#a lot of stock to put into someone from so long ago I know

[kindledrose]

LIFESTUCK ?!?! (pt 2 here!) (pt 3)

i was sick a couple days ago and spent like 12 hours straight doing nothing but classpecting life series characters and then was like Yeah i have to draw this now. so here's some sillies 👍 (super long classpect ramble under cut because i spent far too long on it not to share hfshjf)

quick note: i really really love @/classpect-navelgazing's theories and used them for a lot of the ideas here. go check their blog out it rules :]

ok you guys flower ranchers (scott tango jimmy) are making me so insane for this au specifically because of this idea i had about doom/life players. doom in true canon is related to inevitability, fate, and knowledge of the specific rules that keep the characters trapped within their story, right. and life is sort of related to healing, physically and mentally, within the confines of the game. so within this au, the aspect of life refers to the rules within the game that the players can see and are aware of (last life’s trading lives system + boogeyman, third life’s soulmate mechanic, secret life’s tasks, etc.). life players have some amount of dominion over these elements (depending on their class, of course). doom on the other hand refers to everything surrounding the games (stuff like admin powers, the world barrier, and whatever happens to the players after they die). 

as a mage of doom, scot (his name is so funny to me. like yeah he sure is) has a bunch of intrinsic knowledge about the way the games function on a logistical level. he’s like a guy who read the script a while ago and forgot all the characters’ names but knows the basic plot and how it’s going to end. or who knows all the ins and outs of tech crew and for whom the apparent magic of the show for the audience is lost on, since he knows how it’s being done. the thing is, scot isn't especially able to act on this knowledge during the game. what director wants someone in the audience — or one of the actors — taking all the magic out of the show, spoiling how it works and how it ends? no, it’s best if they keep that knowledge to themselves — and so scot’s narratively unable to affect the stories of those around him, even his close friends who he’d want to help. he’s aware of this, of course, which makes him more than a little depressed, as he can see the futility of it all and can’t even explain to anyone what’s going on and how the game works. (the only story he’s able to affect, of course, is his own. which. depressed doom player + mage martyr complex + guy who Really cares about his friends is not necessarily a good combination.)

the amount of stock i put in the idea of gendered classes is close to zero so tangoe gets to be a maid of life because ohh my goodness. i like the theory (thanks classpect-navelgazing) of life as “the aspect of affluence,” where life players usually enter the game with some kind of material wealth or status that helps their position in some way. i also like the idea that maid players start the game with a surplus of their aspect but often end up feeling as if they’re only seen as a provider of that specific thing as a result of this, and so end up longing for something else instead. this primarily applies to last life tango because that’s the season i’m most familiar with lol, but i thought the way he started out with so many lives there and quickly dwindled as a result of everyone taking from him and only him was Really interesting. mans has all the luck of the game he could need, but only wants friends to actually be able to live with. being a life player also ties into his little gambling games and things (again, dominion over stuff within the overarching game/story, but nothing beyond that).

then we get to jimi (again fantastic name). the basic premise of an heir is that they’re played by their aspect, right and Oh Boy is jimmy played by life in the life series. i don’t personally know much about anything he’s done other than heehoo canary guy but along with the previously stated points it’s So fun to see him as a life player because it allows for some really clearly contrast between the way he interacts with tangoe and scot based on their aspects. i really like the idea of scot being like “you’re a life player jimi. it's in your name. the game is not going to let you die” and jimi like “you really think so? aw thanks man” neither of them knowing that dying as a life player in this game is literally like in the job description. (ok. i kind of feel like i’m letting jimi down by basing his story so far around other people.. but this is just for fun and i can always change it later)

(also i could easily have put tangoe and jimi as doom players too but for the fact that i don’t think they necessarily see through the game as much as scot does (or at all). and so life it is.)

feel free to ask me questions abt them!!! i have so many thoughts about this bro 

[theswordwizard]

ai art: both sides

I think a lot of non-artists are also just really and truly not understanding the big picture. I personally could not care less about that cat image, it was fun, whatever, but you are only producing those kinds of images in the sense that an art director "produces" whatever art they are in charge of. They are telling another artist what to do, even guiding them, but they are not considered the artist themselves. Artists who are creating their own art, who are trying to survive off of their work (many of whom have some form of disability, as art is easy to do while sitting down, etc), who are already in the middle of fighting to not just be tossed aside for a product which doesn't even produce the results it claims, are reacting negatively because they are seeing that in parallel with tabling spaces taken up with people presenting generated art as their own illustration, and game devs/producers using it as a way to explicitly avoid paying people for work, while using something that was trained on their work.

"Why do people react so strongly to things possibly being AI art?" If you want to keep it out of the courts, then public opinion matters all the more. It's about a party line that is easily communicable. Most artists are going to be strongly anti-AI because that's the best way to protect themselves than trying to "open a discussion" about it. It's like nurse scabs. We can argue back and forth all day about the intricacies of scabbing for important jobs, but at the end of the day the party line will generally be "scabbing is bad," "we don't like scabs," "scabbing harms workers."

People are trying to compare people getting mad about it to people getting mad about Duchamp's fountain, which just lets me know about their level of art education, and the level of which they like to talk out their ass.

Duchamp's fountain isn't a major point in art history because of the object itself, its because of the STATEMENT. It is because of the placement of the object IN THE GALLERY. It is the equivalent of a political pamphlet, but summed up in a single object that incites discussion around his political statement. It isn't about the object it is about the CONCEPT. We can literally call anything we want "art" if we dedicate ourselves to reframing it and treating it as such, it's just that most non-artists don't even care. They want the label of being an artist without even putting in an effort to. It's like if I wanted to be called a photographer and I wanted people to treat me as such, and so I just made a portfolio of pictures I took off of Pinterest or even a stock photo site, because I've decided that it's the photos I would WANT to take, and thus I can just act like they have anything to do with me.

There have been arguments over much more "similar" things for a long time too. Since the 90s Richard Prince has been taking people's instagram photos, making slight tweaks to avoid copyright, and then printing them large scale and selling them for tens of thousands of dollars. Technically legal, kinda shitty, as he does it without even contacting the (plenty of times, women) original posters. And that's just with selfies people have taken! But I don't see people mentioning that because a lot of people don't like him, and most people arguing to legitimize AI art to be uncontested don't actually care that much about contemporary art. They have zero real interest in being an artist and talking about art to that degree, to have those discussions in a way that isn't validating themselves. Duchamp's fountain in a gallery incites discussion because galleries are places of art discussion. If someone brought a crate of mechanically woven baskets (that they bought from amazon) to a craft fair, people are going to be rightly pissed off. It's about context.

It's also, in my opinion, a similar discussion to the one that was big on twitter not too long ago, where people argued that artists weren't obligated to be able to draw non-white and/or disabled people. Which, sure, but you probably aren't that good of an artist if you don't know how to. And someone going through a portfolio of exclusively white people might go "huh, only white people. interesting." (I even want to include a gotcha here! If an artist has a portfolio of white people, and they have a section talking about their focus being painting their family tree in like, northern Ireland, it's gonna be a totally different story. why, you ask? because there is an underlying concept other than "wow this artist really only likes white people." this is part of the reading comprehension test that will follow.)

And you know what, I'm going to be honest - and this is likely a result of me not being a photographer - but I'm not even really talking all that much about AI photo edits, outside of the large scale implications of what it means that anyone can create a highly realistic image of anything they want (including political figures, female celebrities, you see my pattern here) with zero effort, on a mass scale we've never seen previously. I think they should only be used with stock, and I even think that photographers who upload their works should get additional payments from it. I actually had used a generator back in 2019 for a project, well before this even became a discussion, and it was even featured in a gallery show for a bit! The overall theme was "fake news," so it was a conceptual piece with fake landscape photography that I made with some beta tool. The point was the tool in combination with the tool's result, not how pretty the fake pictures were. I also want to say it was trained a lot more ethically than a lot of the generators that are so popular today.

And this isn't to say that you have to have a gallery or be so fully integrated in a physical art scene or whatever to be able to make conceptual art or talk about it - honestly I think zines that could actually combine whatever your concept is with having room to talk about it, and they're easy to create both physically and digitally and share. maybe just don't have it be around "look at all these pretty pictures that I made with AI." similar to how people at the art book fair aren't going to be impressed with me being like "look at all these pretty pictures I found on Unsplash."

Sure, AI art is "real art," but it's not illustration or photography or whatever, it's conceptual art. Which means it's main goal is to incite thought and discussion about it. Like the D&D book's release that suddenly turned to being about the AI art they used. So if you want to be an artist using primarily AI, go ahead, no one can stop you, but the topic is culturally significant with the current fight between the entertainment unions to protect their livelihoods, so the discussion will be heated.

[evelynwinters1]

Yan!BSD character imagines + Yan!Fyodor oneshot at end

Dazai:

I can imagine a scene from Heathers, but instead of him finding you hanging and choosing to blow up the school only to see you alive, he would most likely abduct you and blow up the house he keeps you in with him and his delusional obsession.

Jouno:

Just give up. You are never getting out. He would find reasons to skip work if he has to. (It wouldn't matter how petty the reason) He would go lengths farther than the sun to simply stay in your presence. I can see him in an entirely different room (probably across the house even) eavesdropping on you whispering your plan of escape to yourself. How amusing.

Ranpo:

Another one you should give up escaping from. He has already deduced your plan of escape whenever and however you try to do it. He also knows where you will go if you do manage to escape and is waiting for you when you get there. I can see the reader/ yn trying to buy their escape by bribing ranpo with sweets and snacks at first, but he already seen through this method a while ago and went to go refill his stash. (Most definitely got you anything you may need with it)

P.s. I am still laughing at the thought of the cashiers face when he gets a mountain of snacks and pads/tampons and/or condoms. Shooketh!

Atsushi:

Would make sure you never suspected anything. This lovable idiot would turn full paranoid phsycopath and back again depending on if you were around or not. I can imagine him two-facing you and the detective agency. The agency sees his obsessive paranoia while you see his clingy side.

Chuuya:

Would definitely keep the anger issues (Yes. Even around you.) The main difference would be the direction of what he's angry at. The mafia - as usual. You - trying to escape. I can see a moment when you do escape, after seeing him activate his gift, you would be so terrified to leave him ever again. The sheer amount of strength it would take to not rip you in half with his gift would be immense. Very possessive. Chihuahua.

Mori:

(Now hear me out, I know that a lot of people would rather see him dead. But . . . . Yes.)

More platonic than the others, but equally as obsessive. Would make a secret room off of his main office that only him and Elise would ever know about. No one is to deliver food to you no matter how trusted the individual is. No one is to visit you other than him and Elise. No one will hear about you, let alone see you. Your very existence is hidden from everyone but Mori and Elise. I can see him putting motion sensors in front of the door to his office that notifies him when someone is near (like a ring doorbell but without the camera. He doesn't need it 'cuz no one will know about you anyway.)

