#my posts seem to be getting shorter and shorter maybe its a problem

[lovehurtsandilikeitthatway]

Temper

Male Yandere Oc x Reader

Woooo, second post in a row!! It seems like a lot of people liked my first ever posted one-shot thingy, so I got inspiration to edit something I had written awhile ago for an oc of mine. Adjusted the writing a lil, added some stuff, all of that. Again, I do not support irl 'yandere behaviour', and if you have anyone who acts this way in your life please distance yourself from them 🙏🙏 Hope you enjoy the one-shot! This one's a lil shorter.

WARNINGS!!: Yandere behaviour, arguing/yelling, (physical) abuse, manipulation, mentions of bruises

“Where the hell were you!? Do you know how fucking worried I was? Do you even CARE?”

He exclaimed right as you stepped into the apartment; not even getting to remove your shoes or put your bag and keys aside. He was standing right there from the very second you opened the door; patiently waiting for you to enter and make the mistake of locking the entrance behind you. His arms were crossed firmly, fingers near digging into his own skin. His dark brown, usually relaxed eyes appeared wide open and red. Almost as if he had been crying. You wanted to comment on it; but you knew better than that.

You should probably be more concerned for your big baby of a boyfriend; but this wasn't the first time he had freaked out like this. Tristan had....a bit of a temper problem. He was the kind of person who'd start a fight over the littlest of things; blowing up and sulking like a little kid when something wouldn't go his way. You were aware that this side of him was brought out from his own insecurities, even if he wouldn't admit it. So, most of the time you'd cut him some slack. After all, you loved him. And he loved you.

“I just went to the store across the street. It's not a big deal.” You argued, feeling your forehead already starting to sweat. It wasn't a hot day today- Hell, it was December. Why were you sweating?

“It is a big deal for me. What if something happened to you? And how do I know that you really went to the store!? How do I know you didn't go to your friend's house again, huh? You sure spend a lot of time with him.” He argued back; the anger and jealousy dripping like poison in his shaky voice . He sounded like a ticking time bomb, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. You could only roll your eyes and sigh before letting down the bag of groceries that was the ultimate proof of your 'alibi', aka the proof that you had actually went to the store and he was, as always, overreacting. “Tristan,” you sighed once again, heavily this time, “Look. at. the. floor!”

With that; you pointed towards the already established store bag filled with a variety of snacks. His eyes followed the movement of your hand. He stared at it for a few seconds in silence; and you knew what that silence meant. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to admit he was wrong; or he just didn't want to. So, you took the liberty of speaking up: “You always do this-” “My point stands anyway.” He clicked his tongue, cutting you off and taking a step towards you. When you took a step back out of reflex, he only got closer. “You still went and didn't tell me! I always do this? You always do this!” “Tristan, you're just-” “NO! You don't get to tell me how I feel.” You were cut off yet again. Your eyes nervously glanced around the room, avoiding his gaze; but him? He was staring at you straight in the eyes, not daring to look away for even a split second. Eventually, he had you backed against the door and himself, and when your hand instinctively found its way to the door handle, he was quick to grab your wrist and lean into you.

You shouldn't be scared right now, you tell yourself. This was a daily occurrence at this point. He'd get upset, be a little aggressive and maybe loud, leave you alone for a bit and then come back. This was just the way he was; temperamental and intense. You loved every part of him; just like he loved every part of you. You chose this. It felt like you didn't have the right to complain about it, when you couldn't force yourself to push him away, grab your stuff and leave. What was meant to be a relaxing night watching movies at your boyfriend's place had turned into yet another draining argument; and all that just because he fell asleep mid movie and you decided to go grab some snacks from the dollar store before he'd wake up.

“You hate me, don't you?” He whispered, “You know that I'm a terrible person, and you just want to leave and never look back. You hate being with me! I know it! I know you do!”

“That's not true, Tristan, please-”

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!”

His grip on your wrist got even tighter. So tight that it almost felt like it'd snap in half any second now. The worst part was; most of the time he didn't know his own strength. Especially when he was lost in anger. But this was Tristan, he wouldn't hurt you. Even if your own self was currently shouting otherwise in the back of your head. You liked to think that you knew him; and that you could predict what would be coming next. He'd sprout some more nonsense and scoff; and then he'd let go and shut himself in his room until you caved in and ran after him.

But your hand was really, really staring to hurt.

“You may hate me but I fucking love you,” And the grip got slightly tighter. “I NEED you, and I don't know what I have to do to make sure you stay, but I'll do it! Tell me, what do I need to do!?” “Tristan-”

And tighter.

“Do I HAVE to yell!? Is that the only way you'll listen!? Do I have to tie you down to make sure you won't leave me or something!? To be the bad guy?“

And tighter. “Tristan!” and tighter, “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!?”

And tighter.

“TRISTAN!”

The sudden yell you let out caused him to stop dead in his tracks; a little shocked as you had never really raised your voice like this before, with this much fear and panic behind it, at least. Even you were a little taken aback by yourself. You never really did well in stressful situations, to be truthful. Your heart would beat fast and your head would start pounding; as if it was warning you that if whatever was going on didn't stop in approximately two minutes, things would go south. You didn't even realise how hard you were trying to pull your hand away from his, but the stinging pain made sure to remind you. He didn't seem to notice. He was far stronger.

Your survival instincts kicked in; and you cracked.

“I'll stay, I never said I wouldn't, I love you. Okay? I'm sorry, I really am-”

Part of you felt ashamed for taking this route, instead of cursing him out and fighting tooth and nail to get him to stop. However, at your state, all you wanted to be was safe; and you were terribly scared that if one of you didn't stop yelling, you'd only add more fuel to the fire.

“You're right, you're so right-” you half sobbed, having half the mind to remember what he was 'right' about, “But please let go, you're hurting me.”

Only when your tears started running down your face and your fake nervous smile began to falter did he realise how sore your wrist had become under his hold. His eyebrows furrowed in worry and he immediately let go; face shifting into an expression of surprise when he saw the redness and bruising forming around it. “B-Baby, I'm sorry-” he stammered, pulling you in an embrace, “I didn't mean to hurt you, you know that, right? I just get so frustrated sometimes and....fuck. Just...just don't ever go anywhere without telling me again, got that? Or better yet, don't go anywhere without me.”

You could only continue crying silently in his chest and nod; hoping that would be enough of an answer for him. You had a feeling that if you dared open your mouth, you wouldn't be able to keep yourself composed and you'd say something you'd later regret. “Good.” He replied, pressing a kiss on your forehead, “Now, I'll go get the first aid kit so I can treat that bruise. Don't move.”

Watching him walk to the bathroom, you realised that the front door keys were no longer in your hand. He'd taken them from you when he embraced you, you figured. Your eyes shifted to the floor; and as you stood there in silence, tears still pouring from your eyes, you couldn't help but wonder.....what was the point of treating a wound if it was inevitably going to be re-opened?

_______________________________________

Thank you reading, hope you enjoyed my writing!! This was a smaller story but I enjoyed re-writing it. It was originally meant to be a character introduction thingy. I've got a lot of ocs, and Tristan is one of them. Idk if I'm ever going to make any other scenarios with him; maybe if people actually wanna see more of him lol. I also have art of him, if y'all ever wanna know what he looks like!! Oh and for clarification, Tristan isn't the same guy from my other one-shot. They're both assholes but not the same person. <3

If anyone has any questions about Tristan, feel free to ask! I love QnAs. (As long as it's not anything inappropriate.)

Word Count: Around 1,440 (I think!!)

[darkfictionjude]

I do like the DIY nature of the IF community, like there's very few coders and from reading a lot of what authors say a lot of their coding is held together with spit and tape, but so long as it ultimately functions, and other people are happy to help or make tutorials and guides. Its an uphill battle but everyone's committed to actually doing it and maybe make the path a bit easier for the next person and I do find that admirable, especially compared to other video game communities where people seem to quickly descend into "Oh you wouldn't get it, read these textbooks first then come back" which is perhaps more fair in more complex games but does seem to turn into esotericism pretty quick.

My issue, I guess worry more accurately is the CoG-ification of IF. There's plenty of CoG games and games in that style I love but I catch myself a lot, and I think a lot of people in the community do this, where if a game isn't the usual CoG blurb: -Customisable protagonist -ROs -Genre fiction I don't even read the rest of the description and just skip it and I worry that the games which got me into IF like Grim Baccaris' shorter games or Galatea etc. I would also just skip. So yeah just a bit worried that's becoming the default for both authors to write and readers to respond to and I feel if I were to write anything which didn't have those features I wouldn't even bother to post or drum up interest on Tumblr and just drop it straight on Itch because I don't think it'd get any traction. But hopefully I'm wrong, and ultimately there is a reason I default to reading CoG style games.

Yeah to me it’s the same problem that’s happening in the publishing industry. Romantasy is huge rn so if you want to make a living you’re encouraged to write those stories even if it’s not something you would choose to do

But there are still readers out there that aim to diversify their reading. I do think IFs without those three points won’t be incredibly popular but there are readers out there who give things a chance you just have to make yourself known to them

[timetravelinghearthian]

Continued thoughts on Hearthian timekeeping.

[Video ID: A time lapse video of the Outer Wilds solar system. The camera is in space and pointed at the sun. The various celestial bodies of the solar system orbit around the sun horizontally across the screen. The video starts and ends just as Timber Hearth begins to pass in front of the sun. The orbital cycle is about 4 minutes long. End ID.]

Timber Hearth’s celestial “years” run into a similar problem as their “days:” they’re best measured in minutes (approximately 4, in this case.) Even worse, as you may have noted, the Timber Hearth sidereal year is noticeably shorter than an average day!

As mentioned in the previous post, biological clocks are more useful for tracking time under circumstances like Timber Hearth’s. And when it comes to time periods longer than a day, a common biological clock is that of a species’ reproductive cycle.

Wait wait wait, before you leave! I said nothing about it being their own reproductive cycle that they use! (More on that in a different post, if ever.) If we’re being honest, following the life cycle of the local pine-like trees seems an easier, safer bet for a headcanon (it’s not my personal one, but we’re exploring here.)

You know the drill: more under the readmore

We already know they tap these trees for sapwine, and if it’s anything like maple tapping, it can only be done at certain times of the year. Now, with maple trees, that timing is dependent on the seasons, as the sugar in the sap comes from stored starches being used to feed the tree as it begins to wake up from winter. Problem: pine trees aren’t deciduous (they don’t shut down in the winter the same way broad-leafed trees like maples do, so there’s no rebound,) and as mentioned prior, Timber Hearth almost certainly lacks seasons in the first place due to its lack of axial tilt. However, a light and temperature-driven cycle isn’t the only one we can follow.

Thing is, producing gametes takes energy and resources, so you ideally don’t want to be doing it all the time (unless there’s some sort of beneficial tradeoff you’re getting, but in general, plants stick with being part-time producers.) Since neither you nor your potential mates are continuously available to reproduce, you’re going to want to sync up your timing across your species so that A meets B as efficiently as possible. Hence, a breeding season (or, in this case, pollen season) that can then be used as a basis for other events in the organism’s life.

(How do they all know when to reproduce at the same time without light or temperature signals? Uh… mycorrhizal networks, I don’t know. Plants aren’t my jam.)

I can easily see Hearthians structuring their year-equivalent around the different stages of life of the trees around them, from pollen season to pine-nut-harvesting season to tree-tapping season.

Of course, now that we have a year kind of defined, there’s the question of “months,” as demonstrated by Hal using that time measurement when estimating how long it would take them to start translating the Inhabitants’ language. The easy answer, of course, is that it’s related to the seasonal cycles mused about above. We’re largely in the great unknown here, though.

