#like he was supposed to be attached... enough to learn to love the world like yoichi did

[pocketramblr]

For Dreams are at the heart of sorcery, surely they would've known making AFO so attached to his brother in order to keep him from turning on Yoichi's line would've made him so attached to Yoichi that he refuses to make any connections behind him because he feels all he needs is Yoichi and that he would become murderous once losing said cherished brother?

(dreams)

you'd think so yeah, but the trouble is "they" are 1- an incredibly independent wolf sorceress who has devoted so much to Prophecy that she doesn't even need to keep her mortal body on hand all the time, and 2- said Prophecy, a force of universe and destiny that continuously works to right the universe to it's happiest state. and also they didn't make AfO so attached- not on purpose, anyway. the dramatic irony of it all, i suppose.

Their plan was that AfO traveling for his studies would let him have other connections, other friends and people he cared for, the plan was that he'd see the world outside the Vale how they see it- something worth working to protect, even through sacrifice. if not because of it's innate value the gods created it with, then because AfO himself had invested so much time and effort into it. The plan was to learn of destiny from the Tree, and of love from Yoichi, and take both out of the Vale.

Unfortunately, the plan just... didn't work. AfO never loves the outside world- summertime Riva is more dreary and colorless than wintertime Vale- and while he is proud of some of his work (like getting sorcery banned in Tolnedra) its because he was showing off, not for any other reason.

they also didn't expect the murder reaction, because... well, up until that point... AfO hadn't murdered anyone that the two of them hadn't pointed him at. But Yoichi's death was the first time for a lot of things

[justagalwhowrites]

Can't Stay Away - A QZ!Joel Miller Fic

Years after you turned to Joel for help getting out of a bad relationship, he can't seem to stop coming back to you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Angst (duh), Joel is a bit of an asshole (that's the point and it makes him even hotter, I fear), mention of past domestic violence (not described), injury from past domestic violence, threat of continued domestic violence. unprotected P in V sex, breeding kink, fantasizing about pregnancy (doesn't actually happen.) Minors DNI 18+ only, no use of Y/N.

Length: 4.1k

A/N: Shared for the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration found on Tumblr here. This is QZ!Joel with Secret Relationship and Breeding Kink. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | AO3

“Where the fuck else is there to go?” Tommy asked, shucking his mud-covered boots and leaving them in a pile by the door. 

“Just got business to take care of,” Joel said, voice rough. 

“It’s pourin’ rain, man,” his brother said, dropping his drenched pack to the table as if to make a point. “We didn’t even know we were makin’ it back tonight until fuckin’ tonight. Just stay home.” 

“Wanna get this done,” Joel said, taking his portion of their haul from his pack and piling it on the table. He left just one thing inside the pack. “Probably won’t be back ’til morning.” 

Tommy just pursed his lips, shaking his head a little. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Joel.” 

Joel didn’t say anything back. What did he have to say? 

Tommy had every reason to worry about him being stupid. Every reason to believe that Joel was going to do something that would hurt their smuggling operation. Every reason to believe that Joel was going to do something that would hurt himself. 

Which, he supposed, wasn’t particularly far off. 

You were, indeed, something stupid and something that would hurt him. 

You were his biggest indulgence and his biggest risk, the thing that was the largest threat to him here in the Boston QZ. 

Ex-wife of a FEDRA guard, Joel should avoid you. 

His work was dangerous enough as it was, he shouldn’t make it more dangerous by messing around that close to the people who could execute him if they really wanted, especially not with someone they seemed to take pleasure in tormenting.

But he couldn’t seem to stay away from you. 

He couldn’t put his finger on what it was. It wasn’t that he loved you. Not that he’d ever really loved a woman - he’d tried with Sarah’s mom and was sure he’d come up short - but he knew he didn’t have it in him to love anything now. The aching wound of loss took up too much of him, there wasn’t space for anything else.

But he did care. Whether that was because he was attached to you as a person or because you made him come so hard he forgot the world ended for a moment, he didn’t know. 

He supposed the why didn’t matter. He cared. He cared enough that he couldn’t lose you without it adding to that wound, one that had damn near killed him and had seemed to have only grown worse with time. 

That should be enough of a reason to stay away from you. Hadn’t he learned his lesson by now? That giving a shit only led to pain? That if he was going to keep surviving any of this, he had to be far, far away from something like you? 

Still, he made his way through the QZ, the pouring, cold rain fitting the grim environs. Everything here was slightly wrong. It looked something like a city from before but not. It appeared as though things could be normal, somewhere, except they weren’t. It seemed as though Joel had been tailor made for this place, this time. Living some kind of half life where everything was shades of gray, nothing left to live for but - apparently - not able to die. The last gasp of humanity left in him clinging to this world. 

That made you a shade of gray, too, one he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

It had started years earlier, when you were desperate and willing to trade sex for a gun. 

Joel hadn’t taken you up on the offer then, frowning as you watched him with wide, desperate eyes. 

“The hell do you need a gun for?” He’d asked. “If you don’t already got one, hard pressed to see someone like you startin’ in on a business that needed one.” 

“Does it matter?” You asked. “I’ll give you what ever you want, please.” 

“Matters to me,” Joel said. “Not about to arm someone looking to move in on my business.” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem tellin’ me what it is for,” he replied. 

You looked around, cagey, before lowering your voice further. As though talking about an illegal weapons trade wasn’t enough of a reason to keep quiet. 

“I’m leaving my husband,” you said, those wide, soft eyes watching him so closely. “He’s FEDRA and he’s made it clear that he won’t let me go without a fight. I need to be able to protect myself, please, I can give you ration cards as I earn them, I can… I’ll do anything else you might want, I…” 

“Stop,” Joel cut you off, tears starting at the edges of your eyes. He took his hand gun from its place tucked in the small of his back and passed it to you as discreetly as he could. “There, now you got somethin’. Meet me here tomorrow, same time, I’ll get you more ammo. Know how to use it?” 

“Don’t I just point it and pull the trigger?” You asked, brows raised. 

He just sighed. 

“Think you can keep from usin’ it until tomorrow?” He asked. You nodded quickly. “Good. I’ll show you.” 

“Thank you,” you said, stashing the weapon quickly. “What… what do I owe you?” 

The fear in your voice made his stomach turn.

“Nothin’,” Joel said. “Fine on ration cards at the moment. Don’t trade in the other shit. Tomorrow. Don’t be late.” 

 You just nodded quickly, thanking him with too much earnest hope in your voice for something being spoken to him.

Joel spent the afternoon the next day teaching you how to shoot as best he could inside the QZ. Turns out, the reason you didn’t already know how is that you’d been in Boston during the outbreak. You’d just moved there with your shitbag of a husband a few weeks before it all came crashing down. You’d never really needed to fight, let alone shoot or kill. You never needed a gun. 

Until your husband started hitting you. 

Joel learned quickly exactly why you felt like you needed to be armed. He’d put a hand on your ribs to adjust your stance and you hissed in pain. Joel pulled away quickly, frowning as you tried to hide your pained expression but it didn’t work. 

“You gonna tell me what that was?” He asked, brows raised. You clenched your jaw and stared at the ground. 

“It’s not your business.”

“I’m helpin’ you, your husband is a fucking FEDRA officer, if you’re about to haul off and kill him I should know why,” he said, voice heated. “So tell me, he do that?” 

Your eyes finally met his and he didn’t need to ask again. 

“Lemme see.” 

“Joel…” 

“Show me,” he said, voice sharp. 

You sighed and lifted your sweatshirt, revealing discolored and swollen skin along one side. 

Joel clenched his jaw. 

“It’s gotten worse,” you said quietly. “I can’t keep pretending it’ll be OK if we just get through this, I can’t pretend like he hasn’t been building toward this for years. I need to get out before he kills me.” 

Joel stepped back and you lowered your shirt, your eyes on his. 

“He bigger than you?” He asked. You nodded. “Alright, gonna teach you a few more things, too…” 

He showed you how to protect yourself without a gun and how to end a conflict with one. He hoped you wouldn’t need to use either. After a few days of showing you how to do the things he’d assumed just came with the territory of surviving the end of the world, you went your separate ways. 

But Joel still thought of you, an odd twinge in his chest when he did, something like concern. He wanted you to be OK. He couldn’t put his finger on why that would matter to him but he wanted that, he wanted you to be safe and happy. 

So when he ran into you on the street a few months later, he couldn’t help but ask. And you smiled at him, brighter than he’d ever seen you look, when you told him that you had your own place now, that the gun he’d given you had never been fired. It was hard, but you’d survived. 