Nikolai:

Would definitely have something I like to call the "house of mirrors" complex. Everything that happens to you is simply your fault. But it's completely okay because look how beautiful and special you are! Would convince you that you wanted it.

You wanted him to kidnap you, why else would you make yourself look so vulnerable? You wanted to be punished, why else would you try to leave him?

That kind of thing. A ton of gaslighting. Punish, pretend, praise, repeat.

His perfect doll.

Sigma:

Let's be honest, even as a yandere, he is still a cinnamon roll. Sure, he'll kidnap you, lock you in a room with plenty of space and light (only he would have the key), and put a chain around your ankle that the other end was bolted to the floor. But you would have a walk-in closet, a full bathroom with any necessity you could dream of, a king-sized bed (possibly a large vanity), a desk always stocked, and him.

He would give you meals that he had prepared and cooked personally. He would be at your every beck and call. It didn't matter what you needed, as long as he deemed it safe for you to have, he'd give it to you. Anything from around the world. The price didn't matter, you did.

Edgar:

His muse. Everything about you, whether it be physical or not, was enchanting to him. Even Ranpoe got jealous of his attention being on you. After all, he almost completely gave up contesting with his so-called rival. A good portion of his poems were based on his muse. He didn't need to kidnap you per sé, you waltzed in yourself. Exited that you finally tracked down your favorite author for nothing more than an autograph. (One would almost think you were the stalker)

His shyness and anxiety were key factors of him nearly panicking when he first met you. In time, however, he warmed up to you. Arguably faster than he would like to admit. You would visit him several times after finding him and try and get to know him.

I can imagine when he finally acknowledged his infatuation with you, he asks you if you could get something out of his room for him, telling you that it's a gift for you and he wants it to be a surprise. When you enter and start looking around for anything that stuck out to you, he closes and locks the door. Karl was also in the room with you to serve as both emotional support and security. But you didn't need to know that.

Fyodor:

!!warning!!: kind of cringe, written in a hurry, stalking, mentions of death, manipulation!!

For those of you who bothered to read this whole thing and reach the end, you are in for a treat. Because yandere fyodor wouldn't be as impatient as the others. Obsessed, yes. But impatient, absolutely not. The final result would collapse if he was.

He loved watching you live your daily life through the miniscule cameras he placed strategically throughout your entire house, car, even where you work. How? He has his ways. Every morale any human has tends to be abandoned when he can show the world their darkest secrets with the click of a button. Your boss was no exception. Living on your own was a pain sometimes. Most cleaning couldn't get done until about a week later because of exhaustion. Most of the time, when you got off of work, you'd simply crash in bed. As much as Fyodor loved watching you sleep, he worried a lot about you. Mainly not eating enough (if at all), and if you did, it was mainly cup noodles, canned food, or the occasional leftovers of food you bought during your break at work. He was going to wait until you nearly reached poverty. To be your savior, and casually press himself into your life and your heart. This method (according to his calculations) took the least effort, but the most time. It also raised the chance of success. When he finally gets to you, he will play innocent. He will tell you that he knew nothing about you but get you your favorites. All to paint himself as the perfect ideal man to you. Your soulmate even.

On a walk with him late at night, you both happen to run into a man you now know as Dazai. You could immediately sence Fyodor tense. He made it seem like you both were simply too focused on each other to see where you two were going and briskly guided you back home. You looked for Dazai wondering why it was fyodor tensed so quick (he never did explain why when you asked him), and you ran into him on your way to the post office where he introduced himself. He seemed a bit quirky but hilarious sometimes. That was until he asked about Fyodor. Without much thought, you told him about the start of a relationship between the two of you and how you met. Dazai looked absolutely shocked, told you about his work, where it is, and invited you to talk about 'the details' of Fyodor's identity. The two of you went your separate ways.

You came home to find it devoid of presence. Fyodor left. Given that it was a bit dark out, though illuminated by a full moons light, you read a book on the window seat in the bedroom with a cup of tea till the early hours of the day when you finished it and realized. Work. You had work in 30 minutes.

Fyodor was watching you through the cameras again. He couldn't help but chuckling at his darling, frantically getting ready for work (only halfway succeeding) after losing track of time reading with the forgotten cup of half drank tea. He found it so adorable that you had gotten so immersed in the book he had given you not long ago. Calming down from his fit of giggles, he got back on track. Elimination. Either Dazai needed to die or his darling needed to disappear. He wasn't going to kill her, no. He was going to erase everything, even hinting at her existence. All except her. He'll deal with the details later. He needed to choose quickly before that devil got any ideas. Neither option was simple. In fact, both are quite tedious in nature. Killing Dazai would risk having to kill the rest of the agency and possibly the port mafia. Getting rid of all but you yourself would mean not only would she have to lose both her job and her house, but possibly her entire family as well. Killing them would be the simplest because it would count as a burglary if the pictures of her and past possessions were stolen. He knew that he himself could very easily delete any and all documents the government has on her. All he needs is pawns. Maybe he could "cash in a favor," as it's called. The chief justice should be a good start. It wouldn't take much convincing. Only a few pictures he has of the cheifs deeds will suffice.

And just like that, you disappeared by Fyodors' hands. He had to pull a few strings for living arrangements, but it was well worth the price. You now live in the most rural area you can think of. Not a house or road for at least a hundred miles and surrounded by trees. Yet, you still have no idea Fyodor caused this. You are the one who agreed to 'move into his place'. You are the one who resigned your job to be there. It's not like you knew that Fyodor set your place ablaze or made your boss' blackmail public after ridding your files or being the cause of your family's death.

After a few hours of reading in the enormous library Fyodor has, you hear the door open. In all his handsome glory is fyodor adorning his unshaka and a pure white faux fur cloak.

"Good morning, moya milaya"

P.s. Fyodor will remain my favorite BSD character 😊

[to-thelakes]

tear in my heart (1)

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

series summary; when you start on anti-depressants, you didn’t expect to be forced on a roadtrip with the punisher but life never really went how you wanted it to.

series warnings; slow-burn, discussion of depression and reader being on medication, angst, fluff, strangers to reluctant friends to friends to lovers, reader sleeps a lot, reader is emotionally all over the place, frank is his usual self

warnings for this part; description of a fight, reader is a little hungover, mentions of a night-out/drinking alcohol, strong language, men being creepy (not matt or frank)

masterlist

If you were completely honest with yourself, you don’t know why you had come into work. You were exhausted. You had only started the anti-depressants two days ago and you were exhausted. Also, you had a tiny hangover. You weren’t really supposed to drink on your meds but you never really listened to what anyone else said. You were regretting it now that you had a pounding headache and were stuck on shift until closing.

Going out had meant to be just some fun. You weren’t gonna drink but then these attractive men came up to you and they were buying you drinks and you didn’t know how to say no. The night had gone downhill from there but thankfully your roommate had helped you into bed when you returned back to your shared apartment.

It should have been a night that you regretted but didn’t have to think about again. Or at least that’s what you had hoped but as you walked through the bookstore, you heard the bell ding.

The bookshop you worked in was only a few blocks from your apartment. You had worked there long enough to know all the regulars and they knew you. It paid well considering and the owner loved you. He loved to tease you about anything and everything and his smile was one that brought you so much comfort. It reminded you of your dad’s smile even when your dad was halfway across the country, out of reach.

Despite all this, when you glanced up from where you were stocking books on the shelf, you saw a newcomer - not a regular - as he meandered down one of the aisles, blurry images of the previous night started to come back to you. 

He hadn’t immediately spotted you but he would any minute and you knew his face. It was one of the men that you had been drinking with last night and you felt your heart thumping in your chest. It had to be a coincidence that they were here. You tried not to think too much as you continued stocking up the YA section.

The man had been the one that had initially approached you the previous night. He had been charming and suave. He had made you feel special and so even when you were hesitant at the start, you settled into his presence quite comfortably. And when he had asked for you to join him at the table with his friends, you found it hard to say no.  He had been so kind. It was rare to find someone so openly charming and endearing without being overly sexual but he was and you had joined it.

Which as it turned out, was a bad idea. It turned out - according to Matt - that in your drunken state, you had managed to find yourself wedged between criminals. Criminals that were part of a drug ring that Matt had been trying to take down for months. Of course, Matt had only told you this once he had demanded that you get away from them and made an embarrassment of you.

But this man being at the bookstore had to be a coincidence. It didn’t make sense for him to be looking for you but that anxious thought lingered in your mind as you crushed the cardboard box you had just emptied. Your feet carried you towards the door into the back until there was a hand on your upper arm. Whoever it was, forced you to turn around and you came face-to-face with the man from the bar.

“Hi, is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, putting on your customer service voice and smile as you tried to pull yourself away from his grip. But it was strong, bruising and you could feel his blunt nails digging into your skin through your uniform.

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions,” The man responded, a charming smile spreading across his face. But now you could see right through it. In your drunken state, he had seemed so kind but now his charm was more predatory. It was a leer and you shoved your arm out of his grip, stepping away from him.

“Of course, just give me a minute. I need to dispose of this box in the back,” You retorted. The man narrowed his eyes and he opened his mouth but you had rushed into the back before he had a chance to deny you the opportunity. You slammed the door behind you, heart thumping in your chest and your boss appeared. Those usual kind blue eyes looked back at you and his bushy brown eyebrows pulled down, concern etched across his soft features.

“Another bad date coming to find you?” Your boss asked, a teasing smile on his face. You shook your head, heart thundering in your chest.

“No, I need to-” You cut yourself off not sure how to even begin and explain yourself. So, instead, you just said, “Can I call someone?” Your boss nodded and he watched as you rushed over to your bag, pulling your mobile from your pocket. In seconds, you shoved it up to your ear, calling Matt. You just prayed that he answered.

Your boss watched you for a moment before he decided to give you privacy and he went back to sorting through the new stock that had been delivered earlier that morning. Your eyes stayed closed as you waited for Matt to answer, foot nervously tapping and hand pressed against your head.

“Hey, aren’t you at work?” Matt’s voice filled your ears and the anxiety that was ready to boil over subsided a little. Matt would keep you safe.

“The guy from the bar. He’s here. He said he wanted to ask me some questions. I don’t know what to do. I think they’re going to-” You were panicking and rambling and Matt could recognise that tone anywhere which is why he promptly cut you off.

“Hey, calm down. Are you at work?” He asked, his voice was stern but calm. The fact that he wasn’t freaking out calmed you down and you let out a hum of ‘yeah’. You heard movement on the other end of the phone before Matt sighed, “Is there a way you could get out of the store without him seeing you?” You glanced over at your boss who was still sorting the new stock.