(It could be lunar (Attlerock-ar?) The period of time between instances of a new moon is roughly the same as the time loop (~20 minutes.) That puts it at about 3-4 solar cycles. Still small, but maybe we’ll keep it that way to make Hal’s estimate more impressive ::) )

[[Author’s Baseless Headcanon Alert!]]

As alluded to prior, having the Hearthian year revolve around their trees isn’t my primary headcanon. I still feel it plays a role in their timekeeping, specifically by marking their equivalent of spring, summer, etc. (and thus helping define how to divide their year into months.) However, I do headcanon Hearthians as having a breeding season, with that being the big time marker. However, because the cycle is so long, they divide the time between into thirds for a more manageable time frame, leading to a “Before-Hatch-Year,” a “Hatch Year,” and an “After-Hatch-Year,” followed by the next “Before-Hatch-Year,” and so on.

Following some calculations around a largely arbitrary ratio between “make egg,” “egg hatch,” “make egg again,” a Hearthian “year” is about 312 Hearthian “days.” This sounds somewhat comparable to the Earth equivalents, until you remember the previous post where I set a day to be about 20 hours. Doing the math, one of their years ends up being about 260 of our days. So the next time a Hearthian in the MBMP universe tells you their age, take it with a grain of salt.

Col: Seeing the final numbers on the page before me, I blurted out, "What the hell do you mean you're twelve?"

[[End Alert]]

[literaticat]

I’m really really sorry to ask a WC question and I told myself I wouldn’t send this, but… I’m losing sleep over word count woes. I sometimes dream about word count. I’ve read your dracula post, where you write that anything up to 90k in an Upper MG fantasy might be okay. Is this STILL accurate in 2025, particualrly given the slumping MG market/new trend toward shorter titles?

Do you think an 88k Upper MG fantasy will be an instant reject for many agents? My story is tightly paced (I’ve spent months mercilessly line editing/killing my darlings/deleting what scenes I can w/o breaking the story… it was originally 120k). I think the tight pacing will be clear if the agent makes it to the pages/even just the first scene. The query/first 50 pages has been reviewed by an ex-agent turned freelance editor on Reedsy who said the pacing was solid and that the story moves right along (judging by the first 50). But she also said MG should top out at no more than 50k words. There’s just such a huge range/so many mixed opinions. So I’m worried most agents will read “88k” and auto-reject before reading the blurb/pages. Should I put my ‘housekeeping’ paragraph beneath the blurb for this reason? But it won’t make a difference for QM.

Is it ever acceptable to just leave the word count out of the query? But I feel like that might be a worse red flag if it makes them assume its like a 250k doorstopper. But again, if the agent uses QM, it wouldn’t be possible. 

Is it ever aceptable to ‘round’ to say 85k from 88k? How much rounding is acceptable? I’m assuming an agent probably expects some flunctuation if a writer continues revising a manusript after querying. But I also don’t want to straight up lie. I just want them to look at the first page.

I could get the story down to 79-80k by removing a significant sub-plot and I have a version where I did that. But I truly feel it hurts the story, so I don’t necessarily want to send that version. But if it actually would make a difference and increase the already small chance of getting ANY version of my story out into the world, maybe it’s worth it. Would those 8-9k words make a huge difference to the eye of an agent?

(Feel free to toss this if you just can’t with another WC question. I get it. But I felt compelled to type this out. It was oddly therapeutic. Maybe the dreams will stop.)

I was going to roast you mercilessly for asking about word count in the LONGEST QUESTION OF ALL TIME, but then I realized that would be hypocritical since half my answers are the longest answers of all time. Looks like we BOTH have a problem with keeping it concise. ;-)

I hope typing all this got it out of your system.

I do get why authors worry about this. The Word Count guideline is one of the only things that seems firmly within the author's control -- you can't really help it if an agent likes your book, but at least you CAN make sure you've followed every instruction to the letter!

The problem is, I'm afraid there is wayyyyy too much emphasis put on this poor little guideline in author circles. There is ZERO reason you should be stressed out or losing sleep here. Over 3k words? 8k? Come ON. Do you really think an agent really cares about 3k-8k words more or less in a novel-length work? If I'm loving the book and zipping through it, I wouldn't NOTICE 3k or 8k words.

Please snap out of it and listen to me.

I'm going to be super blunt:

NOBODY GIVES A SHIT WHAT YOUR WORD COUNT IS IF YOUR BOOK IS GREAT.

AND IF YOUR BOOK ISN'T GREAT -- IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOUR WORD COUNT IS.

We don't ask for word count because we care about word count. For the most part, neither editors nor agents really care about word count! Surprise! (The exception being certain publishing imprints that have extremely specific guidelines, such as leveled early readers or certain kinds of educational books or certain kinds of category romance, which you would know if you were writing a book like that, if you don't know, that means you aren't!)

We don't ask about word count because we are looking for a reason to auto-reject. It's not a test. Really!

We just want to make sure your thing is *the length of a book* -- it would be a red flag if your word count was so high or so low that it wasn't within shouting distance of the "normal" range, because that tells the agent that you really don't have a firm grasp on what category you are writing or the realities/norms of publishing.

But the "normal range" is very large. And you are firmly within it. So relax.

As to the other part: FWIW, I don't mention word count in my pitch or put it on the front page of the ms when I am sending to editors. It's actually fine by ME if you don't do either of those things, either, as I can see your word count in the QM form. But other agents might feel strongly about wanting it in the query itself , so... whatever. Just round it and put an "approximately" sign if you are worried about it. After all - it's not going to be the same length when it is published, right? IF anyone asks, which they almost certainly will not (because they don't care), you can just say, hey, always revising, exact word count fluctuates, but it's around this. Which it is.

[leaf-sheep]

As much as I appreciate the wonderful people who make sci fi and fantasy sex toys, tongue and tentacle themed dildos always just feel like they're going up against impossible expectations.

Like, the whole appeal of tentacles and tongues (for me, at least) is the prehensile aspect. Something that can not only push its way inside you, but that can then twist around to rub against all the right spots or even grab hold from inside so you can't pull them out...

ANyways. Um. Yeah so like I've seen a lot of dildos that follow this theme that still have amazing detail and do look like fun shapes, but I could never bring myself to get one because it'll never be what I want. I have seen some that are like SUPER long and flexible and those I could maybe be interested in? Those seem like they might have a little more versatility, but still not the full articulation of my dreams.

Although on that note, I do recall videos of some pretty interesting segmented snake-like robots...

Ok derailing this post as I'm writing it to talk about the potential for cutting-edge robotics in sex toys to bring all our dreams of tentacle monsters to life. Horny amateur opinions on robotics below the cut.

So we have these things, which have been around for a while (this image is from this 2013 article). Basically a series of solid links with little motors inside to let them twist into different shapes. I think if you fitted something like this with a silicone sleeve you could probably have something pretty good? The one in the picture looks pretty clunky but I'm sure you could design something with shorter links. Even with the sleeve though, it would still have that really solid core and probably not very pliable. Might be good for some things though, and probably the best for us robophiliacs.

Then we have designs like this. Its an inflatable tube where as air is pumped in, the plastic tube extends from the middle and extends forward. Kind of like those slippery plastic toys filled with goo from the aquarium that seem like they would make good sex toys but really don't? I think this one also works pretty straightforwardly for our purposes. You'd want a decently sturdy material for the balloon part (maybe even make it textured), and you'd want it to be lubricated before extending. That would probably mean extending it, lubricating it, then retracting it so that when it extends again its already good to go. I'm not an expert on how these things are usually controlled but the common use cases seem to be things like going into rubble or pipes, so it should be fairly well suited to extending into an orifice. Unfortunately as far as I can tell they don't have a lot of articulation once they are extended, though they can extend into different curved shapes, so it'd be more about getting filled.

And lastly (at least for this post) we have soft robots. I think the Spiderverse version of Doc Ock's arms took visual inspiration from these. These are usually a soft, rubbery, stretchy material, but they can be articulated in different ways. Some of them use tendon-like sections that compress or pull, others fill with air or water, but ultimately these are functionally the closest to muscles we have in robotics atm (at least to my knowledge). They're also... kind of enticing as they are already. They're naturally soft, and they have a very lifelike motion that I think is really appealing. You could definitely get some fun squirming motions with these.

The next problem would be making them smart, i.e. able to react properly to your movements and to be able to find the right areas automatically. As far as I know, these soft robots are mostly long extensions that are controlled from the base. That's just fine, but there isn't much feedback to the controller about what the bot is interacting with. Ideally, my robot tentacle monster lover shouldn't have to ask me if it's in yet. For the ones that work on water or air pressure you might be able to do something by reading the pressure changes from different sections to let it feel its way around a little bit? But that would still be pretty imprecise and clumsy. I'm not sure what the current state of the field is like right now for small pressure sensors, but that would probably be the best. Alternatively, maybe something like an ultrasound? You'd probably want some little pellets of hard material embedded in the bot tentacle to help it stand out. Don't they have new ones that can provide a proper 3D reading of babies and stuff?

Hmm actually that does sound hot. The machine spreads a cool gel on your belly and presses a sensor to your skin, so it can watch its arms slither inside you, stretching your belly forward almost as if there really was something alive inside... then once it's situated, it starts moving to slide the arms over all the most sensitive places...

Unfortunately I think it might be a little late to switch tracks to an engineering career so I can mad science my way into getting tentaclefucked by a robot and become a slave to my own creation. A tragedy.

[hojetsala]

The bike that rides on the Internet

- my review of the Zwift Ride -

The days get shorter, the weather wetter and colder and every day it becomes more and more of a struggle to get up at the asscrack of dawn just so I can ride my bike to work for a commute of roughly 50k both ways. A thing I usually love doing. A thing I need to be doing to get my cracked marble of a brain to cooperate with me. But now, as they say, I have bike at home. This has been my experience with the bike that now lives in my home.

I went back and forth on wether to get a home trainer quite a bit. I dont have a bike for it, its expensive, I dont have the space, I dont know what to do with it when its summer again, I worry it will make me too lazy to ride outside.

Well, some of those problems I still have.

But it took very little persuasion by friends ("You could get it if you want it") for me to take the plunge on both the trainer and the bike for it. I got the Kicker Core and the Zwift Ride and I have been having a time ever since. Mostly a good time.

Recieving the thing was a bit of a war. It comes in several boxes, two of which weigh over 25 kg and I live on the fourth floor. Alone. Not the Ride's fault I suppose. I did eventually get it up the stairs and set up, where I hit the first real snag.

The chainring was bent. Which I only noticed once I started pedalling and the chain kept dropping off. Searching around online I gathered I could probably return the thing and get a new one, but. 25kg. Fourth floor. Alone. Not to mention the packaging is so complex and huge I dunno how I'd ever get it put back together.

I still tried contacting support about it, which was the next snag. They have an "AI" chatbot with a few rote answers and thats it. No phone number. I wrote an email to support@zwift.com and have yet to hear back. Judging by the forums, this is a common problem. If something goes wrong, you are on your own. That and the lack of quality control (the chainring was definitely not damaged in transit) are the major downsides I found.

Now to the upsides. The online community is really good. I immediately found posts and videos detailing how I could swap out the chainring myself (and find the correct one). It was easy and I learned some new things about bike anatomy. And I felt great about myself. I booked it as a win.

Then I set it up. This was straightforward enough. Bikefitting a bit less so. It comes with a table for your height with suggestions on how to set everything up, but this seems kinda off. Or maybe I just have weird proportions. I am still fiddling with it. But thats ok. Adjusting the height of the stem and the seatpost is fairly easy. Adjusting the reach of the handle bars I find more difficult as they tend to get stuck a bit. But I am managing.