The two of you went to the speakeasy and you bought Joel a drink, saying you owed him for helping you get out of your situation. He let you buy the first round. He bought the second. Before too long, he was in your apartment, pulling off your clothes and touching your body without you flinching away from him. 

You became like a drug to him then. Every few nights he found himself outside your door, desperate for the reprieve you and your sex gave him. Some sense of normalcy, the ability to feel something beyond the crushing weight of loss, that brief moment when he was buried inside you and reaching his peak that the rest of the world fell away and he existed on a plane where nothing bad had ever happened to him and he’d never done anything to deserve it. 

He tried to pretend like that release is all it was. But then there were moments where he couldn’t deny that it was more. The time where he passed you on the street and your eyes met his and he wanted to go talk to you, to see why your eyes seemed dark and sad, but there was a FEDRA guard watching you from the corner and he couldn’t risk it, not for either of you. The time he showed up at your door and heard yelling and he pretended to be a neighbor to intervene. All the times he held you as you fell asleep nestled against his skin, soft and beautiful and trusting, all things that should have been driven out of you in the QZ. All things you should never have been with him in the first place. 

He swallowed those moments, tried to not let the fear and panic they sparked inside of him take over. The last time he loved someone, they died. The last time he loved someone, it almost killed him. He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t risk it. 

But here he was, at your door again, anyway.

He tried to stop himself from knocking but all it did was make his hand stutter before he did what he always did: wait for you to let him in. 

“Joel?” You opened the door in an oversized t-shirt and boxers, looking groggy. “You’re back.” 

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him inside, pressing your body against his, burying your face in the hollow of his throat and he let himself breathe you in, remind himself that you were safe. 

“I was so worried about you,” your voice was muffled in the wet fabric of his shirt. “I heard some things from people at the gate and…” 

“The gate?” He frowned, pulling back from you. “The hell were you doin’ down there?” 

You looked at him, your lower lip going between your teeth, fingers twisting on themselves. 

“What. Were you doin’. At the gate.” 

“I heard something at work,” you said quietly. “About a patrol getting overrun by infected and… I wanted to see if there were signs of other people getting hurt, I’m sorry, I couldn’t just sit here and wait for you and not know…” 

“You can’t do shit like that,” he said roughly. “It ain’t safe, your fuckin’ husband is always looking for a reason to make your life hell, he would have me and Tommy killed if he knew about us, you can’t just…” 

“I know.” 

“Then why’d you do it?” He smacked his hand against the tabletop, making you flinch, hating himself for scaring you even for a moment. “I know you fuckin’ know better!” 

“Because I care about you!” You yelled, your voice thick. “Is that such a crime?” 

Joel crumpled at that, shoulders slouching. 

“That’s…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That ain’t what this is, honey, you know that.” 

“I know,” you said again, voice soft. “I’m not expecting anything from you, Joel, I know better than that. I just… I’m not just going to pretend that you’re nothing to me. Life is too short for that.” 

His heart thudded against his ribs, so hard it felt like a bruise. 

“I can’t…” 

“I know,” you whispered, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “It’s OK. I know.” 

He should have turned to leave then, he was smart enough to know that. But your hand was soft on his skin, your body was warm next to his, your eyes were welcoming and understanding in a way that nothing else had been since he’d lost the only thing that mattered. 

So he kissed you.

It wasn’t something that was soft and romantic, nothing like what you deserved, nothing like how he would have kissed you if he’d known you before. Instead it was fierce, devouring, harsh enough that he knew his stubble must be scratching your skin and he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting more of you. 

You tugged him back toward your bedroom, Joel stepping out of his boots as he went. He dropped his pack on the floor and tugged your shirt up and over your head, casting it aside. He ran his hands over your bared skin, your flesh pebbled where the cold, wet of his shirt touched you. He pulled that off, too, before he could do anything that hurt you, even for a moment. Christ knew you had enough of that behind you, the look on your face when he’d lost control just a minute before already a scar in his mind, adding to the scars on your skin from your marriage he wished he could go back and stop. 

You undressed each other quickly, desperately, and he all but threw you on the bed once you were naked. He followed you there, shedding the last of his clothes before crawling up your body, his finger tracing your slit to spread you open just enough that he could get his thick, hard cock inside. 

He should be more careful with you, he knew that. But he didn’t have the patience and you’d never, even once, asked him to slow down or be gentle. So he pushed himself inside with one sharp, hard stroke, making you gasp and arch beneath him as he groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt. You whimpered as he stilled deep inside, adjusting to how you held him, fighting to keep from coming too quick because you felt too goddamn good but he couldn’t waste it, not this fast. 

“You’re OK,” he panted, his mouth against your shoulder. “You can take it, baby, know you can, take it so well.” 

He felt you nod against him, your hands trembling as they went to his back, holding him close. 

“Just take it,” he said as he started to fuck into you, caving to his baser instincts and letting himself have you the way you seemed so willing to give yourself to him. “Just take it, honey, just let me… let me…” 

Your hips rolled to meet his, your nails digging into his skin. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you whined against him. “Fuck, I missed you, you feel, you feel, I…” 

He kissed you, swallowing your babbling before you had a chance to complete your thought. He couldn’t hear what he was afraid was coming, a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross. There was so much he couldn’t give to you, so much that he knew you deserved but was too selfish to give you up so you could find it. 

But fuck, did he wish he could give you that. In another time, another place, another reality entirely, he could. He knew that. In some other world, one where humanity wasn’t gone and his daughter was still breathing, he would give you everything. In that world, he would love you. He would open your car door and share inside jokes and care for you in a way no one else could. In that impossible world, you and him lived in a little house with a garden out front and a spare bedroom where Sarah stayed when she came for a visit because she would be an adult now, with a life of her own instead of forever frozen at 14. In that reality, you were his in every way. His ring was on your finger, his roof over your head, his baby in your womb. He wouldn’t need to hide it then, wouldn’t need to tiptoe around FEDRA, wouldn’t need to be afraid of what loving you might mean. He could fuck you until you were full of him, so full that you carried part of him inside of you for months, your body growing and changing with it and then no one would ever question that you were his, fucking his. 

Your pussy drew tight around him as your fingers wound tight in his hair. Your nipples were hard against his chest, the plush of your breasts pressed to his front as your thighs tightened around his hips. 

He pulled his mouth from yours to kiss and suck his way down your neck to your chest, pressing himself deep inside you and letting himself pretend - just for a moment - that the reality he occupied was one where he could have you, really have you. That the two of you were in a cozy bedroom with furniture he built for you with a room a few doors down that you’d already started looking at cribs and changing tables to fill it with. 

“Gonna come,” you panted, your hips stuttering against him as he pressed inside, forcing the head of his cock against the soft, tender place deep within you. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna… I… I…” 

He was so close to his peak that he almost wanted you to say it. He wanted you to say it while he came deep inside you, leaving himself there so it could take, so he could watch you grow his child and take care of you through it, so he could take care of both of you after. Claim you so thoroughly that when you were in the QZ there was no question that you were his, not with his baby inside you and his arm around your shoulders. 

He wanted it. He wanted it so bad that, in that moment with his cock buried inside you as you keened below him, he didn’t care if it fucking killed him. 

Joel came apart when you did, the fluttering of your tight little hole sending him over the edge, the high of nothing else in the world mattering outside of you and the hot clutch of your body swallowing him whole for one glorious moment. 

But, as always happened, he came back down to earth, still held in the cradle of your hips, still breathing the scent of your skin, still lost in the wasteland that was once the world. 

He didn’t kiss you as he pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you, closing his eyes for a moment to keep from looking at you too long. 

“You gotta be more careful,” he said after a moment. 

You were silent long enough that he looked over at you, finding you on your side facing him but staring down at the mattress. 

“I know,” you said eventually. 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he said, his voice gentle. Or as gentle as he seemed to be able to make it now, anyway. “But you know what happened the last time he thought you were seein’ someone. If killing him would fix it, I would, but I can’t kill every fucking FEDRA guard who’d take it out on you and I’m not gonna be the reason you get hurt.” 

“I know,” you said again, looking at him this time. “But I… I just…” 

“I know,” he said it this time, his stomach twisting. 

You just nodded. 

“You deserve better,” he said eventually. “Shouldn’t let me treat you the way I do.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“You should,” he snapped and then sighed, staring at the ceiling again. “Sorry for scarin’ you before. When I hit the table. I… I would never…” 

“I know,” you said, more confidently then. He looked back to you, frowning. “I’m not afraid of you, Joel. I know better about that, too.” 

He was silent again, going back to staring at your water-stained ceiling. 

“Should probably take a break,” he said eventually. “Not see each other for a bit.” 

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you said quietly. He frowned, watching you again. “I know myself. I know how I feel. It’s OK. I don’t expect anything from you. Not even this.” 