“I can’t leave, I’m on till closing and Lacey’s on shift but she’s still new,” You mumbled. Matt scoffed on the other end and you glanced at your boss who was now cocking an eyebrow at your words. You waved your hand dismissively, forcing a smile onto your lips before you turned your back to him. Making your boss worry was the last thing that you needed right now. He was already too kind to you and this was just something else you didn’t need.

“Listen, if he’s at the store, it’s not a social call. You need to get out before you get hurt,” Matt retorted, “I’ll send Karen to cover for you if that’s the problem.” Matt sounded frustrated and you glanced back at your boss before you sighed. You didn’t even know what to think. It had barely been two hours on shift and you didn’t want to disappoint your boss but Matt was right.

“I’ll work something out. I’ll text you when I’m home,” You decided. Matt let out a sigh of relief and you both said your goodbyes. As soon as you hung up your phone and put it back in your bag, your boss was looking at you expectedly. It was obvious to him that something was wrong and he wasn’t going to let you get away with not telling him. It had always be like that with him. He wanted to know his employees were okay.

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to tell me what that was about?” He asked as he gestured vaguely towards your bag. You sighed and ran your hands across your face before letting your shoulders drop.

“Something happened,” You began, not entirely sure how to word it. You didn’t want to worry him but you knew that you needed to give him something so that he would let you get the hell out of the store, “I saw someone at the bar last night and I pissed them off. I was drunk and now they’ve found me here and they’re really not happy with me and they’re not good people,” You were trying to be subtle but the way your boss’ face dropped told you that he understood, “I can’t deal with it. I’m tired and I need to talk to the police about the incident anyway. It’s just-” You were rambling again and you were glad when your boss cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t give me these excuses, just go,” He retorted, a wry smile on his lips, “Lacey can cover for you. It’ll give her a chance to prove herself.” Your boss winked and you chuckled softly at the man before you nodded your head. You grabbed your bag and pulled it over your shoulder, taking a deep breath. You walked up to him and hugged him. He chuckled and hugged you back, “Go get some sleep, okay?” He requested. You nodded and pulled back.

“I’m gonna head out the back, thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it!” You were smiling ear-to-ear and your boss simply waved his hand dismissively. You then rushed out of the backdoor and into the alleyway. You checked left and right before you rushed back to your apartment. The walk wasn’t far, a few blocks, and you were able to keep mostly to alleyways that were lit by the midday sun. You were safe from that man. 

And thankfully, you were soon back in the comfort of your apartment. The whole place was still clean. After you had woken up, you cleared everything up before you headed out to work. Your roommate left before you more times than not and so you always wanted to leave the apartment clean for when she got home off shift. 

The cleanliness meant that you didn’t have to worry about anything. Instead, you locked your front door and put your keys and bag on the side before you went over to your bedroom.

The adrenaline from the brief encounter was starting to dip now you were in the safety of your apartment and the exhaustion caused by your medication seeped right back in again. You grabbed your phone and texted Matt that you were home safe before you got into bed. You only managed to get your uniform off and replaced with a hoodie before you were snuggled up asleep in bed. You really were exhausted.

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of knocking against your fire escape. Your eyes blinked open, squinting across the room and quickly realizing that it had gotten dark. You had no idea how long you’d been asleep but you guessed it must have been at least eight hours since the sun had set. 

You heard knocking against your window again before you let out a disgruntled noise. A soft huff escaped your lips as you reluctantly slipped off the bed and pattered over to the fire escape. You grabbed some shorts on the way over, realizing that you were only in a hoodie and underwear. Matt couldn’t see you but you wanted to at least look somewhat presentable.

Matt’s frame was blocking out the moonlight but you could see that he was in his Daredevil suit. His shoulders were pulled taut but he seemed to relax slightly when he heard you moving around. You grabbed onto the edge of the window and shoved it up with all of your strength, a grunt escaping your lips from the effort.

“Hi,” You mumbled. Your voice was a little scratchy and it was obvious that you had just woken up as you stepped back, pulling the shorts on as you went. You rubbed the crusties from the corners of your eyes as he stepped through into your bedroom and you crossed back over to your bed. You didn’t feel any less tired. The antidepressants were really doing a number on you and you wanted to be awake and alert but there was a cloud of tiredness hanging above your head.

“Hey, was everything okay at work?” Matt asked as he pushed the window down to stop the cold night air blowing through. You nodded your head in response, pulling the covers around yourself as you curled up against the headboard. You really wanted to go back to sleep but you knew that you had to deal with this conversation first.

“Boss gave me the time off,” You muttered. Matt nodded his head and his head suddenly twitched to the side. His face pulled down into a frown but he refocused on you when he realized you had begun speaking, “He loves me too much for his own good and it’s really annoying that he had to come in. I needed that money but no, that just isn’t important, isn’t it?” You muttered bitterly. Matt’s eyebrows furrowed at your ranting and you looked up at him, “What do they even think I know? Why would they want to speak to me?” Matt shrugged his shoulders in response. He didn’t entirely know either but it was his mission for the night to figure it out.

He hadn’t had a chance to listen to their operations between the previous night and now. Otherwise, he would have warned you sooner and he would have told you to stay at home; he would have done a lot more. You sighed and rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hands again.

“I’m so tired,” You muttered. Matt frowned as he looked back in your direction. You couldn’t see where he was really looking because of the red lenses of his helmet but you assumed he was looking at you.

“The new meds?” He asked. You nodded in response. He could tell that they were having an effect, physiological. It was weird but something seemed different about how your body functioned. He had noticed it over the past few days but he felt weird commenting on it, “How long have you slept?” You shrugged.

“A few minutes after I text you until when you knocked,” You retorted. Matt nodded and suddenly his head twitched the side but before he could say anything, your bedroom door opened. Your roommate was standing in the doorway and she stared at you in the gloom of the room before her gaze moved to Matt who hadn’t made it out of sight before he had already been spotted.

Quinn - your roommate - just stared at Matt for a moment. Her jaw had dropped slightly, frozen in place as she took in the sight of The Daredevil in her apartment, in her roommate’s room. Quinn had no idea what to say. Her eyes narrowed before she looked at you. Your face had dropped, unsure what the hell to say to this scenario. You could probably make something up but right now, in your sleepy haze, you had absolutely nothing that you could come up with.

“I always knew you were into some weird shit,” Quinn stated before she shook her head disbelievingly and glanced behind her towards the front door of the apartment, “There’s some guy here for you?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you glanced at Matt but he spoke before you had a chance.

“Tell him to leave,” His voice sounded different. He had made it deeper, trying to be more intimidating. You glanced between him and your roommate and she simply nodded her head and walked off to the front door, too confused and tired to even question why Daredevil was in her roommate’s room. You shot up from the bed and closed your bedroom door but before you could say anything to Matt, his face fell. 

Panic suddenly spread across his face and he pulled the bedroom door back open. You both came face-to-face with one of the men from the previous night. The man’s face twisted in annoyance at the sight of Daredevil and you stepped back into the bedroom. You didn’t know what to do and Matt took the lead, throwing the first punch.

You had seen Matt fight more than once but you had never been this close to it. You took another step back as Matt managed to land another punch. But the man was getting his fair share of hits and the two moved into the main room of your apartment. 

Your gaze flicked off of them to your roommate - Quinn. Her head was bleeding and she looked dazed as she lifted her head up. Her eyelids were hanging heavy and you glanced from her to Matt.

He was fine. You knew he’d be fine so you made a break for it across the room but before you could get to Quinn, the man grabbed your arm. He threw you into the wall by your bedroom door and your head smacked harshly against it, paint chipping off the wall. You cried out in pain, cradling your head as Matt grabbed onto the man and the pair crashed through the dining room table.

From across the room, Quinn whimpered as she watched Matt and the man in horror. The table crumbled beneath the two heavy bodies and you flicked your gaze away from the table to Quinn. You had to protect her even if your head was throbbing in pain. She hadn’t signed up for any of this and it was your fault. It was your fault this was happening. So, while the man seemed to be occupied exchanging punches, you made a break across the room again.

But, the universe really wasn’t on your side, because as you stood up. The man had kicked Matt off and turned his sight on you, grabbing you. He yanked your hair back and you cried out as you lost your balance, falling on your ass. The man didn’t get another opportunity to hurt you though because Matt had wrapped his arm around the man’s throat, cutting off his airway.

You glanced back at Matt before crawling to Quinn. The woman was clearly dazed. Her gaze not quite focusing as you cupped her face, kneeling in front of her.

“Are you okay? Hey, Quinn? Look at me,” You mumbled out quickly. Quinn’s gaze slowly moved away from Matt - who had successfully forced the man to pass out - to you. You smiled softly, reaching out to check her face for wounds. There was just a cut across her forehead.

“What- Who- What just happened?” Quinn asked softly. Matt walked over, lingering over the top of the pair of you.

“You both need to get out of here,” Matt said before you got a chance to answer any of Quinn’s questions. His voice had dropped an octave again, doing his best to disguise his identity. You looked up at him, face crumpled.

“I don’t know where to go,” You stuttered out. He gave you a look and you quickly realized what that meant which quashed any fears that you had of suddenly being homeless.

“I can go to my sister’s,” Quinn said suddenly. You looked down at her, a frown spread across your face, “They’re not after me, right?” You shook your head.

“They’re after me. You’ll be safe, you just can’t be here,” you explained. Quinn sighed and she seemed to have come back to earth, no longer dazed by the fight that they had just witnessed. A hand ran through her hair and she nodded.

“I’ll grab a bag and head out. What are we gonna do about him?” Quinn asked, gesturing towards the man that was knocked out on the floor. Matt glanced at you and then at Quinn before he went back to the man.

“He’ll sort himself out,” Matt said. You nodded and then the three of you got into gear. You probably had a few minutes before the man came back to life and so, you packed a bag and Matt led the both of you out. Quinn was looking at the two of you strangely, as if she knew that it wasn't a coincidence that you happened to know Daredevil. It was like she knew something or wanted to ask something but she wasn’t saying a word.

When she got into a taxi, you both said bye and hugged each other before she disappeared. You then looked at Matt who had a frown on his face. He didn’t seem happy with anything that had happened tonight but he couldn’t really do anything about it. You were in danger and he had to try and do something to help you.

“Go to my place. I’ll be back later,” Matt said, not saying anything more than that. You stared at him, sighing before you nodded. He then disappeared up onto a rooftop while you headed down the block to his apartment. It wasn’t the first time you had gone to his apartment, you had been there more than once. He was one of your best friends but it still felt strange to be there without him or Foggy. The apartment building was eerily silent and when you unlocked the door with the spare key, the whole place felt unsafe.