And then I was off!

The Ride itself is remarkably stable and solid. I am quite a heavy person, especially for a cyclist, and never do I feel wobbly or unsafe. This thing is pretty damn bombproof. It's also quite comfortable and the saddle is good for me. I got some clipless pedals for it and that feels great. Very secure, even when I go all out.

For me personally, who has never ridden a home trainer or even a road bike before, there was a definite learning curve. I got a bit of motion sickness at the start from being stationary and looking at the game, but that has cleared up when I pushed through it. I can now go further every time I ride. I feel like I am getting more comfortable in the position. Admittedly, the position is as relaxed as I can make it. I might make it more aggressive as I get stronger on it.

Zwift itself is fun. It's nice to look at if you like the graphics and there is a good variety to the maps. And there are dinosaurs to find. :) I am really getting into the workouts. They are fun, easy to follow, and tough as nails (at least for me). Its also nice to always have other people around! But Zwift definitely reminds you that comparison is the thief of joy. Damn these people are strong its not even funny.

I thought I was comparatively good on the bike, I rode a lot outside this year. Indoor riding is hard. Hard hard. For some reason, on the indoor trainer, I dont coast. Not that you can't, I find that I just don't. I pretty much go full gas, all the time. And no matter how fast you think you are going, other zwifters will blast past you like you are standing still.

When Zwift tells you to "close the gap", don't. It is a trap. There will always be another gap.

But they are quite encouraging too.

Before I got it, I was definitely worried that I wouldnt use the Ride enough to justify the cost. This has not been the case. I find I really look forward to going zwifting and I do it when I can. I am having a great time overall, even if the effort often leaves me pretty wiped out and I might have to watch out not to overdo it. What do you mean I cant do sprint workouts every day of every week? lol.

So for me, it was definitely a good investment, despite the snags. I am having a good time, I now use my daily "Youtube and Podcast" time a lot better, I get to keep riding through the winter. The cost is significant and should definitely give people pause. But I feel like it's not too much for what it is and I am definitely very happy with it.

I still don't know where I will store the damn thing in the summer though.

Cons of the Ride

non existant support by Zwift

very questionable quality control

the adjustable bits can sometimes get a bit stuck

Pros of the Ride

good online community.

very solid and stable

Quite comfortable, and saddle/ pedals can be easily swapped out

Widely customizable to your proportions

Looks snazzy if you like that kind of thing

Cons of Zwift

Graphics are a matter of taste, objectively not the highest quality

The gamification is rather minimal. Pretty much only leveling and occasionally buying new bike bits and cosmetics. Again, taste

Pros of Zwift

Very active community with events going on all the time

good, fun workouts of many different levels

training plans of different levels too

interesting routes with varied scenery

dinosaurs :)

[scienceysideblog]

Science and art and starkid's firebringer

This post feels like it has really been a long time coming and is possibly a little shorter than I would've liked so there may be a part 2 but this is the key stuff.

I have been irritated for a while now by the idea of art vs science because I've never understood why not both? I feel like there are so many things that people try and force to be separate when really everything is so much more complicated than that. The best post I have ever seen on Tumblr is one that said art and science are fucking on the couch. It's not a quote I am able to use in my personal statement to uni but if I could I would because it is something I so strongly agree with and that really has made me think about art and science.

A lot of the art I've created has stemmed from scientific ideas or facts for example I made a piece inspired by the fact that humans share so much of our chemical composition with stars and that so many elements are created from supernovas. Imagination is so key for both art and science, in science maybe it's imagining a solution or an experiment, in art maybe it's imagining what you want your piece to look like or what media you want to use or in both maybe its just an abstract hypothetical idea that is fun to consider but might never actually be created. I feel like science connects every aspect of life and maybe that's just because I love it but because of that it makes so much sense for it to inspire art because life inspires art.

Starkid's firebringer is a musical that I feel highlights these themes beautifully. It suggests it is human nature to create art and to investigate the world and ultimately, I think, it suggests it is human nature to be kind. Zazzalil is curious about the world and this leads her to the scientific discovery of fire but this damages the environment. Obviously this links to the problem of climate change but more broadly it shows that science isn't good or bad it just depends how we use our knowledge. Firebringer really emphasised for me why I want to do science for good. I want to help people and to help the environment and although maybe a starkid musical seems like a strange place to get inspiration, if science can inspire art why shouldn't art inspire science too? The moment of the musical that made me cry is when zazzalil sings to jemilla "this is the dawn, the dawn of our time". This quote also made me think about scientific discovery and how although I feel I tend to criticise humanity often for our lack of care for the environment, lack of action etc. We have made so much progress, scientific understanding has advanced so much and we can do more. The scientists of tomorrow will have so many problems to face but there's also excitement for the things we might discover. And again, maybe it's strange to other people that firebringer is the thing that inspired me to remember this but to me it doesn't seem strange at all; because in my mind creativity is creativity and the art feeds the science and the science feeds the art and I do science to help people and some of those people do art to help people and maybe that helps someone else who does science or who does neither. And maybe we don't have to just be one thing, just pick one thing, maybe we can feel connected to so much and yet like me, still be unable to put it into words because you'd need my life story to explain why I want to study science

And even though it might not be the most acceptable way to put it, art and science are fucking on the couch.

[hergan416]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I got tagged by @afterdeck-ace while I was at a work conference and so I'm only just getting to this now.

This should be interesting because I feel very strongly that my writing has changed since joining the yuumori fandom, and the last time I was tagged in this meme, I was still writing for the One Piece & Yugioh fandoms.

10. The Problem (Moriarty the Patriot, Allou, Rated M(ature), Underage)

It wasn't a problem that he could turn to his brother about.

9. Midnight Stroll (Moriarty the Patriot, Louiliam, Rated E(xplicit), Rape/Noncon, Somnophilia)

Louis wakes to a loud noise as the door to his room opens too quickly and slams against the wall. A muffled thud and a grunt follows, as the door ricochets off the wall and hits the intruder on the rebound.

8. Courses (Moriarty the Patriot, Allou, Rated E(xplicit), Underage)

“It's such a waste of a pretty face. I have heard the only one he willingly serves is that orphan tramp he calls a brother.”

7. No Limits (Moriarty the Patriot, Sherlouis, Rated E(xplicit), Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dubious Consent, Under-Negotiated Kink)

The guilty conductor was carted off the train at Grantham. And Sherlock’s words still burned in Louis’ ears.

6. Date Night (Moriarty the Patriot, Bondson, Rated T(een), Canon-Typical Violence)

There was a flash of silver. One of the targets had a gun. One of the targets had a gun and it was trained on Fred.

5. Starvation (Moriarty the Patriot, Allou, Rated M(ature), Underage)

The problem has only grown exasperated.

4. The Depths of a Mountain (Moriarty the Patriot, Sherlouis, Rated T(een), No Archive Warnings Apply)

“Come with me.”

3. Day 1: Fashion (Moriarty the Patriot, Sherlock Holmes and many, willsherbert, Rated M(ature), No Archive Warnings Apply)

A young man sat cross-legged upon the matted gray carpet of the library. It appeared he had moved a perfectly usable coffee table from its position between several overstuffed cloth chairs– missing backs and arms, as was want for public areas on campus– to take its place. He had spread an array of papers before him: they curved around his body in a half-circle reminiscent of a pale rainbow, but he seemed to derive little pleasure from their existence.

2. Day 4: Indulgence (Moriarty the Patriot, Sherlouis, Rated M(ature), Dubious Consent, Drug Use) *this fic was co-written with @vitya-nikiforova & the first line is mostly her writing, although I think it echoes the structure I started out with.

The apartment felt oppressively still in that quiet summer evening.

The Affair of Unforeseen Consequences (Moriarty the Patriot, Mycal, Rated E(xplicit), Contains untagged content that some readers may find upsetting to avoid spoilers)

Mycroft entered his office to find the seat to his desk thoroughly occupied.

Patterns: Alright! so I find that I have returned to much shorter opening paragraphs! Except for my Sherlock studying paragraph, my fics seem to open with one or two lines... although one fic truly began in the author's notes where the tiktok edit that it was based on was transcribed.

There is a mixture of action, scene setting, and introspection, which seems to be more attuned with the story I'm telling. I have a mixture of tenses even (and I know my fics are starting to mix tenses as a result 😬).

Maybe in the morning I'll see something different - really the thing I was noticing the most as I typed all that up was that my archive warnings have gotten more varied 😂

Tagging @seeingteacupsindragons @user-needs-new-hyperfixation @touchmycoat @nenya85 @kaibacorpintern @bum-scum @cawcawkarasu @vitya-nikiforova @winxhelina and anyone else who would like to participate.

[growling]

April 9th: Do you struggle with mental health? Does being autistic affect your struggle with mental health? Do you have depression or anxiety and is it influenced by being autistic?

I do have Problems mainly all my other mental disorders (NPD, ASPD, OSDD, schizophrenia, possibly AvPD & ADHD) unsure of exactly how many and to which degree are affected by me being autistic but definitely some are at least but also not getting into exact specifics. There's like plenty of overlap between symptoms of autism and schizophrenia/other schizo-spec disorders did you know what. I forgot what I was saying. Uhhhhh. Well I'm doing Bad

April 10th: Do you struggle with keeping up with physical health? Does being autistic affect it?

I shower like once a week maybe even more if I can help it, I brush my teeth like once a day and all of them are kinda yellow but like acceptable shade of yellow except I got like apparently 8+ cavities and sometimes when eating sugary things they hurt like a motherfucker, and I got like several permanent dirt stains all over my body soooo. I suppose. I'd say it's caused by the autism

April 11th: What are some things that might come easy to neurotypical people, but which you either can't do or need help to do?

showering + keeping up hygiene. I think I kiiiinda get the hang of what to do in a shower but also all the other evidence points to the fact that I Don't Really and also I always take really long cause I forget what I'm doing. Too busy spraying hot water on myself

going outside. it's been several years since the last time i ever stepped outside my apartment alone. i don't really know what to do with directions or how to really focus or react to things there, for ex. whenever im with someone i just follow behind them and look at the pavement and never around me, I'm too confused to look two ways on the street to cross quick enough, I can't take any public transportation alone or do things on my own in stores, either im too unfocused (or dissociating. i mean im kinda 90% of the day even more dissociating) or don't really know what im doing

money stuff. can't really manage finances so i never buy or ask for anything ever. numbers are confusing. don't really understand budgeting and every other payment stuff. i mean kind of i do. but also not really

understanding and "getting" complex concepts like politics, complicated/lengthy wording on certain topics etc, need simpler language for those, though it's not a guarantee that'll help

caring about things that don't directly affect me / only able to care about things that are directly affecting me, if anything doesn't really affect me then it's hard for me to even feign that I care about it in any "deeper" way or have sympathy for people that are affected. low empathy stuff. might not seem that big of a deal but other people (other autistics included) REALLY don't like this

speaking. physically able to speak and does talk through the day, but only in easier, shorter sentences or using words like "ok" or "meow", anything else is extremely difficult across all forms of communication that I have access to use, a lot of the times I'm not even interested in communicating at all. Spoke (heh) about this at length in other posts not really gonna type an entire essay about me being semiverbal here

learning new things (VERY difficult for me, sometimes even when it's a special interest, but mostly when it's something I "need" to learn but can't, ex. being math. Very slow at these things and need it explained very simply, multiple times), focusing on things that I don't like (also tied with learning things. if i don't like doing it then my brain will literally do anything but let me do it, even/especially if its something important), adapting to and handling change, processing things, comprehending many things (including media comprehension), putting on socks and shoes sucks too and I usually take wayyy longer time with those than I should, etc