His eyes searched yours and he let himself try to reach some other version of him on some other plane, one where things were safe and he was in the bed you shared with him in the home you made together. A version where he could be honest with you and it wouldn’t destroy him. 

“I’d give you more if I could,” he said instead. 

You smiled ever so slightly, a gentle curve to your lips. 

“I know,” you said softly. “Believe it or not, I know you, too, Joel.” 

He let himself look at you for a moment, let that terrifying wound at the center of him hurt where he could really feel it, to feel the horror of what letting himself love you would be. 

“It’s OK,” you whispered as you reached out and brushed his curls back, your fingertip grazing the scar at his temple. “I’ll just love you, anyway.” 

He stayed in your bed that night, lying awake as you slept against him, ignoring the scream of panic at the core of him to run while he still could. He knew it couldn’t last. He knew he couldn’t rest like this, not with you this close, not in this awful place with that awful hurt. But he couldn’t leave you either. Not like this. 

“Oh,” he said the next morning when it was still dark so he could slip back to his own apartment before some FEDRA prick was awake to see him leaving your place. “Almost forgot.” 

He pulled a scarf from his pack, the one thing he hadn’t left at home after this run. It was thick, the knit heavy, a color that made your eyes shine. Not that he had pictured you wearing it with those eyes of yours when he’d picked it up. He held it out to you and you frowned, confused, as you took it. 

“Winter is around the corner and you were cold all the time last year,” he said gruffly. “Don’t want you freezin’ to death.” 

You smiled a little, running your fingers over the pattern knit into the yarn. 

“Thank you,” you said, holding it to your chest and looking back to him. “I really needed this, Joel.” 

He just grunted, pulling his pack on and heading for the door. 

“I’m gonna stay away from you for a while,” he said, trying to ignore the pain in his chest at that. “Don’t want anyone catching on.” 

“OK,” you said, eyes searching his before you stepped close to him and slowly, cautiously, pressed your soft, warm lips to his own. “Take care of yourself for me, OK?” 

You said it like you would say I love you. 

“You, too,” he said. He wondered if it sounded the same to you, too. 

 Staying away from you took work. He wanted to see you, be next to you, get lost in you. But he knew where that would lead and he couldn’t let it, not now, not like this. 

So he stayed away for weeks. He stayed away until the first snowfall of the season in Boston and he made an excuse to go stand outside your job. He couldn’t help it. He needed to make sure you were warm and safe so he stood there and watched you leave, his scarf around your neck, You caught his eye with a small smile as you passed a FEDRA guard and he knew, with sinking certainty, he’d be back at your door that night. 

He just couldn’t seem to stay away from you. 

[risuola]

ENTRY #9 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I know you're lost, please take my hand.

contents: arranged marriage!au, fluffy — wc. 672

a/n: i wrote it before jjk261, let's pretend the chapter never happened oki? oki.

series masterlist

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

He asked and you hummed.

You were looking at him and his eyes were fixed on you — studying, searching, questioning. Despite the faint light of a candle that danced across his features, the intense blue stood out as beautiful as ever and there was hope lingering inside of it, floating on top of the crystalline surface. You touched his face, his cheekbone and nose. You touched his lips. Your gentle fingers were exploring, admiring, because he was a piece to admire.

His features were neutral, almost relaxed, but there was a shadow of vulnerability that the world didn’t see often. Satoru wore a mask in his life, he learned at the earliest age of his life that emotions are there, bubbling inside his chest and that’s where they are supposed to stay, never reaching outside of his heart. He was taught that weakness is bad, that what he feels inside is not for the others to notice. That fear and love are death. But you—

“I see a boy.”

—you made him want to push the doors that for nearly three decades of his life were closed shut and very carefully locked away. Meticulously, you made your way through the difficult labyrinth of his personality and knocked, and pulled the handle, and rung the bell. You got there and stood, tall and confident, waiting for him to open, determined to see what’s inside.

And he let you.

“I see a boy who’s lost. Who cares so much about the others and so little about himself. Someone, who despite the fearless exterior is petrified to feel, to attach himself to someone, to open up and be vulnerable and weak. When I look at you, Satoru, I see a man who’s carrying a baggage of very difficult events that no person should carry alone and yet, he’s too stubborn to allow anyone’s hand to help him,” you were talking, letting your thoughts out and he was listening. Those eyes, full of blue and sparkles, were fixed on you, on your eyes and lips. He kept your hand to himself, brushing idle circles over your wrist and holding you near his face where your fingers were soothing his skin. “I see a boy that craves touch and love, longing masked as indifference and wit.”

“Perceptive, aren’t you?” He mused, but despite the teasing comment, his voice was soft and gentle, barely above whisper.

“I also see a sweet tooth like no other.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” His chuckle vibrated against the heel of your hand where he pressed his lips. “So, that’s who I am if not the strongest? A lost boy in need of attention?”

“To me, you are Satoru. You are my husband who blushed and got flustered each time I as much as brushed my fingers against you. Who got so lost in your own infinity that a simple touch startled you.”

“I can’t help but feel like you’re teasing me right now but I don’t mind it,” he said, nuzzling into the warmth of your hand and then, his arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you closer until there was no space between you and him.

He exhaled and relaxed, securing his grip around you and he melted with his nose against the top of your head, in your hair. Your breath tickled the bare skin over his shoulder, your fingers found the lines of his back and he wanted more. Satoru felt a rush of warmth shot throughout his body, he could smell your skin, a scent of the tastiest of desserts that filled his nostrils and it sent a shiver down his spine.

You felt perfect in his arms. As if you were meant to be there and your frame was carved out by gods just so you could fit against him like a piece of puzzle.

“You make vulnerability seem less scary,” he whispered into your hair and you hummed softly, allowing him to continue. “And I’m grateful for it.”

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland@ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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

words: 7.1k

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

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

read on ao3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She rides it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long was I out?”

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

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

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

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

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

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

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

[heartfullofleeches]

angel darling whos a bit disconnected from modern terms walking up to c.c and saying "yas girl slay. so cunty girlypop" with not contexr because they saw it online and thought it was a normal compliment

Yan Incubus + Angel Darling blurb

-

The human world is such a fun and interesting place.

Everywhere you look, you learn something new. Things have changed so much since the last time you interacted with the mortal realm, but with the help of the kind demon you met during your travels you've had an easier time at processing everything at a beginner's pace. Your superiors always warned you to steer clear of his kind, but he hardly seemed like a threat. Not only had he given you bed and board, but as an added gift for staying away from humans as he instructed the demon had given you a cellular device to use while he was away.

There was a lengthy list of restrictions on the device, his number was the only one you could call under these boundaries, but that hardly put a damper on your fascination with it. You haven't seen one of these since they were just buttons and dials attached to a cord on the wall. It's amazing how much human technology has advanced in such a short time. Regardless of setbacks you're learning new facts about the modern world left and right, and you owe it all to your new companion.

You felt as if you owed him for his kindness, despite him insisting your company was payment enough. If that truly was the case, what better way to thank him than with gentle adulation using words you've picked up during late night binges scouring the internet. He always teases you for your "grandma speech" when you've complimented him in the past, despite the flush of his cheeks reaching his ears everytime. You wonder what his reaction will be when you call him by terms more fitting to the times.

C.C poses in front of his mirror - balancing on his toes as he bends to get a better look at the curve of his skirt over his rear. "So what do you think, babe? Am I cute enough for your first night out on the town?"

It's about the sixth time he's changed his skirt alone, but you think he's looked lovely in all of them. Nevertheless- it's your time to shine. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back as your eyes meet his from the mirror.

"Slay, Queen - you are serving so much cunt, girlypop."

C.C blinks - expression drain from his face. "What?"

"I said - Sla-"

"No, I heard what you said. Where did you pick up that kind of language?"

"Aside from you, online, I suppose."

C.C rounds the side of the bed, extending his hand with a few dramatic gestures forward. "Gimme your phone."

"Huh?"

He huffs and leans in close. "Now, Y/n."

"Have I don't something to upset you?"

Eyes flashing red, C.C grips your shoulders - hissing through his teeth as he speaks. "You aren't supposed to say things like that. You're supposed to call me beautiful or "a grace among man" or any of that other cute dorky shit you normal call me."

"Oh.... my apologies. I didn't mean to offend."

C.C sighs, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. "No.. it's alright, I just really like what you use now. It's cheesy, but it's you and you are the most adorable your God ever had a hand in creating." He kisses your cheek, lips curled into that mischievous grin he's known for as they draw up to your ear. "But - I'll gladly be your Queen any day so I don't mind if we keep that one.... I'm still blocking the sites you picked the rest of those words off of."