But you knew that you were safe. You were at Matt’s place, you were safe. So, you locked the door and headed over to the sofa. You dropped your bag and took out the pill box, placing it on the coffee table. Your vitamins were in there, your tablets were in there. It was fine. You had been paranoid about forgetting them but you had them and you were safe.

You were just fine.

And so you curled up on the sofa and waited for Matt to come back.

-

Frank Castle was a fairly patient man but sitting on the roof waiting for Red was the last thing he wanted to be doing with his Saturday night. The two of them had places to be and shit to do. Yet, he was pissing about and leaving Frank in the freezing cold. To say that he was annoyed would be an understatement. He was ready to pummel Matt by the time that the masked man appeared on the rooftop. He looked roughed up already and that made Frank’s jaw tick.

“What time do ya call this, huh?” Frank snapped as he glanced over at the man. Matt scoffed as he walked over to Frank, perching beside him.

“I had something to deal with,” Matt stated bluntly. Frank scoffed and glanced around the city.

“We had a deal. I help you with this and I don’t pummel you. You’re making that real hard, Red,” Frank retorted as he glanced at Matt. Matt turned to look at him, clearly unimpressed by Frank’s frustration. Though, he hadn’t been in the freezing cold for the past hour alone.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Matt asked. Frank looked at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question.

“I finish the business, I start. Now, where are these assholes?” Frank asked, not wanting to talk to him anymore than absolutely necessary. The next morning he planned on getting the hell out of town so he needed this done, tonight. And if he got his way, it would be.

<3

next chapter

[skekdris]

Sketch of my OC/Species graciously brought to life by @aryeonos , The Arhulian. Needless to say, a huge, six-eyed, badger-centipede is both intimidating and hard to depict visually. Thanks to Ary again for assisting me with editing and proof reading. I don't think my story could have reached this level of polish if I did not have my love to bounce it off of. <3 Down below is a short story of them meeting the Amaranthine characters by @kwillow and @chocodile . They are in for a surprising house guest, that's for sure! Seems like a good way to get a feel for a character is to put them up against some "knowns" to see how the character would react in those circumstances. Acts as a good backdrop to flesh them out from there. As for right now, I'm still 'sculpting' out a lot of the Arhulian lore and worldbuilding. Initially the story was supposed to be with Hyden, Alex, and Theo, interacting with my Arhulian character 'Niadris' - but the way things were written out and flowed - it turned out to be Alex, Theo, and Ridge instead. I really wanted Hyden to meet them in this story, but then again, Hyden being deadass asleep while all the interesting stuff happens sounds like a pretty Hyden-y thing to do. Anyways, onto the story. It's somewhat of a long read, at ~7k Words. There's a lot of character interaction, so I hope stayed close to how the three would react in such a situation!

The Visitor

It was an afternoon in middle spring - which for this area of the continent meant that if the weather was good, temperatures would rise above freezing. The cool air with the humidity of melting snow seemed pleasantly mild compared to the long, bitter winters. In the study of a large manor on the outskirts of a town called Northcrest; an older, corpulent, Rabbit with a cracked gem embedded in his forehead was gripping the sides of his hair in frustration. "A person of my mind, MY intellect should have solved this weeks - no - months ago!" Hyden snarled to himself. 

"You sure you aren't just stalling for time to enjoy your little 'vacation' here?" A Bat leaning in the doorway chided. 

Hyden put on a despondent look. "I am trying, Ms. Solokov. Really, in earnest. The faster I can put an end to this disaster, the faster I can rebuild my oh-so woefully maligned reputation!" He said, crumpling up another paper of scribbled equations of arcane theory, tossing it into a waste basket. 

Alex wanted to retort, but it would just be another fight, another exchange of barbs like all the other times before. She rolled her eyes, then stood up to wander out of the office. "Hopefully Ridge gets back soon. I want someone I can actually talk to." She thought, returning to her room to take stock of her things.

Hours later, as the sun was setting - casting the hillsides in an amber glow, a brawny teal Shark bundled in a heavy coat returned. In both of his arms were large crates, as well as canvas bags hooked around his arms. The door was opened by a short, roundish fancy Rat. "Oh, do make sure you remove your filthy boots at the entryway, I don't want any melting slush being tracked all over my estate." They sneered in their shrill voice. 

"Yes, of course Theo. I wouldn't want to sully your pristine hardwood floors." Ridge responded dryly. Before the Rat could retort, the large Shark added. "Anyways, here's everything you had on your shopping list, these supplies should keep us stocked for a few weeks before another trip." Preemptively cutting off Theo again, Ridge blurted out: "Oh, and I trust 'ya have the perfect spot to put everything. I wouldn't want to scramble 'yer pantry, after all." 

Theo scowled at the bulky outsider, their constant pokes and attempts at wit got under his skin. He knows Ridge was trying to get out of putting away the groceries after a long walk - but he was also right. "Yes, of course. As the sole keeper of this venerable estate, it is my duty to tend to all it's functions, right down to it's inventory." Theo stated. There would have been more words to shoot back, but Theo's duty as a host kept him from slipping any further into banter with his guest.

After dropping off the groceries for Theo to tend to, Ridge went off to search for alex. The manor contained more rooms and floors than any “house” he had ever set foot in. It irritated Ridge to no end that the little rich Rat insisted that the doors remain closed at all times, so he had to peek into half a dozen rooms and three closets before finding the reading room his friend was residing in. The weary Shark entered, flopping down on a chair; glad to be able to finally sit down on something soft and cushy after his trek. Alex smiled, welcoming him. "Your shopping trip took a long time Ridge, I know he asked you to grab a lot. Is everything alright?" The Bat queried.

Ridge sighed. "Yea... well maybe. Just some things 'goin on." He added before continuing. "I know you don't get out much since you 'gotta keep an eye on them two, so I figured I'd go around town and pick up a little news for ya. See what's happening. There's been talk of some strange things going on. Livestock vanishing, hunting season has been looking a little sparse, and strange tracks out in the snow. People said they look like ski pole marks, I dunno what to make of it, I figured you uh - you have gotten out more than I have, so you'd have an idea."

Alex frowned. "Well, unless we are dealing with a roaming pack of wolves with skis, it's probably another one of those magic, twisted monsters that appeared ever since this whole catastrophe began." Alex sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yet another thing I ought to give that fat Rabbit a piece of my mind about." She said, her voice lowering, oozing with contempt. 

Ridge gave Alex a concerned look. "Yeah, well, if it was just that, that wouda have been one thing. But I saw those funny tracks near the path to the mansion... I don't have a good feeling about this."

Alex nodded. "I see. As much as I want to see that guiltless loaf ripped apart and eaten like cheap, stale bread by the very monsters he's created; we need him. I'll keep my eyes and ears out for anything strange." The following nights were uneasy for Alex. Each night, she'd take station and perch herself on one of the roofs accessible via a second story window, scanning the horizon for activity. Her large ears would catch whispers of something roaming in the distance, but she never could locate the source of the sound or what direction it was coming from. It always vanished just as she felt like she was homing in on her target.

She felt an uneasy tingle in her veins as her frustration mounted. If it was just wildlife, or even a monster, she surely should have spotted something by now. "Is anything really out there?" She thought to herself. After another uneventful evening watch, Alex swallowed her worries long enough to get some rest. She already has Hyden to keep watch over, she doesn't need whatever this is stealing her attention.

During the late evening; an hour past midnight, the manor was quiet, save for the crackle of the evening fireplace, as well as the stirring of but a single person; Theo. Between his duties as host, the sole caretaker for an entire servant-less manor, as well as his intense suspicion of everybody - save for his living historical idol Hyden - Theo was often the last person to go to bed, and the first to rise. This truncated sleep schedule, the bags under his eyes; they were merely the cost of business to keep everything in order. During the final rounds of his estate, a knock came from the door just as theo entered the foyer. The ears of the diminutive Rat twitched, his shoulders jerking at the sound of the knocking, which in the dead of night was as clear as his crystal wine glasses.

Tap tap tap. Another knock came. Theos' ears were not deceiving him. "Who in their right mind would visit at this godsforsaken hour?" Theo thought to themselves. This was abnormal. Tap tap tap. He rarely had visitors, ever. Let alone at a time like this. As he neared the door, he hesitated. The magical crystal embedded in his left hand felt strangely warm, and his hand was flush with blood flow. This was never a sensation he had experienced before - something was off. Tap tap tap. Before Theo could ponder any further, the fancy Rat scrunched his nose and bared a snarl as they heard more knocking pickaxing through his inner monologue. Whatever was going on, it was a terribly rude hour to be disturbing anybody, let alone him. Arming himself with some choice verbal barbs for his unwanted visitor, Theo opened the door.

As the door swung open, he was greeted by a silhouette of something massive - even taller than Hyden - though much of it's form was obscured by the evening darkness and their ebony fur, but what could be seen was not the body of a person. It was of some kind of beast. The fuzzy forelimbs of this creature ended in large, gently curved, off-white spikes, similar to that of a praying insect that Theo had only seen depicted in a historical encyclopedia. He looked up; his eyes met with the pairs it had on their badger-like head. The creature's triangular ears flicked, then it looked down at the Rat; the creature's three pairs of eyes were arranged above one right after the other - like the pips of the six side of a die. The eyes were pure black, save for the iris that shone like a purple ring in the light of the lantern. The words Theo had prepared found themselves lodged in his throat.

Aghast, the fancy Rat stumbled backwards, but his heel snagged on the edge of a floor rug, causing the Rat to land on his posterior, painfully pinching his tail. "Eek! M-monster... Gnnnk! Demon! Hng Aberration!" Theo exclaimed in a shrill voice as his rapid breathing caused him to fumble over his own words. He wanted to call out for help, to Hyden; even to the outsider, Alex. But he could not utter anything beyond sharp gasps as his breathing went to disarray.

The imposing creature looked at the panicked Rat and spoke to them. "Oh? Is that so? Would a monster choose knocking over divorcing your door from its frame?" The creature's voice was deep, coarse, and multitudinous as if three separate beings were speaking in unison. The creature remained in the doorway, peering at the quaking Rat, examining them and their actions closely. All six eyes were locked onto Theo, and the gaze made his fur stand on end. Theo already hated being stared at by just one pair of eyes. 

Theo sat on the floor, his whole body feeling flushed and trembling from his pounding heart. That thing had just spoken to him. In fluent dialect no less! Theo had heard of monsters before, but never an intelligent one - let alone one capable of speech. Something about this creature disturbed him to his core. His mind raced at kilometers a minute trying to process just what he was witnessing.

The creature's lips tensed as if it were about to speak; but then it stopped, before looking to its left. "It seems your sentry has been roused." The creature spoke aloud.