[spuddy-potat]

not entirely sure what it is but my internalized ableism has been kicking my ass HARD lately

bit of an off topic vent type post so feel free to skip this one, i just wanted to organize my thoughts somewhere

tw: internalized ableism

for some context i occasionally get sciatic pain, lets say i have a bad day maybe once every 10-15, more often when im working or particularly stressed. what i define as a "bad day" is typically back pain that extends to my legs and makes it somewhat difficult to stand/walk without the threat of my knees giving out, or just prolonged bouts of sciatic pain

i realize ive had some form of sciatic pain since i was really young but it never manifested enough to really be noticeable, it only just started to become a problem my freshman year of college and has kind of remained at the level its at now

beyond that ive had a few other minor persistent health annoyances but those arent really the point here

anyway recently i havent been able to shake the feeling that its not actually as bad as i would make myself think it is, that im "playing it up" so to speak for the purpose of complaining about it and gaining, like, sympathy? i guess? from other people

that having back pain sometimes doesnt constitute calling myself disabled because for the most part i can do pretty much whatever i need to

and im no stranger to this type of self gaslighting where i keep telling myself that im making things sound worse than they are or that im actually perfectly fine and there is nothing to worry about (see: ive gone through this exact same thought process with me sexuality, depression/anxiety issues, adhd, autism(?), and gender dysphoria to name the big ones) and its a constant uphill battle to just accept a part of myself like that

i have a number of friends who struggle with disabilities, both mental and physical, and i worry that talking about my own percieved issues is discounting their experiences in a way because i think im complaining too much for what it actually is

like, the thought process is "if you actually had issues you wouldnt be using them as an excuse to complain, youre just too lazy to see that they could be fixed with simple lifestyle changes" or something

as if im using my back pain to get out of, what, working? which isnt true at all because i truly want to be able to work a full 8 hour shift without issue but my body starts to scream at me if im on my feet for more than 6 hours. and when my manager offers to give me fewer or shorter shifts i just feel so guilty because it feels like im conning her into making me work less

which isnt true! i want to work more! i really like my job!

and i see friends with worse health issues work twice as much as i do and i think "maybe i really am pretending its worse than it really is because i should be able to work like that with no problem. maybe im really doing this for sympathy that i dont deserve"

one of the biggest things that has been on my mind since this summer was that i think it would be really cool to have a cane. for the bad days when its hard to walk. so i found one that matches the one my oc has because i think that would be awesome. but for the life of me i cannot fucking convince myself to get it. because having "just a few bad days" doesnt warrant getting a mobility aid if im not gonna need to use it like 90% of the time

and of course all the friends i told about this are urging me to get it because "yes it will help you and you should get it anyway" and i agree! right up until i remember that its not actually that bad, that on my "bad days" i only make it seem worse by constantly thinking about it, i could literally just take some painkillers and it wouldnt be an issue. truly the pain isnt even that bad, right?

and so the loop starts again. an endless battle between both sides of myself, one that thinks im making everything seem worse just because i want an excuse to be lazy and gain sympathy, and the tiny tiny side that says "hey i think its good to have something that helps manage your pain even if you need it once every 10 days" and the bigger side ALWAYS wins.

its always been like this. with every issue i seem to have. and im just so tired of it.

in the grand scheme of things i realize none of this really matters, im never gonna talk myself into changing anything or trying to get better, so really im just screaming into the void here. eventually ill stop caring so much and go back to doing nothing and brushing off any pain as "its because of that terrible posture"

oof this post got really long but i just needed to put my thoughts down onto paper. i dont think i even touched on all the points i wanted to, and i dont think anyone will actually read this, but idk maybe itll help me feel a little less insane

whatever

[oracleofsecrets]

Zelda EOW cosplay log: cape featuring fleece frustrations

I am very tired rn so I’ll try to be quickish about it

Modified a cloak pattern by making the back piece narrower and making the front pieces significantly shorter, only to about tshirt sleeve hem level. Pointy hood pattern was a little Comically long, so I shortened that somewhat. It also said to make the hood out of 2 pieces but I had enough fabric to cut it on the fold as one piece instead. The hood lining i did normal style

Then it was time to grab a scrap of fleece and figure out what settings I wanted for a zigzag. I didn’t get very far in that effort because my machine was skipping stitches on just a single layer of the fleece 🫠 it was fine on cotton (if a bit scrunched), but it felt like no adjustment I made could fix it, so I went to bed upsetti

I looked at more forum posts and articles online the next morning, and when I sat at my sewing desk I was Determined to sort this out or cry trying. Idk if my machine has a pressure foot pressure adjuster thing, but I found a weird white knob with a big hexagon imprint inside after taking off the nose plate. Loosening that slightly seemed to help on a single layer of fleece, but not by much, and it did nothing to help the problem on two layers

At that point I figured my options were to buy a walking foot or sew it by hand, and my brother was on his way over 2 hang, so. Hand-sewing it is

It didn’t go… great. I only got through one side hem to a front piece. I was too afraid to pull my stitches tight, so they got all wonky when I removed the tear away stabilizer. They still held up though, at least?

I hit the forum trail once again after he left, and I Finally found a nugget of advice that worked!!! I just switched to a bigger needle and everything worked great, even on two layers, so I was able to do everything else with my machine

Accidentally sewed the hood shut when sewing on its lining… undid and properly redid that, sewed the hood to the body. Where the hood outside and hood lining met was kinda fucky, so I had to blanket stitch by hand the last 2 or 3 inches on each end

Then I had to figure out where to connect the front “flaps” back to the hood for enough overlap. Chose to use those last two or three inches and just blanket stitched all those together by hand as well

Put it on and tried not to be bothered by the wrong side of my blanket stitch mess showing. There are some drag lines on the front flaps too. Idk if where they attached for the crossover was bad or if I should’ve made them longer or what

The cone end of the hood is a little frumpy—collapsing a little too “soon”. I think the lining makes it all too heavy. Maybe the wig bun will help out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But for now, the cape construction is Good Enough (especially if you don’t look too closely)

Bc of the skipped stitches kerfuffle, I didn’t have time to test how I want to attach the geometric design (which I also haven’t even cut out yet…), so that’ll be tomorrow’s Task 🫡

[photoniccyclone]

SFR Update - Making progress

Hey ho! In my last update, I told you I had been outlining a big scene that would be the last one big one in the chapter. While I have yet to finish that scene, I made A LOT of progress on it. If this scene were normal-sized, it would've been done already; the issue is it's REALLY CHONKY. It's probably the longest scene this fic has had by far, so it's taking a lot to get done.

Also, thanks to the scene being so long, the chapter has passed the 16k word limit, so I'll have to see what to do about that. I will probably cut some stuff out or split it into two shorter chapters, as it likely won't be long enough to split into two full-sized chapters. But I know of some... "fluff" that I may be able to cut out to shorten the length, so I'll probably try that first. In the situation where that doesn't end up working, y'all might end up with two 11k word chapters or something because the current word count of the whole chapter is around 18k. And to that we can expect maybe 1k, 2k, or more words to be added to finish the current scene, and then perhaps about 1k or 2k words to hopefully cover the following two scenes combined.

But yeah, hopefully, the scene will be done sometime in the next week or two, and then I can speedrun the last two scenes and get this thing ready for editing, which will require some more time but hopefully as not as long as the rough draft (as always).

Also, I will have to change some things from previous chapters that I want you all to be aware of when the chapter gets uploaded. I'll mention it in the author's notes when it comes out, too, and I'll say exactly what's been changed, so you don't need to go back and read.

Here are the things that will be changing (if you haven't caught up on SFR yet, which, at the time of posting, means read chapters 1-6; don't read through these yet as they may contain some spoilers. Again, I'll put something similar explaining what's been changed in the author's notes of chapter 7, so don't worry).

For cannon compliance, Sol Regem no longer burned down Elarion. Instead, he tried to, but Ziard successfully stopped him, as in the show. This was initially in there because I thought that after Ziard blinded Sol Regem, he flew back to Elarion and burned it down. This belief held by many, including me at the time, seems to have stemmed from the Midnight Star poem. This, however, at least as far as we know right now, is false. Sol Regem did not manage to burn down Elarion, and the more likely explanation is that all of its citizens were kicked out in the judgment of the half-moon. I debated for a while on whether or not to change this in the fic because it is an au, so technically, I can keep it in there and just claim it's one of the things that have been changed, but a future scene is going to need the canon version of events anyway so this is going to have to be changed. It shouldn't be too hard to do. It's only been brought up in the fic twice so far, and one of them is just a change from "burned down Elarion" to "tried burning down Elarion," pretty much. The other occurs earlier in the fic in chapter 1 and may be harder to change because it's one of the things that Zym roasts Sol Regem on in a way that's not so easily changed. So I'm either going to have to come up with something else for Zym to roast Sol Regem on as a replacement or try to still work with the original one and just change it so it talks about him for attempting to burn it down rather than burning it down. I don't know how easy or hard that will be; that's also in the future when this chapter is pretty much done. I just wanted to let you know this will be changing.

2. In chapter 4, during Team Rayla's battle at the Earthblood settlement. Multiple injuries reference arrows "lodged" into limbs. The problem is, I recently did some research and figured out that if an arrow gets "lodged" into a limb, that limb is going to be out of commission for quite some time; it will likely not just be an "ouchie" that will cause you some pain for a while as it's kinda been shown in the fic. I never wanted the injuries sustained during that fight to be too debilitating as it would make some future scenes not work. I planned to make the injuries bad enough to lower morale, but not enough to put limbs completely out of commission. So, this is gonna have to be changed. I plan on changing places where an arrow gets "Lodged" into a limb to places where an arrow "grazes" the limb. So, it grazes the limb instead of implanting itself into it, decreasing the severity. Hopefully, this will make what they experience after the fight more believable, and it shouldn't be too hard to change.

That's all for now; hopefully, I'll see you all in the not-too-distant future!

[rapifessor]

Pokéchronology, Volume I: Yellow

Day 6

This post will be on the shorter side, as I didn't have much time to play thanks to being much busier at work today. I also ended up playing through a pretty long sequence, which didn't help but in the end I think things worked out nicely.

If you don't like Pokémon Yellow spoilers, don't keep reading!

Getting Organized

Before going off to progress the game, I want to sort out a few things. First, there are some other Pokémon I caught earlier that I hadn't mentioned. I write these posts at the end of the day so I have to try and remember every little thing that happened, and it's hard to keep track of all the Pokémon I catch.

So, I've got a Magnemite named Insanic, a Drowzee named Sumba, another Clefairy named Berryfairy, Doug the Diglett, and Gnatman the Venonat. I might have mentioned Gnatman already. Told you it's hard to keep track. Maybe I should write some condensed notes as I do things, but I dunno. It'd probably be way too annoying to stop every time I catch a Pokémon. A better idea would be to just look at my box in the PC before calling it quits and writing a post.

Moving on. I debated about whether I should evolve my Eevee into Flareon or Vaporeon. At first glance, Flareon seems like the more attractive option, since I didn't yet have a good Fire type. On the other hand, Vaporeon learns Ice moves, which give me coverage against Dragon types that might become a problem later. In the end I decided on Vaporeon as I felt I could deal with all the types Fire would give me an edge against easily enough.

Unfortunately, Starry didn't learn any Water moves after evolving for some reason. No matter, as I would need to level them up to gain access to their Ice moves anyway. To that end, I visited the daycare to reclaim Pear, who was now on the cusp of evolving into Fearow, who I plan on teaching Fly to once I get the HM. I replaced them with Starry and set off to check out Saffron City.

