want him safe and not alone and scared. We've both told him as much, and that neither of us are the kind of people who'd be sitting around going "raaah, how dare he spend our inheritance! Who does he think he is taking care of himself?"

But it's not an easy thing to deal with, especially given that I'm the one he's leaning on hardest -- I think even he realized he didn't just burn the bridge with my sister, he nuked it from orbit. I've been crying on and off for the last three days. And I don't know how to get myself out of it. Anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you. And yeah, that's what I'm dealing with as I try to drag myself out of this funk. So here's where the advice part comes in. I've been reflecting on a lot of things, and one of the conclusions I've come to is I need something to DO. I fill my days when I'm not working with movies and playing video games with my sister, but I think I need a physical hobby. Something to do with my hands. Something that lets me create things.

I've had to put a lot of what I used to do on hold. My brain still hasn't healed enough to write reliably. I started knitting, but COVID did something to my eyes, and when I look at the knitting for more than a minute or two, the rest of the world goes blurry and I can't see clearly again for another thirty minutes. I have similar problems with the beadwork I used to do. Anything that involves leaving the house is iffy due to my health, so it's got to be something I can do from home. So. Any ideas? What brings you joy?