"Ess... Sentry?" Theo questioned. Then it clicked; it was referring to Alex. She always kept watch. How did they know about her? "Was this thing spying on us?" Theo exclaimed in his mind. The Rat felt dread bubbling up within him.

In one of the manor's guest rooms, Alex was sleeping. The tension of the last few nights had made deep sleep an impossibility. Thus, when the sound of Theo's raised voice came from downstairs, it was enough to wake her. She rubbed her eyes as she rose from the bed. "Was that Theo shout-" Her large ears flicked as they heard the sound of something unearthly and her fur stood on end. Without any further thought, her body reacted and she grabbed her hunting rifle, sprinting to the location of the sound. Fortunately, her eyes were fully adjusted for the night, and she made it to the foyer without a stumble despite her scramble. 

She sprang into the foyer, stopping herself with the guard rail of the grand staircase. Alex laid eyes on the huge beast in the doorway, it's six met with hers. Alex was prepared to shoot, but the violet irises of the beast were staring right at her the instant she rounded the corner into the foyer; as if it already knew she was going to be there. The sight made her freeze. "Theo! What in the hells is that!?" Alex exclaimed.

"A monster!" Theo shouted.

"A visitor." The creature stated, it's baritone, stentorian voice matching Theos' shouting in volume.

No longer half asleep with no obstructing walls to deaden the sound, Alex heard the creature's course, multitoned voice clearly. "Did that thing... just speak?" She said aloud.

Before either Theo or Alex could interject, the creature filling the doorway spoke to the two startled people in the foyer of the manor. "Yes. I did. Your language is relatively simple compared to my native tongue." The beast stated flatly. 

"Meh Ms. Solokov! It's egk dangerous! It's bee been spying on us!" Theo said, his chest still struggling to steady itself. 

Alex kept her rifle leveled at the beast in the doorway. She wasn't sure if Theo was speaking the truth, or was just in shock. "Okay, who and what the hell are you?" The Bat said, keeping her focus on the creature.

They replied. "I am Niadris. I am what your tongue would call... an Arhulian." 

Alex looked at Theo in bewilderment. Theo glanced back at the Bat. "Are-rule-lee-an?" Theo said aloud, sounding out the word by each syllable. "In all my eghk studies. I've never heard of such a species!" Theo said. The Rat's eyes glanced back to the creature in the door with fear and revulsion. "More like 'arhulian'." Theo muttered under his breath. One of the Arhulian's pairs of eyes shifted it's gaze back to the Rat.

"After knocking on your door and introducing myself, you suggest that I am a feral beast?" Niadris queried, in their deep, hellish voice causing the Rat's fur to stand on end as they swallowed nervously. The 'Arhulian' did not just speak their language, but had an advanced understanding of their grammatical structure. The implications of this rattled Theo as he shuffled back to get further away from this creature.

Alex took a deep breath as she maintained composure, interjecting before the situation escalated any further. "Alright, 'Niadris', why are you here? Theo said you were spying on us." She questioned, her rifle planted firmly in the direction of the unplanned visitor. The Arhulian was unfettered by her brandishing a gun right at them. Did it really not know what a gun was, or worse - did it not care?

"Spying? Given that your kind have responded to me with either fear or hostility on sight, I must carefully select when I reveal myself and to whom. It is no act of subterfuge. It is a necessity. Even now; you have your armament at-the-ready just from me knocking on your door and speaking to you. I wanted to speak to an individual, then have them inform the rest of my presence. Do you really imagine this going any better if I had been more bold in my approach? Depicting myself as non-threatening would be an order of magnitude harder with gunshot wounds." Niadris snorted, all three pairs flicking their gaze to Alex before one of them returned to Theo. The multiple pairs of eyes looking in different directions at the same time perturbed them both. 

"I eghk do agree that your appearance ehm elicits revuls-" A second pair of eyes locked onto him again. " -ghn a response." Theo said, catching himself. The Arhulian did not speak a word, yet the message was clear; it tore Theo up on the inside to even dare admit, but so far this 'visitor' has shown themselves to be quite capable of not letting verbal barbs go unnoticed.

Alex lowered her rifle, still keeping both hands on it. "I suppose that's... a pretty good point actually." She sighed. "But still, why are you here?"

Niadris spoke calmly. "We share a common enemy. Despite my imposing stature and prowess, physical might is all but meaningless against a foe that subsumes and absorbs all flesh that it touches." Alex's eyes widened as the creature continued explaining. "All my strength and ability are merely tools to avoid becoming a hearty meal in the wake of such a lurid foe." Both Theo and Alex became less defensive as Niadris continued. "...It is a terrible entity that digests without need or moderation. It is a blight upon this world."

Alex and Theo knowingly looked at each other. 

"Yeah. We call it the Shadow." Alex said. Her mind feeling a slight amount of guilt over her hostility, her rifle lowered completely. 

"Hrm Yes. In that regard we do have a commonality..." Theo relented, stopping before adding too much.

The fancy Rat composed himself enough to stand back up, and brush himself off. "So, that brings us to the matter at hand. How did you find out about our mission? I don't think anyone would have snrk told you about Rising Dawn."

The Arhulian stared with no reaction. "Rising Dawn? Is that a title?" They paused before adding: "No, I sensed that this place had an anomalous aura, so I studied you from afar before approaching." 

Theo raised an eyebrow. "What is this urgh 'aura' you speak of? What do you mean by sense?" He asked, his voice dripping in incredulity.

"My kind - Arhulians - have a 7th sense if you will. We can see the 'aura' of living things." Niadris explained. "This place caught my attention because I observed a strange aura much further than I would normally be able to; I was at the crooked sign above the red roofed well when the aura became detectable to me. My normal range is about three-fifths of that."

Theo and Alex raised both their eyebrows. "That's half a kilometer!" They both exclaimed in their minds.

"As I approached and could resolve things in detail, I noticed five distinct auras." Niadris raised their scythe-like forelimb and pointed in various directions. "Two crimson auras; one that luminesces brightly." Niadris pointed to Theo before continuing. "Crimson auras? Is it referring to our catalyst stones?" Theo thought to himself as the creature explained. The Rat was still skeptical, as him being a witch was public knowledge after all. As the Arhulian continued narrating, they mentioned: "The second crimson aura seems faint - as if it were hibernating or asleep." Theo's face twitched in shock as the creature pointed to the direction of the room Hyden was currently residing in - an interior room with no visibility from the outside, nevermind the fact Hyden's presence was supposed to be hidden. Niadris, still speaking: "Then there are two mundane auras - one of them with a notable a tendency to perch from a defensive vantage point." The Arhulian stated, pointing their bone-tipped forelimb to Alex.

"Is that how he snuck past me? He knew I was on watch and avoided me?" Alex pondered. 

"Then lastly, the fifth aura. A writhing, squirming mass of discordant signals, that seethe and roil like water itself harboring anger, yet cannot move freely. As if it were sealed away." Niadris pointed in the direction of where the shadow sample was.

Alex and Theo were at a loss for words. There was no way this thing could have such intricate knowledge of Theo's manor without ever having set "foot" inside. 

Before either could speak up, the Arhulian spoke again. "Another one of your kind has roused. It is the other mundane aura, and a voluminous one at that. They are to the northeast, and heading in this direction. Could you inform them of my presence before another outburst happens?" Niadris asked with a dry tone.

Alex was stunned in disbelief. They must be talking about Ridge!

Theo butted into the conversation: "I'm not sure what kind of feh fool you take me for, but I highly doubt you really have such a fantastical ability. Really, you can 'see' us through solid walls?" Theo's mind was a whirlpool of doubt and skepticism. The creature's claims seemed too extraordinary to be true. Theo was not sure how, but it has to be some sort of ruse! In the depths of the Rat's mind, the idea of this creature being able to observe him constantly, undetected was a soul-chilling prospect that fundamentally violated his privacy. It has to be a ruse.

"Yes." Niadris bluntly responded.

"Hmph Well, it was a cunning deception, but I'll have you know, our guest is residing in the southwest portion of my manor. And even if they were where you claimed to be, you aren't even looking in that direction..." Theo scoffed. As he was monologuing, the Bat's large ears flicked as she picked up the sounds of footsteps... coming from the northeast. 

Niadris did not care to let the Rat finish before speaking, their baritone, multitudinous voice overpowering the Rats' in the conversation. "You have previously admitted to having no information about my species, yet you are presuming knowledge of my capabilities?" 

Theo was incensed at being interrupted. "How dar-"

Ridge entered the foyer, scratching his back with a pillow in the other hand. "Hey, uh, is there a barbershop trio here, who are you talki-" The large Shark froze in place as his eyes met with the strange, badger-like creature filling the doorway. "Ah! uh! What in the goddamn...?!" Ridge dropped his pillow and adopted a boxing pose as best they could as their limbs still felt heavy from their evening nap. The Arhulian's eyes devoted a pair to focus on each individual in the foyer.

"Calm down, Ridge! This thing isn't... being dangerous. It wanted to talk to us." Alex blurted out with as much composure as she could muster. 

Theo's face was flush as he exclaimed. "What are you doing there? Your room is on the other side of the manor!" The Rat's entire body tingled as any shred of doubt he could summon was scalded away by the unfolding situation. 

The muscular teal Shark stammered, as so much was happening all at once for him. "Uh, well, I wandered around and dozed off in one of the book rooms. I got up because it was cold, then I heard this guy... thing?" Ridge said, glancing at Niadris, reluctantly dropping their boxing pose and grabbing their pillow.

"Well, at the very least, Niadris isn't lying to us." Alex said exasperated. Though she too, had her doubts about this 'visitor', she did not appreciate Theo antagonizing them openly. Theo glared at her. So far the Rat has shown hospitality to the outsider, but this jab from her really rubbed him the wrong way. In the uncomfortable silence of the foyer that was now getting cold due to the door still being open, Alex's mind sparked with an idea. "Wait a minute. Your special 'sense' is omnidirectional? And it works through stuff?" The Bat thought aloud, raising her voice as her ideas congealed before her. "You mentioned exactly where our sample of the Shadow was earlier too... Theo! They can detect the Shadow long before any of us can see it coming! Don't you realize how insanely useful that could be?"

The fancy Rat stammered as they choked on the shreds of their ego. "Hhhhnngh I'll... take that into consideration... Eugh if we are going to board this creature. I just hope it's civilized enough to behave as a guest." Theo sneered.

The Arhulian made a grin, showing off their sharp, carnivorous fangs to the Rat, as well as the deep plum hue of their interior flesh. "Considering your kind have reacted negatively to my being - often with violence - my exposure to 'civilization' has been quite limited. If my lack of knowledge bothers you so greatly, perhaps you could take some time to elucidate on the matter of guest-hood~" Niadris smirked. 