Saffron City

I only planned on checking out what this city had to offer before heading off to Route 16 and going to some of the other gyms. I'm not ready to challenge Sabrina yet; her Pokémon are all Psychic type of course, which is only resisted by itself and they're all level 50, while my Pokémon are still considerably below that.

As it happens, I couldn't enter Saffron Gym even if I wanted to, as Team Rocket has descended upon the city like a plague. I would put a stop to that soon enough, but I wanted to explore the city some more.

Compared to Celadon, there's really not much going on in Saffron City. I got the TM for Psychic, which I used on Miles, by going to "Mr. Psychic's" House. Other than that there seems to just be the Silph Building, which is the center of trouble in the city. Maybe there will be more to do here later, but for now it's rather barren despite its size.

Silph Building

On to the main event. Team Rocket is at it again, and as usual it's up to me, a 10 year-old kid apparently, to fuck up their shit. But this time, the Pokémon they command in battle are noticeably stronger. They're in the high 20's at a minimum, with some surpassing 30. One of the Rockets or Scientists even had five Pokémon if I remember correctly. The only Pokémon I had above level 30 were Prinzessin, Miles, and Mycoboss, and not by much.

At the end of the day though, they're all Pokémon I can dispatch with ease. In fact, that's why my highest leveled Pokémon are what they are; the game keeps spamming me with Normal and Poison types, which Prinzessin and Miles, respectively, excel at dispatching.

It wasn't long before I got the TM for Earthquake as well. You know what that means: Prinzessin now has a VERY strong Ground move at her disposal, which she gets STAB for, and makes her into the ultimate counter to Electric types. Not only is she straight up immune to Electric, she's also able to demolish them in a single attack. Every Voltorb and Magnemite that previously gave me trouble with their fixed-damage moves and lack of weakness to my team is now as good as dead.

As I battled my way through Rockets and Scientists and a random Juggler whose gimmick seems to be that they switch Pokémon unlike other trainers, I got a ton of useful items. I had to make a couple trips out of the building to stash the goodies because there were so many (again, this is where the lack of inventory space becomes frustrating. I hope this restriction gets removed quickly in subsequent generations).

The Gary Cometh

Eventually, I found my way into the isolated room on one of the floors, where I once again come face to face with who else but Gary. Since it hasn't been that long since the last battle with him, I wasn't expecting too much different from him. Sure, he's got that Fearow but BIG RAT knows Thunderbolt now. I shouldn't have too much trouble.

Boy, was I wrong, because Jesus CHRIST his Pokémon are strong. Their levels are all in the high 30's at least, essentially 10 levels above all my Pokémon, AND they're all fully evolved. Gary opens with his newly-evolved Sandslash. Thinking I could simply destroy it, I brought out Ominous and got hit by a Sand Attack. Sandslash is faster though, and they deal a whopping 70 damage to Ominous with Slash before I can even get off a Bubble Beam. My move hits, but it doesn't even deal half of Sandslash's HP in damage. We're off to a rough start. Ominous is my best counter to Sandslash, so I have to keep it out but I need to use a Super Potion to keep it alive. Sandslash uses Sand Attack again, giving Ominous a chance to attack once more. They get hit with another critical Slash, and dropped to low HP again. Miraculously, my second Bubble Beam connects, and deals a critical hit, taking out Sandslash.

Next is Ninetales. A much easier opponent to fight compared to Sandslash. I keep Ominous out and heal them again. My first Bubble Beam misses, but I land the second one and deal enough damage to drop Ninetales below half HP. One more Bubble Beam shuts down Ninetales.

Cloyster comes in, and I take a moment to decide who to switch to with Ominous being wounded and without a type advantage. Given the level difference between my Pokémon and Gary's, I thought that fighting defensively would be the best option. I switch to Mycoboss, intending to use Mega Drain to outlast Cloyster. What I failed to realize was that Cloyster knows Aurora Beam, and is an Ice type to boot. Mycoboss is annihilated in a single hit. Having no choice, I send in BIG RAT, the only other Pokémon I have with a type advantage. A Thunderbolt makes a considerable dent in Cloyster's HP, but I would need two more to defeat it. I get in a second Thunderbolt and Cloyster just barely survives. Unfortunately, BIG RAT wasn't fully healed, and he fell to Cloyster's Aurora Beam. The only Pokémon I have left that's not weak to this move is Miles, so I send him in to finish the job.

Gary's penultimate Pokémon is Kadabra. I realize I need Mycoboss alive to take them down, though in hindsight I could have kept Miles in and used Body Slam to deal damage while resisting Kadabra's powerful Psychic moves. I use a Revive and send Mycoboss back in. I take a lot of damage from the Confusion, but Leech Life heals some of it back and deals a lot of damage in return. But the next move that hits Mycoboss is Psybeam, which is MUCH more powerful. Mycoboss just barely survives, with only 3 HP remaining to finish off Kadabra.

Finally, Jolteon comes in. They're Gary's highest level Pokémon, at level 40. I wasn't remotely worried, though. One thing that's been consistent throughout every Gary battle except for the first two is that my strongest Pokémon has an OVERWHELMING advantage over his starter. This puny Electric type can do nothing to me. I switch to Prinzessin. Jolteon misses their Pin Missile. Then misses it again. I say "lol see ya nerd" and one-shot them with Earthquake.

Getting the Master Ball

With Gary suffering another consecutive defeat against me, I speak to the Silph employee standing nearby and receive a Lapras. I named them Holy, because holy shit it's a Lapras. I return to the ninth floor of the Silph Building to heal, then proceed to the eleventh to crash Team Rocket's business meeting.

Jessie and James pathetically challenge me again only to get swept by one Prinzessin again. Then it's time for Giovanni to make his next appearance. He poses a bit more of a challenge this time, as he has a Nidoqueen of his own. Since Giovanni had sent out Rhyhorn just before though, I already had Ominous out ready to destroy her because she's still weak to Water. It seems Gary challenged me because he wanted to make sure I was ready to take on Giovanni, but he probably should have done it the other way around. Anyway, the Master Ball is now mine.

Wow, what a ride. That Gary fight was probably the best I've had so far, and it could have gone a lot worse. If I hadn't gotten lucky with move RNG, from what Gary's Pokémon used to hitting with reduced accuracy and landing a crit at a crucial moment, I would have been in for a much tougher fight. I just realized that Pin Missile is a Bug type move as well, which Prinzessin is actually weak to. If it managed to hit more than a couple of times, I might have been in trouble because Jolteon easily outspeeds Prinzessin.

One thing I've learned from this battle is that I need some way to deal with Ice moves. Most of my Pokémon are soft to Ice, and I have to expect that I'll run into that Cloyster again in my next showdown with Gary. Which means ideally, I'd have a Pokémon that resists Ice and can use moves that are super effective against Water. The best I had for resistance was Water types, but Vaporeon can't learn any Electric moves. I did some research and eventually realized that the Lapras I just got would be perfect for this.

Not only is Lapras Water/Ice type, which gives them maximum resistance to Ice moves, they also learn Ice moves of their own, and they're capable of learning Thunderbolt via TM. As if that wasn't enough, Lapras has excellent stats and makes for an extremely potent Special attacker. And here I'm stuck with a Vaporeon because I didn't think I would be getting a much better user of Ice moves pretty much immediately.

Training up Lapras is therefore one of my top priorities. I don't think there will be much that's able to stand in my way once that's accomplished. I'm already set to demolish all of the gyms going forward, which just leaves the Pokémon League. I don't know what's in store for me there, but as much as possible, I'd like to be prepared. Once I've beaten most of the gyms, I'll make sure my team is ready for anything.

[kelsiekirbyy-scribbles]

Can you do sexual head canons between Dylan from DR3 and a medium sized nonbinary afab person?

💖Dylan Fuentes x nonbinary afab reader NSFW💖

Yo nonbinary afab gang 😌

[Warning: mentions of sex]

He dresses you up in many different outfits whether they be feminine or boyish

Dylan mostly uses pet names instead of pronouns, especially in bed

He doesn't mind being submissive but it's a bit rare

This man ain't straight, don't worry lmao

Head empty. Cant think lmao im sorry

[stargirlfics]

B U T T E R F L Y

Joel Miller x Black Latina Reader

Summary: Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, death tw, child death tw, some TLOU spoilers but doesn’t follow canon, post-outbreak!Joel, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma and violence mentions, fluff, slow burn vibe, mutual pining

Word Count: 5.6k

My mind has been stuck on the butterfly imagery connecting Sarah and Joel in the show, and in the game too! I grew up hearing from my abuelita that monarch butterflies are symbols of loved ones who’ve passed and I thought that would fit well here! This fic explores grief and pain but also finding hope through it too 🦋

To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.

Doomed is what they all said you were, surviving the outbreak this long sooner or later came with a price and they had been right, but still, half out of spite, half out of needing something to hang onto, the tenderness of you remained.

Surviving was a miracle and most could go on just grateful to wake up another day, but you’d seen how void life was lived here in the ruins of a former world, and as doomed as it all appeared, you tried your best to find pockets of light where you could, fighting the urge to shut yourself away. 

Because maybe one day those pockets of light would be abundant where they were once scarce, maybe one day, if you kept yourself open to it, there would be a sign of a changing tide to let you know you were finally safe. 

How strange signs could be, in plain sight but unseen until your brain could catch up with what your soul was feeling, and rarely did they ever come without complexity. 

In your case, that complexity came with a stern scowl that belonged to one Joel Miller. 

The first whispers you’d ever heard about Joel were that he was grumpy, stubborn, and not the kind of man to be messed with. He was the muscle behind trades done in shadowed alleys here in the QZ, illegal substances, weapons, extra ration cards, you name it. 

He was intimidating to most people, even you; having a reputation for being a man of few words and an even shorter fuse would do that but you knew there to be sorrow there too, etched deep in the lines of his face, reflecting like moonlight in his eyes. 

You’d never spoken to him, not in all your time in Boston, always seeming to narrowly avoid crossing paths, but you often saw him from afar. In the town square, catching glimpses of him waiting in line to collect a job’s earnings or in the pit, hauling bodies to the acrid cremation pyres smoldering hot throughout the day. 

If you thought about it, that’s where you saw the sorrow most.

That old, faded bandana he wore over his nose to block out the stench of burning gave you the clearest view of his eyes; sad, angry orbs fixated on the task like it was penance for him. 

All those hushed whispers told you he wasn’t a good man, that he had hurt people to get what he needed, and that wasn’t a surprise, you’d seen it enough to understand the grim nature of the wasteland you were in, how people often turned against each other if they thought it meant they’d live to see another day. 

Maybe that understanding was how it happened that day, the first time you’d meet, something in your soul already well tangled with something in his yet neither of you knew it yet. 

You’d been expecting someone else at your door that evening, a friend of yours with a bag of good soil snuck in from the outside in exchange for a radio of yours that was in decent shape. 

Instead, you were greeted by Joel Miller, bag in hand, a frown already on his face as he explained the switch up, even pointing to a note on the bag in your friend's handwriting to vouch for him. 

His voice had caught you off guard, a low, gruff bass in his careful cadence, Texan accent making the words go down smooth. 

“Okay, no problem, she did tell me she wasn’t sure if she would really make use of it. You can step in if you want, I’ll just be a second.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so trusting. 

That’s how people got robbed, taken advantage of, murdered and you weren’t going to get any sympathy from neighbors or any FEDRA soldiers in the area if something were to happen but despite that, and his reputation, you didn’t feel unsafe. 