[bogleech]

Is there more info available somewhere about the underlying game system used for the Mortasheen book?

Since it was created by another person, Morgan Mullins, he has the final say on when the full system is formally released to the public. The kickstarter backers have now seen it, but I don't have the go-ahead to put it out there for anyone else yet! Some things I can summarize though:

Player characters are built around the concept of being a "scientist" of some sort, so while there's various ways for you to engage in battle yourself, your stats are a little more oriented toward roleplay and intellectual qualities. Since you're a mad scientist in a world of horror tropes, you do have a stat that basically translates to "sanity," but you need to keep yourself eccentric and avoid "going sane."

Players form a "think tank" together with a laboratory lair (which can be mobile) and work towards an overall goal, which can easily be your typical RPG quest plotline if that's what you want to do (uncovering ancient secrets, running dangerous errands, defeating epic threats) or just actually being a bunch of scientists, ie you all agree it's imperative you catalog the fungi of a newly discovered cave or dig for fossils or test the acidity of various rocks. The setting is enough of a deathworld that this will still constantly put you in all sorts of hideous danger that only your monsters can get you out of.

Monsters are made out of body parts, each with their own endurance, and each body part can have ability blocks attached to it that constitute a single ability, so a monster with a scorpion-like stinger would have a "stinging tail" part with a set of blocks that basically mean [does damage][adds poisoning][extended reach] and so forth.

The same ability blocks that form monster attributes and attacks can be applied to "gadgets" you and your monsters use, as well as "modules" that customize your lair.

A major aspect of gameplay is "Scanalyzing" everything you encounter, which is how you learn new ability blocks and eventually put together the complete genome of a monster you want to replicate. Collected data is also the setting's "money" system. As for the type of stuff I'm supposed to keep under wraps for now, I can say there's some things you do with die rolls and various mechanics that playtesters have really loved, and as far as I'm aware have never been done in another game before.

[gothamdwellings]

How they are as exs! ~ Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roy Harper, Kate Kane.

Warnings: Mature! Mentions of stalking- no smut but still 18+ as always! Infidelity? No gender is mentioned for reader, but it may be insinuated reader is afab. Reader is insinuated to be oblivious to the crime fighting career. Bad grammar bc I suck

Dick Grayson is the type of ex to plan things out. He wants to get back with you, he really does. He’s changed, he promises! To show you how much he changed he convinced Wally to invite you to the annual cookout and Barry’s. Bruce didn’t attend, but he sent Dick in his place, and it was the ideal excuse to get his arm around you again. You’d get there and huff, seeing the raven-haired man throwing his arm around your mutual red-haired best friend. You’d only say hi to Wally, even using his full name to indicate you were upset. Soon Barry would come to ease the tension, the man could read a room! After a few beers you’d be open enough to talk to Dick, and his honey-sweet words and charming gestures would overtake you. By the end of the night you were in his lap around the campfire, and he was casually kissing your lips.

Jason Todd will text you, every so often. You swore his number was blocked, you swore the last five numbers he used were blocked, but he’s simply smarter than that. Using texting apps to message you, keeping his messages to you hidden from the world. His text come at the worst time. You’re at work, focusing hard on your task. Then it pops up, on the phone next to you that is supposed to be in your personal bag. You just needed a calculator, and now your heart is racing with both anxiety and excitement! You couldn’t lie, you missed him. Your current boyfriend couldn’t touch you the same, whisper those sweet nothings that made you feel like a goddess before her lost loyal disciple. You responded with great enthusiasm, and he replied with the same energy. Slowly, though, guilt and memories of the past seep in. His immaturity, his mommy issues, his abandonment problems. How clingy, manipulative, and mean he could be- the illusion all comes crumpling down, and soon you find your fingers reaching for the block button. Don’t worry, in a few months you’ll get another message. It’s been two years since the breakup—

Roy Harper is more toxic than the other two. He uses dumb excuses to run into you, going to the same bank, grocery store, gas station. He knows your area, he knows your car and your friends homes. He stalks you, a little bit, but will never be caught. He’s too smart. He’ll tug on your heart strings, messaging you on social media to send you pictures of his cat. (I believe Roy is a cat man.) he’ll say something dumb like ‘we miss you, baby.’ Just reading those messages makes you putty. You’ll persist, and he likes that about you. He’ll send you a gift on your birthday or any holiday you celebrate. He’ll ask you to not block in in a card attached, and soon he’ll be able to see your status again.

Kate Kane and you met at a friend’s party. Having been circling the same group of friends, running into the red haired woman was rather common. Bonding over childhood trauma and her father’s crazy wife. It was fun to meet someone who understood the struggles you went through. When Kate cheated on you, and it was plastered in the front page of all the queer gossips magazines and other social medias. You learned from one of your mutual friends, but the evidence still hurt. You blocked her, and washed your hands clean. Months later she is at your apartment door, stumbling over her words. Her makeup is smeared from crying, and the urge to shut the door in her face is overwhelming. She sobs about how she loved you, and it was a publicity stunt to cover up her father’s own cheating scandal. It’s hard to believe, but when she reaches to kiss you, you don’t stop her.

[escapismblue]

literally blame @neometalsilver for this but here’s how fucking unwell I am about Sonic being Tails’ parental unit.

context: this is using my own timeline of the games/headcanons so yeah. if shit doesn’t register as canon refer to that.

ANYWAY-

Sonic just found a kid when he was 11 while living in the woods and took him in because what was he supposed to do? he’s not a social person, he doesn’t know how to keep friends, but that’s a kid. a scared kid that needs someone to look after him. he doesn’t think he’ll do a great job, but he has to at least provide the kid food and safety. at least until he can figure out what’s best for the kid.

he’s lucky Tails is a genius and can already read and write because he can’t talk. he doesn’t want to. the sound reverberates in his head and makes him sick he can’t talk. Tails is okay with that though. he reads whatever Sonic hastily writes on paper and he learns sign language faster than Sonic had.

food’s already tight. it’s hard to scavenge and Sonic can only steal so much food without locking himself out of every town or village on the islands. he’s already malnourished as hell himself and now he has to find more food.

Sonic eats even less. he has to. Tails is 4, Sonic is 11. he can deal with less food. Tails is growing and even though Sonic can’t run as much because he’s so tired. his metabolism eats through whatever food he manages to eat for himself. his body hides it though. he looks fine and Tails is looking better and the kid is okay and that’s. enough.

Mighty and Ray meet up with Sonic again and Mighty sees Tails and He Knows. because that’s what he did. Sonic doesn’t know what to do when Mighty gives him a look that’s knowing because he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he sure as hell didn’t know he and Mighty were still friends because he doesn’t know what friendships even are.

Sonic doesn’t understand people. he never has. he doesn’t trust people all that much. he can work with people when necessary but that’s… that’s all. people are scary and cruel but god there’s this kid that’s looking up to Sonic and maybe. maybe he should try and believe the world is good because he wants things to be good for his kid.

his kid?

the kid. he’s taking care of Tails but he’s not…

he “borrows” books from the library to read them. to teach himself about the world he’s bared himself from. he reads all the lessons kids are taught. he learns how the world works and then teaches Tails and sure he could just give the kid the books because god the kid is smart but he needs Tails to believe that he is capable.

Sonic needs to prove to Tails that he is reliable. that he’s gonna be there and get them out of whatever they get into. or whatever Robotnik forces them into.

he will do what he has to.

but he’s so scared. he’s not used to people relying on him or being attached to him. he’s so scared of that attachment he wants to run he has to be alone, alone is safe but Tails is there and he’s sleeping and he’s cuddled up to Sonic and Sonic cannot and will not be like the cruel adults that exist just to make his life worse.

when Sonic 2 happens he’s so proud of how capable Tails is. he’s not that nervous, Tails is doing great. sure, he doesn’t love Tails being dragged into stuff like this but it’s okay. it’s okay because Sonic will always be there to take the hit if Tails doesn’t dodge in time. and that’s fine. he’s a kid and learning. he can be clumsy. Sonic’s sturdy anyway.

when they meet Knuckles, Sonic is glad that the echidna seems to take a liking to Tails as a sort of older brother figure and it reassures Sonic that Tails would still have someone. Knuckles is not like Sonic, he is not going to take care of Tails like he does, but he's a protective figure, Sonic doesn't have to worry as much if he needs to be alone. which god he does. his skin is itching.

he loves Tails but he is itching to run.

when they move away from the islands, Sonic is quick to make sure Tails has shelter. he forges whatever he has to so that everything can be in Tails' name. both house and workshop. all of it. they're Tails', not Sonic's. Sonic can't have a house. he's been living in the woods so long that living in a house is so scary to him. he can't.

not yet.

when Shadow dies, Sonic mourns. death is not a foreign concept to him, but Shadow's sacrifice strings. Tails falls ill not long after and Sonic takes care of him. Tails has a high fever and in his delirium calls Sonic dad.

dad.

dad.