"Grrrr... Perhaps I will." Theo scoffed. “But I hope you know, we do not have the culinary erk inventory for something of your dietary needs.” Niadris nodded. “I am more than capable of procuring my own food, so you will not have to worry about my nutrition. In fact, I had eaten a deer a few days prior. I should be satiated for several days at least.” The fancy Rat raised an eyebrow. “You have, egh ‘eaten’ ’a’ deer? I think your grammar is a touch underdeveloped. Don’t you mean you caught a deer? hmph What did you do? Swallow it whole?” Theo sarcastically remarked. “I had to break off those meddlesome antlers, but yes, I devoured it whole.” The Arhulian responded nonchalantly. The foyer was stunned. “A-an entire deer?” Alex said incredulously. Theo’s face contorted with disgust. The thought of a creature this size ingesting prey whole - and possibly alive - summoned dreadful imagery in his mind. “So… that would uh... ‘splain the missing animals without a trace. Heh, we thought that was the Shadow ‘fer a moment there.” Ridge chuckled nervously. Theo did not relish being in the room with this lurid creature any longer than he had to. He turned up his scrunched nose before walking off. He was ready for this evening to end. “As I was stating; ehm your first lesson on etiquette will be on closing the door. You're letting all the warm air escape!" Theo spoke as he slinked to the other room, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from his suit pocket, needing something to take the edge off. As he puffed on his cigarette, the tingling in his hand faded.

Niadris scuttled forward into the foyer, bowing their head to ensure they cleared the door. As the Arhulian entered, their full figure and size was apparent to Alex, Ridge, and a distant Theo peeking from a doorway. Though superficially resembling a badger from the neck up, from the neck down; the Arhulian had a long, Myriapodic form with six pairs of pointed, centipede-like legs. The limbs started off fleshy, covered in fur, then transitioned to softly curved limb spikes that were off-white in color, like bone or horn after the third joint. The Arhulian's body was long and arranged like that of a large, furry millipede or caterpillar, albeit with no segments. Despite their body arrangement, the Arhulian was mammalian - bone clad in flesh - yet clearly centipede-like in their silhouette and locomotion. Niadris closed the door with a light slap of their long, tapered, heavy tail.

"Holy shit. That's... not somethin' you see everyday." A tired Ridge said, not entirely sure if they were still dreaming or not. 

Alex looked at Niadris and saw that they had the strap of what appeared to be some kind of homemade rucksack across their chest as their only article of clothing. "Yeah, I was about to ask about the lack of clothes... but I guess there's nothing in your size." She remarked lightheartedly, trying to break the tension in the air.

"No. There is not. My metabolism can vary to maintain body heat relative to the environment, so clothes would be unnecessary. In addition, they would both limit my range of movement, and be unlikely to hold up to the kind of abuses my hide experiences." Niadris responded earnestly.

The teal Shark spoke up once there was a gap in the conversation. "So, uh... How do I say this? I don't see nothin' down there, and yet your voice is deeper than an Ironfrost coal mine. What are ya? A guy or girl?" The Shark asked. 

Alex's face went wide with shock before scrunching back down into a glare at the Shark. "Ridge! That's terribly rude to just go and ask someone a thing like that!"

Niadris interjected. "There is no need to chide him. It is a perfectly legitimate question. After all, that den keeper did state there appears to be no documentation whatsoever of my kind in their knowledge base - and given the encounters I have had - neither do the rest of your kind for that matter. To answer the first question, my reproductive organs are housed internally to protect them from the rigors of life. Likewise, the answer to the latter question is that your binary terms are insufficient to describe me. Arhulians possess both the ability to fertilize a mate, and sire children. We are hermaphroditic." Niadris explained. "Your language is... limited in expressing my form, so gender neutral terms will be adequate."

Ridge's face was flush with embarrassment as he realized how personal and blunt his question was. "So yeah, on that... if 'yer talkin' about mates; doesn't that mean there are more of 'you' out there?" The shark said sheepishly, trying to adjust the course of the conversation away from his prying faux pas. He clutched his borrowed pillow tightly. Talking to this thing still seemed like a surreal dream to him.

The Arhulian was silent for several seconds. Up until now, they had been immediate to respond to questions. Alex and Ridge glanced at each other. "My kind are not native to this land. In addition, I have traveled a substantial distance. It is highly unlikely you will encounter another Arhulian." Niadris stated, with a briskness to their voice. 

Alex looked down at Ridge from the second floor and gave Ridge a gesture to "Cut it out." Ridge gave a small nod. Alex sighed. "Well, it's safe to say your arrival has been quite a surprise. I think we all should get some rest and continue your introduction properly tomorrow." The Bat said, waving her arm for Ridge to come over to her.

Ridge added: "Oh, uh, I don't think we have any beds that'd fit you. 'Fer now you'll have to stay in the reading room I was in. Theo's got a big cushy rug in there. The fire is dyin' down, but I'm sure it's better than out there, heh.``

Niadris gave an acknowledging nod while their triangular ears perked up. They then pointed in the direction of the room Ridge came from with their uppermost arms, that had regular - albeit large, clawed - hands instead of a fang-shaped spike like the rest of their limbs. The shark raised an eyebrow. 

"Hey, uh, how do ya know what room I came from?" Ridge asked, confused. 

Alex sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah... I'll explain that in a minute, Ridge. I think Niadris here wants some space, they need a moment to relax after the 'welcome' we gave them." She said, physically pushing on the Shark to usher them out of the foyer.

It was true that they wanted to be left alone. Niadris had little experience dealing with people. They felt exhausted having to keep their composure on total lockdown to appear as non-threatening as possible. Niadris was eager to find this "reading room" Ridge had mentioned. Spatially, they knew exactly where it was based on the Shark's location in their mindsphere. On the other hand, their mindsphere did not consider walls, thus the Arhulian had to take a few moments to figure out how to navigate the interior of the manor to the reading room. 

Despite their size and bulk, the sound of the Arhulian's centipede-like legs scuttling across the floor were much quieter than one would anticipate. Niadris made it a point to take light steps, and maneuver on rugs and carpets to minimize sound. Not out of etiquette, but as a means to hone their stealth. Never before Niadris had such an opportunity to interact and maneuver around people in close proximity in a safe environment.

The Arhulian noted a single aura tailing him; it was the bright, crimson one of Theo. Not desiring further drama, Niadris elected to ignore the Rat's presence as they made their way to the "reading room" Ridge had spoken of. The comforts of fire and shelter were secondary to the Arhulian; what had piqued their interest was the very title of the room itself. Alex and Ridge were returning to their rooms, trying to process the evening's events. "They were... quite the visitor." Ridge said, his tone unsure. Alex looked down at the floor as she walked. "Yeah. Something about them makes my fur stand on end. It's like a creeping feeling going up my back." The tall Shark looked down at his troubled friend. "Are... are ya afraid? They give me the creeps somethin' fierce too." The Bat exhaled. " I... I don't know Ridge. I had my gun pointed right at their head, but they were unfazed. Niadris seemed to know what guns are, yet they treated me like an afterthought. They don't seem dumb either; they gave Theo a good run for their money in a debate. So either they got a damn good poker face, or... this 'Arhulian' might be even tougher than it looks." Alex trailed on, the confidence in her voice gone now that she was in private with the one person here she could truly consider her friend. "...I'm a soldier. A hunter. I've had scraps with big game, I've fought people bigger than me. Even gave ol' lard chops a bloody face." Alex said, referencing her brawl with Hyden. "But that creature, it isn't like anything my training could have prepared me for. I don't fancy getting into a fight with them." Ridge scratched his fin. "So, was letting 'em in really a good idea?" "Personally, I think their alibi passed the sniff test. They could have attacked any time and hit us when we couldn't see it coming. If they wanted to make a move, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be playing mind games like a certain someone I know. We have that going for us at least." Alex paused. "Even so, I feel like they aren't telling us everything." Ridge nodded. As they reached their bedrooms, the two parted ways, then closed the doors to their rooms.

In the other portion of the manor, the Arhulian arrived at the reading room; their three pairs of eyes widened in delight. Wall to wall shelves lined with books! Niadris had very limited experience with books from their fleeting encounters - or spoils - from outsiders. Most of those books contained relatively uninteresting data like logs or journals, or completely fictitious tales. Here however, had an assortment of books on a large variety of subjects and organized quite neatly. The Arhulian removed their handcrafted backpack and pulled something out. It was a thick leather-bound book. It was plainly covered, with the sole word "Dictionary" for the title. 

Niadris' chest seemed to squirm and writhe all on its own, followed by the faintest of popping and cracking of stiff joints. With a sound of flesh being pulled taught, numerous pairs of spindly arms came slinking out from in between the creature's ribs on the sides of their chest! These arms were very thin; near-skeletal in appearance. The hands on them were clawless, and consisted of three vaguely conical digits - two fingers, one thumb. These limbs were much slower and deliberate in their movements, and the leathery skin they had was a very deep plum color, almost black. In their travels, Niadris had quickly learned that the pages of books often were too delicate for their stronger, clawed, "normal" arms.

After tenderly putting away their dictionary, the creature's three pairs of eyes darted all across the room, scanning the spines of each book for topics of interest. The low-light conditions of the dying fire was more than enough for the Arhulian to discern the titles. Then, the Arhulian scuttled across the perimeter of the room, picking out a dozen books before returning to the center of the reading room by the smoldering fireplace. The huge, badger-centipede-like being then rested their long form on the floor, their body and abdomen landing on the carpet with a plompf. Niadris laid out three books with the covers open, while each pair of eyes scanned it's own book.

Theo had been quietly observing the beast from a hidden spot in another room through a peephole; and totally-not-a-hole that he had not gotten around to patching yet. The Rat monitored them carefully, shuddering at the sight of the numerous lanky arms protruding from the Arhulian's chest, and those arms touching his books. Yet, his attention was stolen when he witnessed this creature reading three books at a time! Was this creature really that capable of absorbing knowledge? Then, another thought crept into his mind. "Wait, who taught them to read in the first place?" As his mind contemplated, Theo's eyes widened when the creature looked up, and peered straight at him. Eye to eye contact, as if the wall parting them was not even there. Niadris gestured "come over here" with one of their their large, scythe-like forelimbs that were mounted below their exterior arms. Theo ducked down from the footstool he was standing on - nearly falling off in the process - then he covered his face in embarrassment. It seemed like there really was no hiding from this damned creature.