Quite the opposite. 

Joel was certainly the grumpy type and you didn’t doubt he was capable of hurting you if he wanted but as you returned with the radio you found him just where you’d left him, his body filling your doorway in a way that reminded you of a guard dog. 

Something had caught his eye in the time it had taken you to walk back, gaze fixed somewhere behind you. 

It took you a second to realize what exactly he was staring at, eyes tracking him and following until they landed on the butterfly figurine hanging from the makeshift curtains of your kitchen sink window. 

Golden hour light warming the window had bathed the glass winged butterfly in its rays, casting fractals of color across the wall and the worn wooden floors. 

You studied his face for a moment then, a familiar kind of sadness reaching his eyes, the darkened circles underneath them a little more noticeable now. 

You wondered when the last time he got any proper sleep was. 

“I made it…” interrupting his thoughts gently you gestured towards the window when he looked at you in question, “La mariposa...took me ages to fit the glass and wire together right but I think it came out ok.”

He grunted in response, finally handing over the bag of soil when you noticed the slightest tremble in his hands. 

Oh…so he’d been caught off guard too. 

Something about your butterfly had shaken him up and you were curious, who could blame you for being tempted to cross what you were sure he would say was a line, but you pretended not to notice, trying to offer him some privacy, a second to collect himself. 

You’d appreciate it if he did the same for you in his place after all. 

The exchange was completed swiftly after, a palpable silence settling between you before he was leaving almost as quickly as he arrived, taking the fading summer sunset with him.

–

Joel barely slept that night, woken by nightmares again, a routine he was familiar with, haunted by the same old ghosts but it was different this time, the barbed wire around his heart digging in just a little extra, memories of her surfacing. 

Sarah. His Sarah.  

He didn’t realize just how long it had been since he was reminded of her this way, of what it felt like to be her father, shutting himself off to that years ago, unable to think about his life with her before because that pain was nearly unbearable. 

There is only after, the after in which she doesn’t exist, where he searches for her in his sleep and wakes knowing he won’t find her. 

Because he watched her slip away, had pleaded and begged to the skies to bring her back, had held her in his arms, hands stained red with her blood, and had to accept that she was gone and he was granted no time to say goodbye. 

Days turned to weeks, months into years and he had learned to operate on a certain level of numbness, just focused on surviving, never getting too attached, acting cold and angry, just a dead man walking. 

Until now, his chest nearly caving in with the truth that he was still breathing even after so long spent closed off. 

He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered your friend’s offer to complete the exchange at all, he knew he shouldn’t have, the radio you traded wasn’t in as great a shape as he would have liked, he knew that upfront and still begrudgingly agreed, not expecting to feel so exposed, so upended by a simple encounter.

That butterfly shining in the sunlight of your kitchen made his heart stop the second he saw it, flashes of memory surfacing, almost like his little girl was pulled to the surface of his skin again, like if he stepped inside he could reach out and she’d be there. 

A dreadful reality had washed that away after a moment, grief swallowing up the hope just as he knew it would, like it always had, but something was undeniably different this time for Joel. A difference that left an ache in his center. 

Because for those few fleeting seconds, he had felt alive again. 

–

The second time you met Joel was intentional, another bag of soil in exchange for some instant coffee this time. 

It was still early morning when he knocked on your door, quiet, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a sleepy kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before around the edges of his eyes which made you wish he didn’t look so inviting then. 

It wasn’t so hard to look at him as unapproachable as he made himself seem, he was handsome, the streaks of gray peppered in his hair and along his beard lending to his rugged look. 

“About the coffee, it’s not as strong as it could be but it’s the best I’ve got,” you handed over a jar, watching him open the lid and sniff its contents.

“That’ll do just fine.” 

Relief arrived at his approval, you gathered it’d been a while since he had any and you were glad your stash wasn’t a disappointment. 

You watched as he knelt down to set his backpack on the floor, stowing the jar inside and handing you the bag of fertilizer mix you had inquired about. 

It wasn’t long now before he’d be out the door again, these things were best kept short and simple but as you thanked him for the exchange and moved to store the bag with your other garden supplies, you noticed a moment of reluctance. 

Joel didn’t plan on lingering around now that you both had what you came for but then he was reminded of what he felt the last time he’d been in your space and his mouth was moving with the thoughts that were swimming in his head before he could bite back the words.

“That’s a good amount of soil you have, got some sorta secret garden FEDRA don’t know about?”

Suddenly you felt very silly for wanting to smile at his curiosity but also recognized the significance of him asking. 

“Something like that, yeah. I…actually found a spot of flowers growing through one of the QZ fences and I’ve been tending to it. It's no garden but the flowers are in bloom now, first time I’ve seen real butterflies in years.” 

You watched him perk up at the mention of real butterflies, furrowed brows hiding the flicker of emotion mere seconds later but it was too late, you’d seen it already. 

Up until now, your little patch of greenery had been a private endeavor. 

Something for you to put some love and effort in, and just a quiet, secluded place to be, to clear your head or be alone for a while, away from some of the chaos in the streets, and yet here you were, now, carefully asking him if he’d like to see it too. 

You thought just maybe, bringing him there would do him as much good as it had done you. 

And it’s there, in that moment when he says yes that you see all that hard exterior start to slip just an inch.  

It’s an inch you can work with. 

–

Early morning dew still clings to the soft blades of grass sprouting up near the fence line, the section where you’d been taking care of the vegetation noticeably more vibrant with color and growth. 

Slowly, you’d been replacing the dirt, had saved as many roots and sprouts as possible, taking care in replanting them, and from there, a shabby little makeshift garden bed had formed. 

This would be your third week caring for it and now Joel was trailing behind your steps to see it too.

His body language was tense like he couldn’t quite be sure you weren’t actually taking him to some secluded corner to ambush him, but you get it.

Being wary was smart, but you couldn’t lie that it was satisfying to let him take it in without explaining anything first, the tension in his shoulders easing, sagging when his eyes fell upon the dusky blue flowers and rich green leaves and vines growing up from the ground, searching for the sun’s nourishment. 

Joel couldn’t be certain whether it was the day’s first tendrils of summer heat making him feel warm or the fluttering orange and speckled black wings of a butterfly nestled atop a marigold. 

He glances at his wrist, at the memento that never leaves his side, a broken watch, and there’s a moment of clarity in the silence where Joel can feel it, all the shattered parts of him spilling out, and there isn’t any way he can catch it all, he’s already too late and he knows it. 

Panic works its way into his bloodstream, causing his hands to shake, not used to being so disarmed, so flayed open. 

His fingers curl into a fist, trying to steady himself, needing a moment to catch his breath, to process. 

And there you were, your gentle voice cutting through the noise in his head and that tidal wave of emotion. 

“They’re monarch butterflies, which means they’re special,” you’ve moved a little closer now, watching another one land next to its friend on the flower. 

“What makes' em’ so special?” Joel takes a deep breath and you do too. 

You thought for a second he might shut down and walk away, there wasn’t anything keeping him here after all, he had the coffee he came for and yet still took you up on your offer. That in itself was difficult not to attach yourself to immediately but there was no denying it felt good to know you’d earned maybe an ounce of his trust. 

“In Mexico, my abuela used to say they were a sign of the dead coming to visit the living, loved ones, our ancestors, the monarchs carry their souls to us. I think they’re good luck too.”

The smile working its way onto your lips is fond, sad, one you knew he’d recognize, the silent but shared knowledge of loss was a heavy burden to carry. There was no mistake about it, but being here, amongst your flowers and your butterflies made it easier. 

Orange and gold halos shimmered around the plant life softly swaying with the wind, your own features now warmed with the climbing sun, brown skin shining deeper under the light. 

Joel was looking at you now, following your words. The meaning of what you were both looking upon hitting him square in the chest when that feeling blooms behind his eyes again, that itch of something alive, something beautiful growing again amongst concrete ruins.

And it's there, standing next to you, watching you water the soil while butterflies float around you that he works out what that feeling must be. 

Salvation. 

–

After that morning, trading goods with Joel became a regular occurrence. 

Soil for another stash of coffee or a packet of seeds for a hunting knife in need of experienced hands, neither of you quite sure how it happened but eventually the trades became more like friendly favors to each other than practical transactions. 

Your ‘garden’ also became a frequent place for you both to go, so much so that on any given day you could bet he was there, a quick stop on his way back home, or in the morning before the day started, it became an unspoken shared refuge. 

Joel helped you fix up the makeshift garden beds when it became clear your tender care of the plants called for an upgrade and you were grateful for it, dismissive at first, not wanting him to feel obligated.

You could handle yourself around a hammer and a few nails but he insisted and you relented, the two of you knelt under the setting sun, working on the task together. 

It didn’t matter that it was closing in on curfew time, or that you didn’t really have anything to compensate him for his time because, the moment itself, the small inklings of trust building between you were actually far better. 

That’s when you started to see him nearly every day, sitting against bomb-scarred concrete, always facing those marigolds, the ones the monarch butterflies you’d told him about always flocked to. 

At first you kept your distance, knowing better than to pry. 

It was clear he’d been through a lot, most his age-if you were guessing correctly-had, old enough to have lived a good portion of their lives before the outbreak, the last witnesses of an old world. You wanted to respect that and as long as he was finding some sort of peace here, you were content. 

You didn’t mind his company either, he wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was comforting and familiar and you felt safe with him near. 

Eventually though, keeping him at a distance became impossible, both of you stumbling through the uncertainty of what to say to each other yet not giving up on trying at the same time. 

And Joel had resisted too, had tried to keep his words short, always residing somewhere in between neutral and aloof but the more he watched you in your element, amongst the seedling sprouts and vines and moss, the more it made him want to talk.

It was easy to find his voice around you. 

You were soft-hearted, he could see that and it wasn’t easy to get used to the way you looked at him, like you cared, like you understood something about his brokenness right away, had let him sit here day after day watching the butterflies because somehow you knew it’s what he needed, but he didn’t mind the learning curve either. 

His usual annoyance and reluctance to speak about feelings couldn’t keep up this time surrounded by reminders of Sarah, coaxing the small part of him that hadn’t died with her out of its state of numbness, softening him again. 

‘You were never gonna do it for yourself’ rings in his ears. 

He’d never been much good at that, doing things for himself, and Sarah was always so clever about calling it out, even now, nudging him awake again after all these years. 

It’s why he decides to tell you when you ask one day, sitting next to him on sun-warmed stone. 

He merely came by to sit for a little while and clear his head and found you already sat in his usual spot, butterfly watching, your eyes telling your secret, that you had been crying before he arrived, his first instinct carrying him forward, to your side. 

He offered you some water, even sliced an apple in half to share with you, pleased with himself when he got a smile out of the gesture but remained as quiet as you were, wanting you to feel like you could just be. 

“Who do they remind you of?” your voice was small, unsure of how he’d react to the question, overexplaining in hopes it would make him recoil less, “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, I understand. It’s just that…what I told you about the monarch butterflies, I really do believe in it you know, the people I’ve lost…they feel so close to the surface, like they’re watching over me and I think you feel the same.” 

Joel nods after a moment and you’re exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

It takes him a moment but he finds the words. 

“My daughter…her name was Sarah. They were her favorite, actually, since she was bout old enough to talk. I used to call her my little butterfly when she was a baby which, yeah, got real old when she started middle school but I liked to remind her anyways, just to see her roll her eyes at me. Just as long as she knew I loved her, you know, that I never stopped, not since the moment I held her in my hands for the first time.”

It broke your heart to hear. 