Sonic is aware of his own mortality, he almost died when he was 8/9. Shadow's death doesn't make him realize he will die someday, but it along with that keyword makes Sonic realize that when he dies he will be orphaning a child. his death will affect other people. he's not just some kid in the woods anymore. Tails will mourn like he does when he does.

Tails will be alone again when Sonic dies.

it doesn't matter how many of Sonic's friends take on a role in Tails' life, Sonic will be abandoning the kid in death. the thing he promised himself he wouldn't do. but what can he do? he's going to die young. it's only a matter of time.

he weeps amongst the trees. he is helpless to do anything besides prepare the kid.

things go on as normal. more adventures, more fights, more injuries, more fussing. it’s as normal as it can be. and sure maybe in the back of Sonic’s head he’s constantly trying to prepare Tails for when his only parent is going to leave him, but it’s minor. it’s fine.

when Sonic finds Emerl on that beach he knows the feeling that fills his heart. he knows that he’s gone from one kid to two.

everything about raising Emerl is rushed and a little different, but Sonic’s never had a normal experience raising a kid. weird is his home base.

there are a couple moments that get Sonic’s anxiety pumping. when Eggman says he has both Emerl and Cream hostage Sonic can feel the fear fill his veins, but of course Emerl gets both himself and Cream out of the situation. that’s his kid.

and it warms Sonic’s heart when he sees Emerl and Tails interact. something about Emerl brings out the childlike qualities of Tails and it’s endearing and so so heartwarming.

but nothing stays good forever.

Sonic had a choice. the world or his child. it wasn’t fair. but he couldn’t let Emerl destroy the planet. if only because he couldn’t force Emerl to deal with that amount of guilt. that wouldn’t be something the robot could live with. he prayed that he would be lucky and that Emerl would survive but…

“This was Gerald's final program... Should a weapon go out of control, the weapon will terminate itself...”

stupid fucking Gerald programming a self-destruct into a being with thoughts and feelings. stupid fucking Eggman gloating as if he won. as if this was something this was something to celebrate. stupid fucking Robotniks. stupid fucking world.

he didn’t regret the burning hot rage that took his over. he didn’t regret regret breaking Eggman’s jaw. he didn’t regret letting the dark energy blind him. he was blinded by tears anyway.

and god, Tails sounded like such a kid when he asked if Emerl would come back if the world was peaceful and Sonic couldn’t crush a kid’s hopes. especially not his own. his only. Sonic could barely keep it together as he agreed with Tails.

he made Tails stay the night at Vanilla’s house, too heartbroken to comfort the kid. tomorrow. he would do it tomorrow. when he had time to grieve on his own first.

turns out grieving was fighting with Shadow until they were both crying. Shadow lost his last connection to the Ark and Sonic? Sonic lost just about the worst thing he could’ve.

it wasn’t fair.

Sonic didn’t mean to be so much more protective of Tails going forward, hell of any kid he interacted with, going forward he just… he could deal with a lot of things. he had been through hell and back. pain was something he had learned to accept as part of his life. hell, maybe part of him would be lost without it. but he couldn’t lose Tails. for god’s sake if he was doomed to an early grave why was it so damn hard to have his kids outlive him?

he noticed Tails starting to doubt himself and that’s the last thing he wanted, Tails was so much better than him in so many ways, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t get over his fears.

was having Tails alive more important than him having a good self-esteem? Sonic was so lost. he had no frame of reference. Sonic had never had parents. no one to look after him. to show him what to do or what not to do in raising his own. he wanted Tails alive but he didn’t want Tails to have a miserable life. how was Sonic supposed to show Tails that he was more than capable without risking the kid’s life?

he didn’t know.

he tried but everything kept getting worse and Sonic didn’t know what to do and-

6 months of torture gave him plenty of time to think. too much time, really.

Sonic thought about plenty of things. but his mind always went back to golden fur and blue eyes. was Tails okay? sure, Sonic ran away a lot to do his own things, but never this long. had anyone taken up on taking care of Tails? did Tails blame himself? he shouldn’t. he’s just a kid.

safe to say he was not happy when he heard that Tails was missing when he got back. he was already upset with his boyfriend, and now his kid was just alone in an active war zone. Sonic knew Shadow had probably watched the kid from a distance but that wasn’t enough. Tails was 12 for fuck’s sake!

Sonic kept up the smiles, of course he did, but it only reinforced that Tails would be alone when Sonic actually passed and that… maybe Sonic was more mad at himself than anyone else.

or maybe the cruel workings of Fate. but no… that couldn’t be it. Sonic had defied fate before. but…

he didn’t know what he was mad at anymore. it didn’t matter.

Tails was in his arms again and maybe, just maybe, Sonic would teach Shadow about parenting.

just in case.

[deadboyfriendd]

Volare (Remastered)

This is for you, Jo @jo-harrington . I love you <3

Eddie was gentler with you, fingertips dragging down sides with the softest form of reckless abandon. The sweltering heat of the midwestern summers weighing on your bodies hot and heavy in the baking orange glow refracted over darkened water. The bedsheet beneath you is ironed by the steam of teenage awkwardness dissipating from the body– kisses and touches growing less awkward and more tender, as if he knew that they were now supposed to be registered instead of received. 

His buckle made impressions on the inside of your thigh, metal warmed against the plush soft skin. The grass beneath you danced its wavering dance, a sway that welcomed the coolness of the breeze over the exposed expanse of your back, gracing the overlaying flesh in a ritual of human intimacy. 

Songs of, oh, God’s and small giggles composing intricate tincture waltzes– a gathering drum backing and an underlying hum of soul surrounding your form. You can feel the dirt on your back, his fingers unwrapping you from your cloth confines and introducing you to his home like an heirloom– a home in which he himself haunted.The palms of your hands felt the smooth surface of stone beneath skin, and the dewy droplets from his own flesh dampened them with a waxy residue.

He couldn’t decide if you were still human. You felt human, but the way you were in front of him– celestial and heavenly. There was no way you could be. Your quick, sporadic breath rolled humidity out onto his neck, arms folded over you in fluid angles, a flash of teeth and a breathy laugh. No, he was right, you had to have been an angel. 

+

He couldn’t help but to laugh as you plucked the cigarette from his lip, giving him a chide, “Y’know, these things’ll kill you.” before placing it into your own lips. 

He took it back from you, placating a long drag and a smooth french inhale. Showing off. 

“Yeah… so I’ve heard.” He paused for a moment, taking you in.

Looking into his eyes was a mirror reflection of all of the best parrots of yourself– everything you were supposed to be. His skin shone with a pearlescent haze of sweat, soft locks falling over his shoulder. He beamed your image back at you through long lashes and batted yes. 

“I guess there was never anything I cared enough about leaving behind to stop.” 

+

You held him close to your chest, the gathering drum of mumbles and clumsy sentences replaced by the lub-dub rhythm within you, the quiet gasps and scratching of skin replaced by your own melody of whispers into his ear. He sang along. 

Strings of I love you’s and Is this okay?’s replaced harsh staccatos and haste swears, learning the piano pedal overtures of lovemaking, replacing the spoken poetry of fucking.

An almost feline purr escaped the confines of lungs as you stretched your arms over his back, feeling the calf-skin-stretched-over-marble texture of him. You could feel the way life had toughened him through scars and vibrations of proclamations of love in your spine. 

He had never been loved this tenderly. 

+

Your laugh seemed to fill the entire world around him, burrowing into his brain like a botfly. He couldn’t get you to leave, and you ate away and attached to the pink matter within his head until there was nothing left but you. 

He ran with you through the clearing, only slightly wondering how you could move so gracefully as your bare legs scratched almost violently through the thicket and thorn. He could feel it through his own jeans, but he chased your hand- in search of the warmth and echoes of his own happiness as you cleared out to the blue lake before you. The hill overlooked an empty dock. 

He didn’t care about the way his own legs throbbed, or the way his tar-laden lungs struggled for air, it always felt like he couldn’t breathe around you. 

He pressed his fingers to your back, net yet forceful, but still an invitation into his arms.ou happily obliged, your cool breath wafting over his neck as he shivered. 

+

Toes curled and fingers grasped at the tremendously quiet mouse-rumble between you. Your thighs shook around him, and, as he explored your body tenderly, he silently begged for you to shake and tremble away all of the worries that have plagued him to the bone. Your body a flame igniting his wax candle core and melting his insides. 