Letting out a sigh, Theo came to the reading room. The warm tingling sensation in his left hand returned. Was his catalyst stone reacting to this creature? The fancy Rat took slow, cautious steps forward. "It is remarkable. A wealth of knowledge at my fingertips." Niadris spoke aloud. They continued. "For so many years, I had to learn matters in direct fashion. I knew your kind stored information on physical documents, but I never could have imagined this place being lined to the ceiling with this treasure." When Theo was up close to Niadris, and composed enough to listen clearly, the Arhulians stentorian voice seemed to be composed of multiple octaves speaking in perfect unison. The scholarly Rat recalled the Arhulians' comment on their native language... “If the multiple octaves can be modulated separately, the grammar of this species could be phenomenally intricate!” However, Theo had more pressing things on his mind than appealing to his inner linguist, and set aside that tangent in his mind for later. The voice had strong projection, and the beast seemed to be making a concerted effort to whisper - which was speaking volume to Theo’s delicate ears.

Theo initially had some words for the Arhulian prepared, but the "treasure" comment gave him pause. The Rat stood there in silence for several minutes as the Arhulian continued reading what appeared to be volumes from an encyclopedia series, watching their thin ribcage arms turn the pages of each book. The hands were slow, deliberate, and delicate. Near by was a cloth that seemed to have been borrowed to wipe the oils from the creature's hands before interacting with his books. The rat let out a swift, small exhale. This monster treated his things better than some people he's hosted. Theo then spoke up. "At least someone else besides His Grace sees my library for what it is, and not eguh ornamentation. Though, I am surprised you would have any academic interest at all." Theo's words trailed on. Niadris shot a glance at him. "However, I presume it is not a completely irrational observation; a thing like you just can't sceh scuttle into a library. Which begs the question at hand, just who would teach you to read?"

The Arhulian paused, before giving Theo their full attention. "I... am not sure." They responded.

"What." Theo said, the word seemingly having spilled out of his mouth in disbelief. "What do you mean you don't know? How ek! How is that even a facsimile of an answer!? Didn't your moth-er well, parents teach you?" Theo said, his voice raised in frustration.  

Niadris explained. "I do not know how I came to this knowledge. My earliest memories were of me being carried in my brood lord's abdomen. In my cradle of flesh, I would see and hear the world as they would. They would make demonstrations for me to observe as I nursed inside them. Their past memories would come to me in my dreams." As the Arhulian narrated, Theo shuddered at the prospect of being entombed alive and conscious in writhing, moist, undulating flesh from all sides. The fancy Rat took a deep breath and persisted in wading through the graphic descriptions from the beast - he wanted answers for the trouble he had gone through this evening. 

Theo waited for an opening in the creature's explanation to jump in. "Your kind- urk Arhulians, have hereditary memory? If so, how is it you do not know where your knowledge came from? Perhaps a past ancestor?" Theo questioned, only half seriously.

The Arhulian shook its head in disappointment. "If only the answer was that simple. It is far more complex, and I am uncertain of the details. I will tell you what I know." Theo rubbed his brow, adjusted his glasses, and nodded. "When I dream, I see fragments of memories; but these memories are abnormal. I see... a settlement, a school, memories of a life not only not that of my ancestors, but not of my kind entirely... and our biology cannot interbreed. That I do know." 

Theo gestured for the creature to get on with it. It was unconscionably late.

"I do have one possible hypothesis. There is another way our kind can exchange memories and experience. A ritual called Arhel-vāl." The strange word was accentuated by the Arhulian's multitudinous voice. "In your tongue, the closest word to it and what it means is amalgamation. Two mature specimens of our kind, typically one larger than their partner, subsumes the other into their flesh..." Theo's stomach churned at the vexing, visceral, possibly even vulgar imagery the Arhulian had verbally illustrated to him. "...but unlike ordinary cannibalism, the subsumed being is absorbed alive, mind intact, and two, become one." Niadris described, sparing no detail, much to Theo's revulsion.

The fancy Rat's tail quaked as his analytical mind began to put together a picture his sensibilities did not want to see. "You're hnnngh suggesting you have Esss assimilated a person?" He said, his mind racing as fast as his heart. "Oh heavens! Is that why it is here? To consume our minds and seize our knowledge?!" Theo's mind screamed.

The Arhulian peered down at the Rat. "Your luminant aura is flaring and seething. Do you find this knowledge troubling?" Niadris asked. Theo looked at the beast glaring down at him, his eyes wide with terror. "I see. You imagine me as your would-be predator." The beast let out a hushed, hellish chuckle with their deep, multitudinous voice. "Worry not, Theo. The ritual of Arhel-vāl is strictly between my kind; the 'donor' in question must be of the utmost certainty in their union - lest their knowledge be torn apart in a maelstrom of panic and fear. Your kind were never even considered a possibility due to the mental fortitude required to uphold the ritual. The being that amalgamated with me - whomever they were - must have been exceptional in their conviction."

The trembling Theo swallowed. "Well, erf I suppose that is good to know. Hrf Well, if you'll excuse me, egk I need to be getting some rest.” He stammered. “It is dreadfully late. And do take care to return my books exactly as you have found them. hgn It was painstaking to order them all as I have." With an abnormal spring in their step, the fancy Rat wheeled around and left the reading room with haste. 

"By the gods, what is that thing? How does it exist? And why did it show up to MY manor, of all places?" Theo cogitated. Their attempt to seek out answers seemed to have only made the question mark hovering over this mysterious creature even fatter. Theo paced around the manor, and passed by the room Hyden was sleeping in; him blissfully unaware of all that had transpired this evening. Theo raised his gloved hand, as if to knock on the door, but he stopped himself. "I can't disturb His Grace during his rest... but I must inform him of this aberrant thing as soon as I can." 

Theo, anxious and jittering, sat down on a cushioned chair outside of Hyden's room, fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. Alone with his thoughts his mind began to wander; all trains of thought leading back to that enigmatic creature. A particular moment from the Arhulian’s behavior stood out to Theo. The way they retreated to the library, and found refuge in books where they were not judged for their appearance or the mannerisms that others found odd... Theo shivered as he felt what was quite possibly a degree of familiarity with this creature. He did not want to fancy such feelings. The Rat shook their head and calmed their mind enough for exhaustion to take its toll; his head bobbed down, and the unlit cigarette in his hand fell onto the floor beside him as he lapsed into sleep right in his chair. The heavyset Rabbit snoozing under their blanket on the other side of the door was the only person in the manor to have had quality sleep that evening.

[mylostloversbookmarks]

thank you!! My request is: Joel x female reader. Age gap. They met after Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, they started to know each other, at first they kept it a bit like a secret but then, when things started to get more serious, they didn’t hide anymore. Things got so serious that after a while (not immediately, like a year or two) Joel asked reader to move in with him and Ellie.

Ellie loves reader and she’s more than happy that Joel found his special someone. Could you add a scene where reader is with Ellie one afternoon and they see Joel with a woman, acting really intimate, which connects to reader’s thoughts about Joel being a bit weird the previous days. She thinks he’s cheating on her, also because the woman is really close and intimate to Joel in that situation.

She wants to leave before he sees her but Joel notices her presence, tries to talk to her but doesn’t deny the accusations at first, (so a lot of angst!!!) which makes reader think she lost the love of her life.

They don’t talk for a few days and try to ignore each other when possible, despite living together. Ellie is sad and suffers from this situation. Joel loves reader too much to ruin things so he puts his pride aside and tries talking to her. They eventually talk it through, he was not cheating (choose whatever the alternative to that is!!) maybe a little fluff at the end or also something else? You choose!

also, if you have any rules or have triggers about something that I requested please let me know and change the story how you need to.

And I’m extremely sorry if this request is too long and detailed.

thank you!!!

Guiding Lights - a Joel Miller one shot.

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count - 8.7K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol consumption, , Sus!Joel, Soft!Joel, insecurities, suspected cheating, no actual cheating, I think thats all?

A/N - @addictedtotlou This is my first ever fic request and I cannot thank you enough for sending it through, and also for dropping into my inbox to let me know it was you that requested it! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy <3

Feedback, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

You often find yourself reminiscing on the day you met Joel and Ellie, it feels like forever ago now, though it has only really been a few years.

The winters in Wyoming were never kind, but that year, Mother Nature had been particularly cruel. Strong winds and vicious snow blizzards reduced visibility to almost nothing. You had heard those posted to the lookout stations talking over lunches and complaining about how bad the conditions were getting.

So in a bid to keep the good folks of Jackson safe, Tommy and Maria decided to double the number of patrols around the commune in an attempt to keep an eye on the horizon for any potential threats who could be hiding just beyond their sights.

Needless to say, it had been a rather slow work day in the Tipsy Bison, with the usual counting and re-counting of stock, checking on the latest brew of beers and whisky, ensuring everything was going as planned, and cleaning of the already immaculate bar, all finished in record time.

Expecting the usual after-work rush that never came, you sent the other two bar staff over to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needed any help with preparations for tomorrow's meals.

As the two said their goodbyes over their shoulders, you heard one of them mumble a shocked "What the hell?"

With your interest piqued, you stepped out from behind the old wooden bar and crossed the floor to the large square windows at the front of the building. Your eyes followed their gaze and watched as the afternoon patrol crew filed through the large wooden and steel-clad gates of the commune.

You waved as a few of your regulars passed you, a few tipping the brims of their ten-gallon hats. You quickly realised what had drawn your colleagues' attention when your eyes landed on two new faces in the middle of the crew.

The first newcomer was a man; he wore a thick brown winter coat and jeans that looked like they could stand up on their own, and you could see the toe of his work boot was mended with what looked to be duck tape. His eyes were sharp and focused, darting around him as if in search of someone or something.

Instantly, he gave you the impression of someone who had been on the road for quite some time. Having been there yourself, you felt a surge of sympathy for him, but you were still wary of him, not knowing why he had been brought inside the walls.

The second was a girl, whom you assumed to be the man's daughter; she was small and looked to be in her early teens. Strands of her tawny brown hair peek out from under her winter hat. big, bright eyes, taking in her surroundings in wonder, while the man stared straight ahead. The girl seemed to be unaware that all eyes were on her, from those who stood on the street to others standing in shop windows, just as you were.

You followed the other barstaff out to the porch and offered the girl a small smile as your eyes met, she quickly looked away without returning it. It wasn't often that Jackson took in new people, opting to keep off the radar to try and protect what you had here. Maria was on this afternoon's patrol and had no doubt made the call to bring the two into the commune.

As the crew passed, heading further into the small town, you saw the man's head snap to the left, and he opened his mouth.

"Tommy!" he shouted, his deep, booming voice ringing in the silence. In an instant, he was off his horse and running in the direction of the scaffolding that had been put up to repair some of the damage to a neighbouring building.

You watched on in stunned silence as the two men ran towards each other, unsure of what the newcomers intentions were, but before you had made it down the two steps of the porch, the man wrapped his arms around Tommy and began laughing, disbelief colouring the sound.

The two men stood embracing each other, both breathless from laughter, and you knew immediately who the newcomer was. This was Joel, Tommy's brother.