And it hurt him too, to speak about her and then remember that he had lost her, that twenty years had passed and he couldn’t remember what she smelled like anymore, and he hated the nightmares but without them, he was afraid of forgetting her face, her eyes, the coils of her hair, the sound of her voice calling out to him. 

It was only now that he was seeing how deep he’d pushed it all down, bottled up tight out of fear, and then somehow you’d entered his life, Molotov aimed straight at his heart, stunning him into remembering her the way she deserved to be. 

“I’m so sorry,” you extend all the comfort you can, knowing there weren’t any words that would ever make it right but you wanted to try anyway. 

“Yeah, me too. But you’re right, she feels close, and I know you’ve put it together by now but it’s why I’ve been sittin here every day, I see those butterflies and I see her, I remember her and it feels...good. I didn’t want it to; don’t really trust things that feel good but it does and I wanna thank you for that, for letting me have that.” 

He worries he’s said too much, or said the wrong thing, wanting to kick himself because he was never much good at words either but the sight of your lips pulling up into a small smile came as a relief. 

“She’s with you, Joel. And there’s no need to thank me, it’s been good for me too, doing all this. I think it helps.” 

He nods again, agreeing before asking you the same question, extending an opportunity to open up too; a big step when keeping personal histories to a minimum was the lay of the land around here. 

And it wasn’t easy, to talk about the things that hurt, baring your grief to Joel, and trusting him with it but you did and he had held it so gently, understanding it for what it was. 

Looking back you think maybe it’s there that things started to change, where your life and his started to merge. 

Sometime after that conversation you gifted him one of those glass winged butterflies like the one in your window, showing it to him one evening in the garden, earning you the first real smile you’d ever seen from him. 

It was after he told you more about himself, about Sarah, his brother Tommy, recounting happy memories; like the time he and Tommy surprised Sarah with her own soccer ball for her birthday one year, how he’d caved almost immediately the time she begged him to get her a polaroid camera, and you shared too, thinking on good times you’d had with the people in your life. 

It meant a lot to Joel that you spent time crafting the ornament, knowing just how deep the symbolism of it went for him. 

You were always doing that, looking out for him, planting tiny seed after tiny seed, slowly working your magic on him, ensnaring him deep, making him want to look out for you too. 

Under the fading sun again you sat with him, watching the marigolds, the calm, slow fluttering of wings, and it’s in that same spot that you find your hand in his for the first time. 

No words needed to be said, this was far better. 

A little while later you saw your gift hanging from the window in his living room, right next to the radio you had first traded him for.

The two of you had found yourselves escaping the heat here after some time tending the garden together, pulling weeds, clearing new soil of rocks and rubble, now sharing his couch, a rusty old fan that still somehow worked cooling the sweat prickling the back of your neck.

Curfew hour was nearing and you knew you would have to start making your way back home but Joel warned that he’d heard from a FEDRA officer he did trades with that they were patrolling the streets early the next few nights.

You knew why, it was hard to forget the hail of gunfire last night, a group of Fireflies going after a group of officers on patrol, a fight that neither one had won. 

Tensions in the QZ had been high all day since then and Joel suggested that you stay here with him for the night, saying he didn’t want you dealing with anything that might be going on out there.

He was being protective, a disapproving frown on that handsome face of his when you told him you didn’t want to intrude on his space but he was right, things had already started looking a little dangerous on your way back from the garden and you appreciated that he was trying to keep you safe. 

So you stayed. 

Curled up on Joel’s old, worn couch with a blanket that smelled like him tucked around you, the white noise of the fan still blowing and the knowledge that he wasn’t far, just in the next room over, carried you off to sleep.

–

One night had turned into two and then three and somewhere in the last couple months of summer that were left, you spent most of your days and nights with Joel. 

No label had been applied to whatever your situation was with him, you knew better than to ask, this all needed time, and you were okay with that, just content on holding onto this good thing with him. 

Because you liked being around, like sharing a space with him and sitting in the garden together, opening up to each other more and more every day. 

It was nice watching Joel come out of that hardened shell of his, watching him find it easier to talk about things, noticing him trying to live life more, not as reluctant to connect. 

Things were good, not to say that there hadn’t been bad days amongst all the progress made, there were plenty of them in fact. 

Days where old patterns became default again, stretches of nights where the nightmares returned, both of you trying to wade through it. 

When the aching of old wounds came knocking and the walls came back up again. 

You hated to fight with Joel when that happened, and you hated not being on the same page but he was so stubborn it wasn’t always easy to bite back your frustration. 

He had told you about his past, about the people he hurt in those early days and it’s something he wrestled with, believing in the goodness you saw inside him when all he could see were the bad things.

It frustrated you sometimes, how he preferred to shut himself off, to you, to Sarah’s memory because he felt like his hands were too dirty, too blood-stained to even try. 

“Que, no entendes?! Please, Joel! Stop trying to be something you aren’t. You think you aren’t a good man but bad people don’t get upset about being bad. Do you think you can just turn it off, the part of you that was always a good man, a good father? Well sorry, but you can’t, that’s who you are to your core, I saw it the first moment I met you and every time since then.” 

 “I’ve killed people,” his tone was mean, and venomous, another attempt at pushing you away. “Goddamnit, it’s not as simple as-”

“I get that! Look I know that you’ve done bad things but you’ve also spent every waking moment punishing yourself for it, do you realize that? All these years you’ve been paying your penance any way you can and I’m trying to tell you it’s okay live well, that you don’t have to torture yourself anymore because we have to try and make something out of all this pain.” 

It wasn’t easy to get him to see what you saw but you didn’t back down, even when it would have been easy to, Joel knew it too, guilt washing over him as you looked at him then, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You’ve endured enough.” 

It’s those final three words from you that makes him ease up, a reminder you nudged him with often, that he could rest already, could make amends by making a choice to find the light. 

He lets you take some space from him, coming to find you before bed because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without fixing things. 

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, talkin to you like that. You’re just tryna help my sorry ass and I haven’t thanked you enough. I’m gonna get better at that.” 

It’s the first time you ever hug him, noticing the tremble in his hands as he says the words, feeling the sincerity in his voice, unable to stop yourself from all but barreling into his arms. 

He’s still for only a moment before his arms wrap around you in return, the two of you bathed in moonlight, that butterfly still hanging in his window, pushing you towards each other again just like it had when you first met. 

–

Eventually, the day comes when the monarchs leave, the approaching fall and winter seasons carrying them to warmer places, a solemn change in what had been yours and Joel’s routine. 

The absence of the butterflies that had provided so much hope the last few months was felt, but the world was also a lot more open and wide now too. 

You no longer slept on Joel’s couch, you slept pressed against him now, and woke with your limbs tangled with his, a quiet partnership forming.

It scares both of you, knowing that you had grown to care for each other so quickly, knowing that was dangerous and reckless but also feeling stronger because you were a team. 

You think that’s why you make the decision together, one rainy fall evening when Joel comes home with a message from Tommy. 

They had gone through a rough patch recently, being apart from each other for some time and still not seeing eye to eye on Tommy’s choices but slowly, they’d started talking again and there was news that Tommy and the group he was with had gotten a hydroelectric plant that had once belonged to FEDRA up and running. 

There was electricity and a place to stay if you and Joel were interested, plus Tommy wanted you to meet Maria, said she did him a whole world of good and this was some of that good in action. 

It hadn’t been a hard choice to make even knowing how difficult the journey would be.

This was the chance you’d both been waiting for, and had talked about, a far off dream of running away from all the violence that was inescapable here in Boston, searching for something better out there, and now it was within reach. 

So you’d left your garden in the care of a friend you knew would understand its importance, and you bide your time with Joel, making deals, doing jobs, collecting and saving up supplies, and helping him map the way to Jackson. 

And then the day came when you left the QZ behind for good, watching the city fade away in the rearview mirror.

Making it to Tommy hadn’t been easy, there had been one too many close calls for comfort but the trust you and Joel had in each other didn’t waver, and here you were, finally on the other side. 

Settling in hadn’t been the easiest, especially for Joel, his guard still up but little by little, you both sank into a new way of life. 

You quickly learned how to ride a horse and hunt in the woods surrounding the power plant, even making friends with some of the families in the community. 

Joel had taken to things a little slower, but even he couldn’t hide for long, helping some of the men in the group with repairs on things that needed fixing, even cautiously attempting to make friends with you. 

Small pockets of peace started to open up the longer you stayed and the threat of raiders loomed over that peace at times, keeping everyone on alert for attacks but you all had Joel and Tommy now, always amongst the first to be out there protecting, defending fiercely.

You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you here.  

As spring arrived again you found a nice spot for a garden, pointing out sprouting flower buds to Joel one day, almost missing the fond smile forming on his lips, both of you knowing what this meant. 

You were happy here, and happy being with Joel, the two of you building a new garden together this time, until finally, as the chill spring breeze transitioned into summer heat and sunshine you were sat next to him like you had been what seemed like ages ago, watching the butterflies circle the flowers in bloom in what had become Sarah’s Garden. 

Joel made you a promise; to keep going for family, the family you, him, and Tommy were now. And you promised the same, not scared of how much you cared for the man by your side anymore.

It wasn’t perfect, the world was still rotten and the broken parts of you all were still raw, still healing, but this time her light was guiding the way through it and that made it all worth it.

---

A/N: When I saw that butterfly hanging in the window of his place in Boston I just couldn’t resist writing something about how he got it and here we are! This world is so dark and tragic and while this fic doesn’t change those facts, I hope it plants some gentle, hopeful little seeds of healing, because Joel deserves that and so do you as the reader! thank you for reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 💌

some tags no pressure! @inklore @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @ozarkthedog @amethystwonders11 @blkmorticia @moreofem @eupheme @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @superhoeva @buckyhoney @plumbits

[stilespeters]

SALVATION (series)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

pairing: colin zabel x reader

words: 3047

A/N: i told myself i was gonna make the chapters shorter but its still somehow 3k🥲, anyway i hope its not boring. lmk what u think bc feedback is always appreciated. also, im still working on the requests, im having a bit of trouble atm with writing the smut but it’ll be alright. Should mosy likely be posted this week.

summary: after some drama at home, a detective saves your life. Later, an invitation is in your mail.

warnings: swearing, hallucinations

part 2: the invitation

“I’m home!” You yelled as you placed your bag next to the counter and you walked to the kitchen with your car keys where Zoe stood. She looked up from her phone and she smiled when she saw you. She waited for you to give her the car keys so she could drive herself to her internship.

“Did everything go alright?” she asked and you nodded as you leaned against the counter.

“Yeah, I got a new psychiatrist. His name is Rudy Vincent.” Zoe had a smug look on her face when she heard it was a male, and before you could protest, she already spoke.

“Is he cute?”

“He’s too old for you.” you retorted.

“I wasn't talking for me, I was talking for you.”

You gave her a knowing look and you raised your eyebrow at her, making her raise her hands up in defense.

“You’ve been single since what? The stone age?”

You huffed at that and crossed your arms. “Come on now, I’m 23. I’m not that old.”

Zoe rolled her eyes in a playful manner with a scoff. “Can’t believe that I, as a 17 year old, have more sexual experience than you, my 23 year old sister.”

“Zoe, that’s not… I don’t want to talk about this right now. I have 99 problems to think about and sex isn't one of them.” She chuckled, and this time you were the one who rolled your eyes.

“What about you? Seeing anyone interesting? A certain blonde maybe?”

She turned red and looked away and you gave her a smirk. You remembered a blonde boy that came by now and then and then Zoe would go with him. You never asked about it since you were always busy with something in the house, but now you were curious. “I thought he was the mailman first until I saw the letters KLG on his shirt. He’s a frat boy?” You scanned Zoe’s face and you couldn't help but laugh when you saw her biting her lip. “You like him.”