Hot tears rolled from your sea-spray eyes and down your Cyprus cheeks, hair blown by Zephyr and a small cry left your birth-of-venus lips. 

To you, he was celestial and grounded all at the same time. You could hardly believe that you could even reach out and touch him. He was spiritual, yet attainable, able to be touched by the human flesh, but almost impossible to be in existence.  

+

His head lay buried in the pillow of your thighs, looking endearingly up at your face as you thumbed through the pages of the novel before you. 

You stumbled over words and paused for kisses in between syllables, and alarming lack of flow within your own space-cadet brain. At this rate, the book would never be finished. You would never see an ending, but he understood this as the only correct way to read from that moment on. 

He could never look at a word again and comprehend it without hearing your voice say it. 

+

He wrote his own history into the book of your life, his fingers flipping through the pages of your body. 

His hands, beginning at your thighs and running up the duration of your being, not only read your words, but studied them. 

His tongue rewrote love back into your lines, but not in the form of quiet mumbles.

He wrote the word "love" into you like fire. He wrote the word "love" into you with only the passion of someone who had seen enough heartbreak to truly know the meaning of the word. 

His words were the color of mulled wine, spilling onto you with intention- he spilled these words into you in the form of art, and soft moans of endearment. 

His tongue began at your neck, but all too slowly traced words that you didn't care to make out down your sternum, across your breasts, and further and further down. 

He spoke the word love in a way that he had never known it.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

i'm not a zvtara shipper in any significant way, but sometimes i can't help but see aang as slightly hypocritical. i get that he managed to let go of katara in CoD, but i don't understand how exactly he let go of her but was still super into her in all of s3. what does "you need to let her go" even means? also, i get that he doesn't want to kill ozai at the end of the series, but what about the times he hurt people in ways that would result in deadly injuries? (i don't hold the end of S1 against him since he was being used as vessel by the ocean spirit, i'm mostly talking about the avalanche he caused on the northern air temple episode)

When Aang leaves the Guru, despite knowing he won't master the Avatar State at all if he left at that point, he did it because he literally ahd a vision of Katara being in danger. When he is letting go of his attachment in that season finale, he gives one last glance at Katara, who is in the middle of a battle, because he knows that the only way to truly help her would be to trust that she will be okay and focus on preventing the Fire Nation from winning.

On the episode "The Awakening", when Aang is panicking and wanting to reveal to the world that he is alive and fight the Fire Lord without a plan, he goes alone. On the day of the eclipse, he kisses Katara, but they go their separate ways in the battle, instead of him being close by in case she needs him.

The "learn to let her go" thing has NEVER been about him no longer being allowed to be in love with her, or even a close friend, and it was never a fully black and white issue either - that's why we see IROH, the guy who lost his son because he chose his quest for power over thinking as parent and thus keeping him away from the battlefield, telling Aang that he is right to choose love above everything. Why we have Katara be the one to literally bring Aang back from the dead. Why the Guru himself explicitly uses Aang's love for Katara as a way to make him strong enough to deal with the grief of losing his people, and why he says "Learn to let her go" not "Forget about her" (there's a reason the cliche of all cliche lines is "If you love someone, set them free" - attachment existing, by itself, it's not a bad thing, but holding onto it ALL the time can get toxic).

Hakoda let his children go when left to fight in the war, doesn't mean he no longer cares or shouldn't care. Iroh let Zuko go in book 3 because at that point he had understood that his nephew needed to follow his own path, doesn't mean he no longer cared or shouldn't have cared anymore. Why is Aang the only one being held to an absurd standard of "If you understood that you can't always be with the people you care about because you got other responsibilities besides just being their friend, that means you're supposed to never want them around even when that wouldn't negatively affect anything"?

As for Aang's supposed "fatal victims" - this is a cartoon that operates on cartoon physics. The Omashu slide/mail system on episode 5 should have left the heroes permanently paralyzed from waist/neck down, assuming they didn't full on die because the human body simply can't survive a fall like that. Firebenders don't burn themselves when practically holding the flame they're generating, nor when they literally breathe fire. We've seen some of the bad guys survive falling down from an airship and hitting the ocean, in full armor, and be completely unharmed.

The show had casualties - but it was always highlighted a fatal injury instead of glossing over it. There's a reason the showrunners were surprised fans ever thought there was even the slightest chance Jet had not died. In a world where people survive absurd stuff, the show suddenly changing the tune to go "Actually this one screwed over some people" is the ONE way to know there actually was a death, and these situations are still the exception, not the rule.

"Oh but Nichya, it was an avalanche!" yes, much like the one in Mulan - a cartoon that is famous for going "Ya know what, the bad guys didn't die despite being buried in the snow long enough that all the good guys left, and only after a major plot event." It's almost like animation does that kind of stuff all the time...

You can't apply real world logic/physics to a cartoon, and it's very weird that the fandom only feels like doing so in the explicit attempt to create a reason to hate on Aang because they don't like that a pacifist remained a pacifist.

[flightfoot]

Miraculous movie review

Just watched the movie. Overall, I'm pretty mixed on it. There were some things I thought it did well and others I thought it was pretty poor at, especially with how the constraints of its runtime meant it couldn't build relationships as well. Ultimately, I prefer the show, though the movie definitely had some things going for it.

More details below the break, warning there will be SPOILERS below.

What I liked about the movie:

It had some really nice music and song sequences, they were my favorite part of the movie! I thought the singing was top-notch, and I loved the visuals they brought out for them, even if it was clearly non-diagetic most of the time. I adore musicals and sadly there haven't been enough of them lately.

The movie was more consistent with its tone and theming than the show usually is. Granted, that's a LOT easier to do in a single movie than in a show spanning 100+ episodes over seven years. They really leaned into the "Marinette has low self-confidence and just considers herself a useless mess who causes disasters all the time, so she needs to learn that she IS capable and heroic."

This movie BELONGED to Ladynoir, specifically with the song sequences with both of them, I adored them singing duets and dancing together.

ADRIEN GOT TO FIND OUT GABRIEL WAS HAWK MOTH AND REALLY REACT TO IT. Gabriel gave a genuine, heartfelt apology for everything, and gave up when he realized he'd been hurting his son. Since this version of Gabriel had only been avoiding Adrien out of grief and hadn't seemed to ever go out of his way to hurt him or subjugate him, Adrien forgiving him worked, I thought. This version of Gabriel jives nicely with most Gabenath fics I've read.

---

What I didn't like about the movie:

While I enjoyed the song sequences the most, they did feel kind of jarring with the rest of the movie, especially since Marinette and Adrien had different voice actors for the singing parts.

Adrien's and Marinette's relationship was barely developed in the Adrienette dynamic. I was actually surprised when Ladybug told Chat that her heart belonged to someone else, given that she'd only had like, two scenes with him as a civilian? And neither one was THAT meaningful. The library scene was nowhere NEAR the level of the umbrella scene.

This movie had beautiful music... for the singing parts. But then they tried to bring out the opening chords of "Careless Whisper" for some bits that were supposed to be romantic and... yeah no, that didn't work at all. It felt like a parody. The show uses its OST WAY better, especially "In The Rain".

While this movie emphasized the Ladynoir dynamic, it didn't actually work for me? It was nice to see them sparring, but I didn't like their actual interactions - mostly because of how Chat was portrayed.

Which leads to a point about Chat: he got done dirty here, with his over-the-top bravado getting to the point of arrogance and it even seeming like he was putting Ladybug down sometimes, with him calling her a "sidekick" several times (which Plagg joined in on for some reason) and a watermelon and while that seems to have been in order to show how his and Ladybug's relationship strengthened and became more playful over time, the shortened length of the movie didn't really allow that to be conveyed well. He was mostly just annoying, and it didn't feel like he actually got to do much in fights. We didn't get to follow him much so there wasn't much reason to get attached to Adrien, either.

Were the fart scenes with Plagg really necessary?

---

Overall I'm happy I watched it, but I wouldn't call it the definitive version of Miraculous by any means. For all its flaws and foibles, I far prefer the show, with the relationships and characters its built, and the creative, intelligent superhero fights it showcases. Just watched the movie wouldn't have gotten me into Miraculous's world, but the show entranced me after only two episodes.

[wntrmelts]

Learning to love someone was tough.

Between keeping up with his duties as a harbinger and keeping his affections a secret, Ajax did not know what was the heavier burden. Getting swallowed up by work and forgetting was easy. Coming back and pretending like he did not see the hurt he had caused was not.

Hidden away in their own little world, his beloved cavalry captain spoke in gentle whispers and lazy smiles. He would nudge his face in the crook of his neck, a loving gesture Ajax did not know how to return.

He hoped that, in another universe, he could dream of titillating banter and stolen kisses where one’s biggest worry was whether the ‘love-me’s or the ‘love-me-not’s rang true.

It felt strange when people said that true love was warm. Perhaps something was wrong with him as he felt himself freezing the longer this went on. As he further approached the core of his affections. His mind told him no, yet he could not help but hold onto that piercing sensation, that feeling, that emotion so unfamiliar to him that it scared him. His frostbitten, barely functioning fingers clutched onto his love, and he accepted that he would shatter upon letting go.

There was something frightening about the mutuality of it all. His brutish hands were machines of war, made to take and destroy, yet he was entrusted with something— no, someone so fragile it left him wondering how someone like him could be enough. It sat with him after every kiss goodbye where he could see the strain in his lover’s eye. It was a growing fear that had become a weight so heavy as it lay upon his chest that he may as well forget how to

breathe.

Breathe in, and breathe out.

Learning to love someone was tough, but Ajax was willing to go through hell if it meant he could love Kaeya.

I think that Childe has a hard time coping with the actual FEELING of love. He was thrown into the abyss at a young age and became a soldier not long after. He recognizes familial love but romantic love is new and scary to him.

~~~

OKAY so this was a short threadfic I had written out for Twitter but I liked it enough to post it here. I also had some headcanons and explanations that I posted shortly after so HERE THEY ARE (copy pasted):

He's never had the chance to learn how to love and be a teenager and the abyss has definitely messed him up. Although he is good at masking, I think he struggles with it internally. (I personally like it most if Childe is aware of his flaws and wishes he was normal)

He knows how he's 'supposed to' express it according to societal standards but I feel like he has a need to express it differently that he logically cannot do.

My man is all about fighting and violence. You can't convince me that this doesn't affect other parts of his psyche.

Kaeya on the other hand HAS experienced love but is unwilling to receive it. He is afraid of getting hurt after getting attached to something again, especially after he has come to terms with the possibility that he will always be alone.

Once you actually get through to that man, I think he gets super clingy but doesn't like to outwardly show it or communicate it. He'll pretend he's okay with being apart, but he's a liar!!!

Kaeya in my head is a self-fulfilling prophecy and has probably (subconsciously) attempted to make people leave him to prove to himself and others that 'he is not worth it' since everyone always leaves him.

So I gotta add that if I ever write Kaeya in a loving relationship ACTUALLY getting broken up with

:)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Did Yves had previous partners? If so how was it? Was it just to check that out of his bucket list? Also we know what he doesn't like but what's a turn on for him?

TW: sexual assault, abuse, drug use, the whole traumatizing shebang

Naturally yes, but it is mostly to survive or against his will. What is a naive, traumatized, drug-addicted, and poverty-stricken kid supposed to do? He still needed a place to stay, a meal to eat, and some decent clothes to wear.

Growing up as the filth on the heel of society's shoes, Yves was very jaded when it came to partners. They either used him mercilessly or he used them, he never truly loved any of them, and neither did they love him. He loved what they had. Be it money, status, knowledge, a giant wardrobe, emotional stability, or a house with heating.

Maybe it's simply divine (un)luckiness. He did not once meet someone who genuinely wanted to take care of him without anything in return. They would forcefully take away his possessions and dignity if he refused to repay for their service, leaving him stripped, beaten, and brutalized on the streets; where he would be more vulnerable to others with nefarious intents.

He had to sacrifice his humanity to climb the ranks, becoming ruthless and terrible. He learned to do it quietly from a mentor who he eventually betrayed, and was betrayed by. You had a fair chance of being stabbed and robbed by him if you met him too early in his life, Yves was damaged enough that he was an unstoppable machine meant to cause as much harm and disorder as possible.

He wasn't a virgin by any means. Yves was the exact opposite of a virgin, forced to use his already battered body to survive and thrive. He does not want to relieve those days by any means possible, he is done with that. Yves is moving on, just like all those who hurt him and who he hurt.

The concept of sex being something loving, special, and enjoyable has been such a unicorn to him. For the longest time, he didn't believe that it was possible. And, if you aren't his spouse, he wouldn't have believed it, ever. Only when he did it with you, did he see a positive, more pleasant side to sex.

Nothing arouses him, really. You absolutely do, but it must be under very specific circumstances and restrictions.

Yves has his reasons why he chose you and why is he permanently attaching yourself to your life like an unkillable parasite. But one thing is for certain, he is not going to let you go through what he did. You will be shielded from the horrors for as long as he lives, and even if he passes on, Yves will have a contingency plan to keep you safe and happy. Whether you believe in the afterlife or not, Yves will watch over you.

And, that is what love is to him too. The act of protecting you from the worst of the world even beyond death.

To have him take care of you even when his physical form ceased to exist.

[seiryuuuz]

just finished watching dorohedoro the other day and omg it was amazing! at first i was very iffy about it because i was unsure if i would like it but when watching it i got hooked the first character that caught my eye was shin! and now he is one of my favorite i love him and if you have see dorohedoro you would know his partner noi who i absolutely adore her and shin mean the world to me when watching i grew extremely attached to them! shin’s mask is so cool i love it i love the heart design of it and most importantly he looks soooo good in it my man shin’s backstory and the way noi and shin met moved me i don’t care her healing his arms while knowing nothing about him and then when noi is training to become a devil they start to get closer and become friends before they’re partners then of course they get attacked and noi is about to get badly hurt and guess who saved the day shin! which ends in him being injured badly injured and it’s a favor return of when noi healed his arms and part of noi’s training is she can’t use her magic for a year and them getting attacked happens three days before she passes and makes it to a year but with shin being injured and her magic being able to heal him she uses it they both sacrifice something for each other their dynamic i love and then in episode eight in current time there’s a chance they may not be partners again and noi gets attacked and shin immediately realizes something is wrong it may have to do with the contracts but i like to be delusional and think otherwise and then after everything happens shin is nowhere to be found so noi goes out searching for him and he gets found of course and shin says he was looking for her everywhere and then they both were able to sign the contract so they are partners again and they looked so happy while doing it and then… “i suppose it’s our destiny to die here together” they move mountains they have deeply moved me i want them happy and together forever i don’t care if you see them platonically or romantically their bond does not compare to any others anyways enough shin and noi rambling but dorohedoro is genuinely amazing the plot is amazing and surprisingly none of the characters are unlikable to me they all have their moments but i feel in the end they’re all likeable and i feel you see a good amount of each character and you learn about them all and you don’t really see it in much media i do plan to read the manga because i cannot wait till season two to see more of it (shin and noi mostly) but if you haven’t seen dorohedoro i definitely recommend and if you have you’re amazing! i need more people to talk to about this though but i don’t have really any so that’s why you guys are getting me rambling! okay that’s all bye you may see more rambles from me who know i actually don’t think anyone cares tbh

[normal-thoughts-official]

so here's my personal theory on how the mal shit is gonna go:

i think mal's been corrupted by shadow, and i think he either doesn't know about it or did it because he felt it was the only way to protect his friends. similar to how he sees money - the more power he has, the more able he is to guarantee that he'll never be in a vulnerable situation (losing those he loves and being unable to do anything) again

either way i think the corruption is more manipulating him than anything. from the way tyril talked this chapter, it sounds like mal has been making a habit of making harsh, risky decisions. we've even kind of seen this when he jumped in front of Valax' glaive. when i saw that i assumed that it was your main LI who does this, but no, it's always mal. i think this is, in part, supposed to show that mal is acting way more reckless than he usually would

the other part is that, obviously, the real reason the shadow didn't hurt him was that he was already shadow corrupted anyway

im not entirely sure what the endgame is yet, but i think that it's the watcher who's responsible for the corruption. i simply don't trust a man who makes his first appearance in Certified Choices Evil Robes, and besides, today's lore tablet pretty much proved that he's taking us in the wrong direction

aerin is going to play a pivotal role in helping mal get rid of the corruption. he's the one person in the world who knows the most about it, and, from his comments about shadow corruption being more complicated than you think, possibly the only one who believes saving mal is possible anyway. also, i mean, he did go through that process

the process to save mal will likely be extremely painful, if aerin's unwillingness to talk about it is any indication