Zoe looked everywhere but your eyes, and you immediately knew the answer. Lately you had noticed that she was much more glowy. It was visible in her face but it was also noticeable in the way she acted. She was much more on her phone lately and she kept smiling behind her screen.

“And I think his school is close to your internship so that means you’ll get to see him even more.” You winked at her and she bit her lip while looking at her feet. “How do you even know him?”

“I met him at a frat party where Madison dragged me to a week ago.”

“Cute, you should show me a picture sometime, I haven't seen his face yet.” you respond. “Oh, and to answer your first question, Vincent seems nice but I’d like to just keep him as my psychiatrist. I have no interest in dating at the moment. For now I have my hands full with two teenagers,” you froze, your face turning into irritation. “Speaking of which, where is Violet?”

“She's upstairs, but Y/n… maybe it’s not the best idea if you-” but before she could finish her sentence, you had already moved to the stairs. You spun around to face Zoe one more time and she caught your car keys before you walked upstairs.

In the hallway you walked to the door on the right with a board that said “Do not disturb”, but you opened the door anyway and immediately stepped into a t- shirt on the ground.

When you looked up, you saw Violet with headphones next to the window with her head resting on her palms, and a cigarette between her fingers.

“Violet!” you tried but the music in her headphones were too loud for her to hear you. So you walked inside and stood next to her with your arms crossed and your eyebrow raised.

“Violet!” This time she looked up a you and placed the headphones around her neck. “What.”

“Don’t give me ‘what’” you sighed. “I got a call from school. You’ve been skipping classes, seriously Violet?”

“Skipping one class isn't gonna hurt me, Y/n.”

“This isn’t just one class, it’s four days. You’ve been skipping school for 4 days. Where the hell have you been? How do you even get cigarettes?” you eyed it in her hands with disgust.

She rolled her eyes and looked back outside. “You’re not my mother, I don't have to tell you,”

“No that's right, but as long as Cordelia is in France, you’re my responsibility. And as long as you're my responsibility you do as I say.” You closed your eyes while sighing and you rubbed your temples. “All I ask from you is to just go to school and not smoke in the house.”

She didn't seem fazed, and as a means to annoy you even more, she brought the cigarette back between her lips and made eye contact. That’s when you plucked it out of her mouth and threw it out of the window, and you could hear her protest as she watched it fall into the grass.

“You’re such a bitch.” she snarled and you rolled your eyes. “No smoking in the house, you're free to do whatever you want as long as you obey those rules.”

“Whatever.”

You sighed again, and you turned around to leave the room. You stopped however when you heard her mumble something.

“You're not even my real sister.” it was as quiet as a whisper but to you it was like a gunshot next to your ear. You slowly turned around and scanned her for any sort of hesitation on her face. All you could read was irritation that you threw her cigarette out of the window. You tried not to show her how hurt you were by her words, but your jaw clenched and your eyebrows were knitted together.

“You know what, I cannot deal with this right now, I’m gonna clear my head,” you sighed and turned around to leave the room. “We’ll talk about it later when I get back.”

When you walked downstairs, Zoe was still in the kitchen and she looked up at you once you walked over to her. You leaned against the counter.

“What am I gonna do with her.” you groaned and you covered your face with your hands. You had always been patient with Violet, especially since you saw so much of your younger self in her, but lately with everything going on, you felt like you were failing as a sister. Sisters were supposed to support each other and have fun with each other. They aren't supposed to disagree with everything and fight about everything. You hated that you kept acting like her mother, but in cases of skipping school, you had to.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you slowly looked up to see Zoe look at you with an understanding smile. “You're doing great, Y/n. Don't beat yourself up. She'll come around, I know she will.”

“Yeah,” you whispered and you looked outside into the garden. “I think I’m gonna go for some fresh air, maybe get some coffee. I need to clear my head.”

“Alright, I’m going to my internship,” she walked to the door but paused. “You’ve got mail by the way.” She pointed at the stack of posts on the table. “I’ll check them later.” You said and you walked over to the coatrack.

After you sat down at a table with coffee in your hands you couldn't stop thinking about what Violet said. It was like a knife to your chest, and you hated that you and her didn't have a bond as tight as it was before. Yes, you weren't her sister biologically, but you didn't care that you weren't blood related to the Goode family. Violet was still legally your sister whether she liked it or not.

And although you knew it was probably just her moody teenage self, it still hurt.

You loved her unconditionally and part of you felt like that love wasn't fully returned.

You bit the inside of your cheek and before you knew it, thoughts consumed you. Most of them were about you and violet. You didn't even realize that half an hour had passed.

That’s when you looked up, and came face to face with your worst nightmare.

Kai Anderson.

It was so sudden that your smile immediately disappeared. It felt like the air got sucked from your lungs, and your mind stopped working. As if the wheels in your head stopped spinning, and the world around you froze.

He was casually standing on the other side of the crosswalk with his hands in his pockets, a neutral expression on his face and his lips in a thin line. When you made eye contact, his lips curled upwards in somewhat of a mocking smile and you analyzed him cautiously. His blue hair was shoulder length as always, he wore a black jacket and black trousers, and he had a dark blue beanie on his head.

Even from a distance he looked menacing.

Your eyes narrowed at him, and your knuckles turned white as you squeezed your coffee cup. It was a wonder that you didn’t squish it, but luckily it didn’t since the coat you were wearing was Zoe’s. She’d kill you if you stained it since it was one of her favorites. One time when you stole her scarf for a day and stained it with cola, she didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day. Which is funny since she wasn't the most fond of fashion.

After a few seconds of recollection, your grip loosened on the cup and your mouth that hung slightly open, closed. You remembered what Vincent said.

“If you see him again, I want you to try and convince yourself that he isn’t real.”

So you closed your eyes, and let out a deep sigh while repeating the same sentence over and over again.

you are not real, you are not real, you are not real.

You were sure that if bystanders were to see you chant this, they would absolutely think you were batshit crazy, but you didn't care. They already thought you were. All you wanted was for this fucker to go away and rot in hell, not in your dreams or in your daily life. And if making yourself look like a fool was the solution to get him away, you would gladly do it.

After minutes passed, you sucked in one deep breath, and when you opened your eyes part of you expected for him to be gone.

Yet again, you were met with the same terrifying eyes of Kai.

Fear began to creep back in, and your muscles that loosened a while ago now tensed again. Why wasn’t he going away? Why was he still standing there like time hadn’t passed? How did he look so real?

Your eyes blinked rapidly, like there was something in your eye that wouldn’t go away. But no matter what you did, he just didn’t go away. He was like a fly in the room at night who kept zooming in your ear. Like, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to swat it away, it just keeps zooming like a nuclear alarm. It was the most infuriating thing ever.

Suddenly you had the urge to kick him as hard as possible. You downed the last remaining bits of coffee down your throat, clenched your jaws shut together and your clammy hands turned into fists. Suddenly all the fear and confusion started to morph into anger.

It morphed into pure rage.

He had taken control over your life for 7 years.

He wasn't gonna take more.

So you did something that might be the smartest or dumbest thing you had ever done.

You stood up, threw 5 dollars out of your purse on the table for your coffee, and you started making your way to the other side of the crossroad. People around you didn’t notice the way you marched in one line straight to Kai, except for the people you pushed away. They glared.

But you didn't give a flying fuck. For years you had made yourself a victim, trying to ignore your problems until they eventually went away, only to recur again. But right now, you wanted to face your problem, in the hopes of finally overcoming your fear. In the hopes of finally being able to breathe without feeling paranoid. You finally decided to not cower or run away.

You almost reached the pedestrian cross, when you suddenly got pulled out of your thoughts as someone roughly pulled your coat, making you let out a yelp. Your body got tugged backwards just as a car screeched down the road, and you nearly tripped as your heel got stuck in front of the trottoir. Your eyes went wide as the car honked, and if it weren't for two hands holding you steady, you would've fallen down due to the momentum.

“It’s a pedestrian crossing, are you blind?!” A man shouted. He held your arms firmly, afraid that you’d fall if he didn't and his voice was filled with worry. “I got you.” His voice was gentle and you stared at his chest in shock. You didn't realize that your inner monologue made you not watch your surroundings. It almost got you run over. A few people who were now crossing the road, looked up at the two of you and you couldn't feel more embarrassed.

His eyes were still focused on the car that moved around the corner. Your eyes were still wide and your heart was rapidly beating as adrenaline flooded through your body. Your arms were clutched to your chest and your mouth hung slightly agape. You looked like a lost child who just lost their parents.

“Hey, are you okay?” You snapped back into reality and your head tilted to look at the man who saved your life. “Yeah.” You managed to get out in a voice crack and you gulped harshly. He gave you a soft smile and let go of your arms carefully. His hands went into his pockets and you scanned his face. He had dimples, dark brown eyes and dark brown hair.

“You saved my life, thank you.”

“It’s nothing. That asshole should’ve seen that it was a pedestrian crossing. There are children walking around here.” He looked at two kids eating ice cream a few meters away from you before looking back at me again.

“Are you okay, truly? Cause that must've been quite the scare. I hope I didn't grab your arm too harshly.”

“Yeah I’m fine, really. Thank you again for pulling me back. I owe you.”

There was a short silence and you both exchanged shy glances. You had never seen this man before, but he had somewhat of a familiar face. You swore you had seen him somewhere before but you couldn't quite place it from where you had seen him. It was probably just one of those faces that looked similar.

After you got out of your trance, you looked at the spot where Kai stood, and now he was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you said as you stared at the empty spot, and the man raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I just…” you began and the man looked at the spot where you were previously staring at. “Never mind.”

You looked back at him and after a short glance, he raised his hand for you to shake. “I’m Colin by the way.”

His hands were big compared to yours. “Y/n.”

His smile faded and his eyes widened. “Holy shit, you’re the girl from the Anderson case,” he could faintly remember your features from the girl in the court video. You looked identical, only older.

You slowly nodded while kissing the back of your teeth and he immediately shook his head. “I’m sorry, you must be tired from hearing that all the time, I’m new to the area here for work.”

That’s when the wheels for you began to click. “Wait, you’re that one detective guy, the one who solved that one cold case and the one who solved that one case in Pennsylvania.”

“Yup.” he placed emphasis on the p and you smiled. Funny how you two both recognized each other.

“That’s really impressive, are you here for the recent killings?”

“Yeah, I was on my way to the station actually, you?”

“I was uhmm… just about to head home, I’m sorry for holding you up,” you referred to his previous answer. “Thanks for saving me, again I’m really grateful.”

“It’s alright.” He said and as you looked up at him, he was contemplating whether or not to continue the conversation, but before he could speak, you had already walked away.

He cursed himself for not talking to you more because he really felt something when he touched you. He knew it was silly, but as he watched you walk away, he felt kind of… drawn to you.

When you got home you had placed yourself on the couch with your mail at hand. Most of it wasn't that special. Bills, insurance, advertisements… You scanned through it all, until one envelope caught your attention.

It was sealed with red marking and on the center of the envelope was your name written in elegant calligraphy.

You carefully opened the envelope to not damage the paper, and when it opened, a card slid out of it. The paper felt thick and expensive, and when you read the words, you knitted your eyebrows together.

Dear Miss Goode, it has been a while since we last spoke. I hope you’re doing well in these times of despair, and I hope to get our status up as acquaintances after all these years. Thereby I am most delighted to invite you to the opening of the Hotel Cortez. Saturday at 8pm. You can bring a plus one if you’d like. It would be delightful if you were to attend.

JPM