our relationship with aerin will likely influence the outcome, since he will be the key to helping mal. especially since mal has probably been his #1 hater, the main reason aerin would have to care about mal is his attachment to mc. if you don't have a good enough relationship with aerin, maybe the outcome will be different

it will be through this process that we will learn that The Watcher Is Evil, Actually and possibly foil his plans?

it will be so fucking angsty it's unreal and we'll be fed everything we didn't get in the reunion and more, THIS IS HOW MALMANCERS CAN STILL WIN

the haircut is here to stay 😔

[bookskeepers]

the neuroscience of falling in love ★ chapter six

content warnings: angst/sadness. neuroscience jargon. written. little to no actual bokuto. kuroo x reader if you stare at it hard enough.

word count: 1,636

a/n: i know it is not a tuesday or a wednesday but i just remebered i never posted a new chapter for TNOFIL when i posted one for TTTC. bokuto fans time to eat

also please dont judge me for the food choice. tuna, mayonnaise, and pickles is a good combo trust

recipe: 1 can of tuna, liek 2-3 teaspoons of light mayonnase, 1-2 kosher pickles -- cut up the pickles into small chunks, mix everything together, and eat with kettle cooked chips (or eat without chips. also works)

taglist in the comments because i forgot oops

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

Knock. Knock. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock.

The noises come in rapid succession. And they don't stop once they've started.

You know it's one of your housemates -- most likely Yachi hammering away at the door, trying to get you to leave the confines of your room -- but you can't bring yourself to care. It's like the mesolimbic pathway in your brain has been altered to stop working. You're numb.

After all, who wouldn't be numb to the world after finding out that someone viewed them as a dirty secret?

Sure, there wasn't supposed to be anything forming between you and Kuroo. After all, it was a no-strings-attached situation, with both of you satisfying your physical needs.

So... why? Why does it hurt so much? Why do you care if he thinks of you as something that needs to be hidden instead of a person?

You know the answer, of course. At least from the perspective of your major.

In women, sex releases oxytocin. Oxytocin is also the neurotransmitter associated with pair-bonding. You know it's not truly possible to be no-strings-attached with the way the human brain is hardwired, especially if it's countless hook-ups with the same person. You know you were treading a fine line when it became twice, then thrice, then again and again and again with him.

If you dig deep within yourself, through the numbness, you feel stupid. Stupid for letting yourself get attached -- even though you know there was no way of avoiding it -- and stupid for ever doing things with Kuroo. Stupid for not listening to Tadashi and Kiyoko and Yachi when you still had the chance to back out without harming your feelings. After all, Tadashi called it from the get-go, declaring that whatever you and Kuroo had brewing between you two over a year ago was not going to end well.

You're in bed, barely clothed save for an oversized tee and underwear. Your laptop is propped open on your lap and you're doing schoolwork, filling out the definitions of terms you've been learning in neuropsychopharmacology. Yachi's knocking lasts for about a minute before it seems she finally gives up. Well, you thought she gave up until she bursts into your room, and it turns out not to be Yachi at all, but Tadashi.

"Are you alive?" he blurts as he stares at you from the doorway, the light from the hallway illuminating him. There's evident concern in his eyes, and he has one hand on the doorknob and another with a plate of food.

You return his stare with a listless one, unblinking and silent. You find yourself wishing it was Yachi who had been knocking, because she wouldn't poke and prod at you until you gave her answers.

Tadashi strides over to the foot of your bed, taking your laptop from you -- perhaps to provoke a response, but you don't give one -- before setting it on your desk. He hands you the plate of food. "Eat."

You take it, staring at the nourishment piled on top of it. Kettle-cooked chips, tuna mixed with mayonnaise and pickles, and an apple. Some of the most basic comfort foods for you. Leave it to Tadashi to know what meal to whip up for someone who's feeling down.

The uncomfortable, tense silence persists as you lift one chip, scooping a bit of the tuna mix onto it before taking a bite. The tang of the chips combined with the brine of the pickles, along with the smoothness of the mayonnaise, lends a sense of satisfaction to your brain and your tongue.

You're not sure why the tuna-combination (abomination, as Tadashi and Kiyoko liked to call it) gives you such a comforting feeling. After all, comfort foods are supposed to be high in carbohydrates to ensure that tryptophan, the serotonin precursor, makes it to the brain.

Maybe being a neuroscience major wasn't the smartest choice. Your entire thought process is just analyzing how you think nowadays.

"So," Tadashi finally says, breaking you out of your neuroscience-fueled reverie. "How are you feeling?"

You shrug in response, eating another tuna-laden chip.

He rolls his eyes at you. "C'mon, dude. You have vocal cords. You haven't answered any of our texts or tweets in, like, three days, and I don't think I've seen you leave the room except to shower. Have you even been eating?"

You nod in response. You have been eating, because how else would your brain function? How else would you keep up with schoolwork without the fuel to boost your cognition?

He narrows his eyes at you. "You're probably thinking of brain jargon to explain your mood."

He knows you too well.

"Well, I know how to explain it too," he declares, plopping on the edge of your bed and crossing his arms. "You're sad 'coz Crowhead Kuroo wasn't as into you as you thought he was."

The next bite of your food seems to lodge itself temporarily in your throat; you cough and hack at Tadashi's words, giving him a very, very strong glare. "No."

"She speaks! Told you you have vocal cords." He sounds smug, and you wish for nothing more than to smack the smirk off his face. "If it's not that, then what is it?"

"The acknowledgement of a decreased oxytocin production for the foreseeable future," you deadpan. You consider it a win when his brows furrow in evident confusion, mulling over your words.

After a beat or two pass, he lets out a sigh. "You're a nerd."

Realizing you're not willing to talk anymore, he gets up and frowns at you. "Well, if you need anything, consider checking your phone," he says before he leaves your room, closing the door with a rather ungraceful slam behind him.

☆彡･:*:･★彡･:*:･☆彡･:*:･★彡･:*:･☆彡･:*:･★彡･:*:･☆彡･::･★彡･::･☆

You know it's wrong to be mad at your housemates, but you don't want to deal with their "told you so" attitude that's sure to come out if you leave your room. So you don't. If you excel at anything, it's avoiding your problems.

You use your phone only to contact study participants (Kuroo included) via email instead of text. Do you wonder if they notice the difference? Yes. Do you care all that much? More than you're willing to admit.

With every passing day, the tiny red circle containing the number of notifications next to Twitter, Messages, and Phone only increases. You have to desire to check them. Besides, your phone buzzes for the important notifications, like texts from your principal investigator in regards to labwork and emails.

You go through the motions, too. Attend class, go to lab, fill out data forms for your study, go home, make a quick dinner, shower, retreat into your room, sleep, repeat. At some point during the days, you begin skipping lunch, but never dinner. You find that you must be completely occupied at all times, or your feelings -- which have overcome the numbness holding them at bay -- will overwhelm you.

Nightly visits from your housemates, sometimes Yachi, sometimes Tadashi, sometimes all three, decrease in frequency the longer you go without actively seeking them out. The atmosphere in the house is tense and you're aware it's your fault. You can't bring yourself to do anything about it.

Your carefully-maintained peace shatters within a week of the devastating interaction with Kuroo. You're at your desk, listening to music while you work, when Strangers by Kenya Grace comes on. You manage to make it through the whole song, despite its constant reminder of your own situation. You begin to think that maybe you're recovering from the shock and pain when you succeed at not shedding a tear during its choruses, when the next song makes everything crumble.

Avery Lynch's smooth, high voice echoes in your ears as tears well in your eyes, making you clench both your jaw and your fists. You push yourself away from the desk, trying to take deep breaths to steady yourself.

Isn't it romantic? All the short nights and long conversations.

Line after line, word after word, each one feeling like a punch straight to your stomach. No song better encapsulates your present. Because, as much as you'd hate to admit it, Kuroo had just been a guy who gave you attention at the right time, all that time ago in organic chemistry.

Tears flow freely now, dripping down your cheeks and onto your thighs. Your nails are digging into the soft skin of your palms, and you know the marks will be atrociously red. It feels like air isn't getting to your lungs properly as you weep, taking gasping breaths when the tears ebb enough for you to do so. Despite your attempts to keep your sobs quiet, you know they're loud and that there's little doubt about whether or not your housemates can hear.

It doesn't take long for a tentative knock to sound at the door, before the telltale creaking of the hinges alerts you to someone's presence. Soft footfalls land behind you before an equally-soft pair of arms wraps themselves around you. The scent of vanilla and daffodils floods your nostrils as Yachi begins stroking your hair with one hand while you cry.

You shift positions, burrowing your head into her shoulder as she tightens her hug. "There, let it out," she whispers softly into your hair, stroking comforting patterns on your back.

And let it out you do. At some point during, Tadashi and Kiyoko also enter your room, each one showing you their own form of affection. Tadashi pats your head, while Kiyoko also holds you with Yachi, both of them whispering soft words that fall on deaf ears as you hiccup and whimper.

And there the four of you stay for a while, their presences offering comfort beyond words as you truly, wholeheartedly, let it out.