Tommy had spoken of him before; usually after one too many whiskies at the bar, he would open up to you about how guilty he felt about staying off the radio. He would say things like, "It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me, Y/N; what am I supposed to do? Turn him away?" and "One thing about my big bother is that he's persistent."

You had always offered words of understanding and comfort and almost always cut him off and sent him home after those conversations, knowing that no good could come from him drinking any more alcohol.

Part of being the town's main bar tender was also being a listening ear whenever someone needed it, but with Tommy, it was different. He and Maria had become your closest friends, and you would always be there when either of them needed you, working or not.

You always got the sense that something had happened between the two men that couldn't be fixed. As you watched the brothers reunite, you realised that the thought couldn't be further from the truth.

Maria caught your eye as she dismounted from her horse and jerked her head to the side, beseeching you to join her. You nodded at her and crossed the road to where she was standing, hitching her horse to one of the many posts dotted around town.

"Maria, is that who I think it is?" You asked her quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," she spat. "I don't know how the hell he found us out here." She continued, venom dripping from each word.

You knew that Maria had never actually met Joel, but from the stories Tommy had told you both in the early years, she knew what he was capable of and decided then and there that she did not like him. You, on the other hand, had a more objective outlook on things.

You were not involved in the same way Maria was, of course; she and Tommy were married after all, so you could understand her reservations when he opened up about his past with his brother and the things they had done and what they thought they needed to do to survive.

The problem was, Maria had been in Jackson longer than you and Tommy and therefore had less of an idea what a brutal hellscape it was outside the walls. Maria wasn't stupid; she knew that it was dangerous, but it had been so long since she had to live like that, to really be surviving, not trusting anyone you met along the way, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or if you were going to make it to worry about the next meal.

You, on the other hand, had lived that life for longer than you would like to remember, and though you didn't have innocent blood on your hands, they were far from clean. So you could sympathise with Tommy and the demons that clearly kept him up at night. So you felt the hatred that Maria has for Joel was a little unfounded.

"I'm happy he found him again," you admitted, unable to help the undercurrent meant by your works. What you really wanted to say was "This should have happened a long time ago if you had let him respond to Joel's calls on the radio" Meeting her narrowed eyes, you saw a flash of anger in them. No doubt you will get an earful for that comment later.

You knew what she was going to say: that Joel wasn't going to fit in here in Jackson, that Tommy was better off without him, and that you should keep a safe distance from him. But she didn't have the opportunity, as Tommy was already walking towards the two of you.

Joel had walked back to where the girl waited on her horse; a worried, almost disappointed expression crossed her face as he gestured towards Tommy. You watched as he gently helped her down from the animal, making sure she was steady on her feet before the pair followed behind Tommy.

"Y/N, Maria, ah… this is my big brother, Joel," Tommy announced, his tone a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"Hey, it's good to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you." You smiled kindly at him; he nodded once in response, his expression guarded.

"I'm Ellie! It's nice to meet you," the girl chirps cheerily before shoving her elbow into Joel's ribs. "Joel, say hello," she all but hissed at him, which makes you chuckle.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ellie." You beam.

"It's, uh, good to meet you," he managed quietly.

Two years later...

A loud knock at your front door startles you. Your hand flies to your heart as you curse under your breath. Who the hell would be calling on you at this hour of the morning?

You pad down the hallway and open the door to find Joel standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed keyed up, and your heart drops to your stomach; something must have happened.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is Ellie alright?" You squeaked at him, the panic rising in your chest causing your voice to go up an octave.

"Yes, darlin, everything's fine, Ellie's good; don't worry; I just need to talk to you about something, that's all," he assured you in his thick Texas drawl.

"Everything's good… but you need to talk to me about something at 6 a.m." You questioned him dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I promise everything is fine; I have morning patrol and was hoping I could catch you before I head out," Joel explains, the ghost of a smile playing on his plump lips.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense, sorry; c'mon, handsome." You laugh as you open the door for him to enter and close it after him.

He follows you down the hall into the small kitchen, lingering in the doorway and studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your figure as you pour him a cup of coffee. Strong, black, no sugar—just the way he likes it.

Turning with the mug in your hand, you let out a breathy laugh at the sight of him. He looked wired, far too awake for this hour of the morning. Was he sweating?

"Joel, baby, are you alright?" You ask curiously as you hand him his coffee and take your usual seat at the end of the dining table.

"Yeah, I just…I wanna ask you something but I don't know how" he confessed sheepishly, his large hand coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

"I'd like to think you know me well enough by now to know you can ask me anything." You said it with a smile, hoping to calm whatever was causing his nerves.

"Yeah, no, I know, I just don't want to freak you out; there's no pressure, and I understa-"

"Just spit it out, Joel." You interrupt him. In the two years you had been with Joel, you had never seen him struggle for words with you, and it was making you anxious.

"Okay," he huffs out, pulling the dining room chair out so he could sit facing you. He takes a long drink of coffee before continuing, and the suspense is killing you.

"So I was speaking to Ellie, and you know we both love you; hell, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me!" He chuckles fondly: "Look, we've been seeing each other for a while, and now that everyone knows, I think it would be good, you know, f-for Ellie if she had a…I dunno, like a mother figure on a more permanent basis." The words were falling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He desperately hoped he was making sense, but you still weren't understanding.

"Permenant basis? What do you mean?" You ask, confusion clear on your face, making him laugh again.

"Yeah, like on an everyday basis," he enphasises. Urging you to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Okay, um, I mean, yeah, I think that's a great idea. I love that kid. I will tell her about making an effort to hang out every day." You promise him sincerely and are touched that he thinks of you as a mother figure to his daughter.

"That's not really what I was thinking, baby; I mean, on a permanent basis, like you would live in the same house." He husks softly, his eyes searching your face for your reaction, and his heart sinks to his boots as he watches your brows knit together.

"Did you have another fight?" You ask him, reaching your hand up to stroke the side of his face, your thumb lingering on the heart-shaped patch of his beard where the hair refused to grow. "Ellie's always more than welcome to stay here when she likes, but Joel, I don't think her moving in here is the answer."

He takes your hand from his face and holds it between both of his; he huffs all the air from his lungs and slowly takes another deep breath. Straightening in his chair, he locks eyes with you.

"I knew this would be an easy ask, but I didn't imagine you making it this hard on me," he says exasperatedly, huffing out another loud laugh.

"I don't understand." Confusion layers your tone, and you are sure your face is doing the same.

"I'm not asking if Ellie can move in with you; I'm asking if… if you would like to move in with us Y/N" He admits. His brown eyes are soft and lingering on your face, and his thumb is tracing small circles on your wrist.

This was not the conversation you were expecting to have over your morning coffee; your brain was barely functioning, and your mind started to race. The last two years of your life, with Joel and Ellie passing by before you in a blur of colours and memories.

You had sympathised with Joel's struggles to adjust to life in Jackson, and given that you worked in the only bar in town, he quickly became a familiar face. You ignored Maria's warnings to stay away from him; after all, she didn't know him from Adam, and you felt it was unfair to judge someone on the things they had done as the world fell apart overnight.

So, slowly but surely, you found yourself at work, hoping each night that he would stop in so you could get to know him better, and he always did. Always opting to sit at the bar, despite there being plenty of more comfortable booths to sit at.

At first, it was always you who initiated the conversation, asking him how his day was, how the patrol had gone, and how Ellie was fitting in, and you listened tentatively to what little information he would give you. Until eventually, after a couple of months of the same routine, he started to open up to you.

He would ask you how you were, how your shift had been, if you had a good day off, and on occasion he would let slip that he "missed you yesterday" when he called in for a drink on his way home from patrol, only to be disappointed that you were nowhere to be found.

It made you giddy; he was on your mind constantly; it made you feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in your belly, but you thought it was only harmless flirting as there was a considerable age gap between you both, with Joel being in his fifties and you in your early thirties, you didn't think Joel would be interested in a relationship with you.

But how wrong you were! After a couple of weeks of late-night drinks after the bar had officially closed, Joel had bitten the bullet and asked you out, though he asked if you wouldn't mind keeping it between the two of you as he didn't know how Ellie would react to him seeing someone and you gladly accepted.

You understood that Ellie was and always would be his first priority, and you admired his unwavering dedication to her, especially after finding out that Ellie wasn't his blood relative; he had taken her on as "cargo," as he affectionately put it. As a way to get one step closer to finding his brother, but she had worked her way under his skin, much like she did with everyone she met. It was so difficult not to like her. With her quick wit and foul mouth, she never failed to make you laugh. She was definitely his daughter, blood or no blood.

The thought of Ellie brings your mind back to the question at hand: should you move in with them? Was now the right time? Was Ellie even okay about this? Did she even know Joel had asked you? Each question raced through your mind until your mouth found one it could form words around.

"What does Ellie think of this?" You asked Joel intently, reading his face for any signs of worry or panic at your question, but there were none to be found.

"I mentioned to Ellie a few months ago that I thought it would be nice if you were around all the time, and she agreed, and then I sat her down yesterday and told her that I was thinking of asking you today, and she was all for it. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, though; it's okay if it's too soon; you can say no, and we won't be offended in the slightest!" Joel assures you, his voice is low and genuine.

He lifts his right hand to the side of your face and gently brushes the hair out of your eyes, his calloused thumb stroking back and forth as you lean into his touch, allowing your eyes to fall closed. Taking a deep breath, you throw caution to the wind.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, your voice drops to a whisper. "Yes, I'll move in."

Suddenly your body was moving, and not by its own volition; your eyes were still closed, so your brain was having trouble registering what was happening. When your eyes flashed open in surprise, you were caught up in Joel's arms, spinning around your small kitchen with your feet no longer planted on the floor.

"Joel!" You squeal through breathy laughter, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I'm sure handsome, but I have one condition!" You warn him, arching a fluffy brow.

"Name your price, sweetheart," he smirks at you through the whiskers of his full moustache.

"I get to tell Ellie," You beam back at him, your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers scractching lightly at the curls that have formed there.

"I think she'd like that," he ghosts against your lips, lightly brushing his nose against your own until you lean up and crush your mouth to his.

Three years later...

It has been a hectic few weeks for the community in Jackson, working through yet another savage winter. You were just through the middle of it, and the end was in sight. The snow storms were not as frequent and the winds were not as wild.

Work has been keeping you busy. You are still the main bartender at the Tipsy Bison, but much to Joel's dismay, you have also picked up a few patrol shifts to lend a hand to Tommy as a few of the older patrol crew stepped back into other work duties due to ill health.

It has felt like months since you and Joel have spent any quality time together, despite living in the same house and working in the same community. Whenever you were both home, he seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he would only give you short answers before retreating into his own thoughts.

At first, you thought that he might just be stressed out from work duty or the weather, as bad as it has been, but as the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a growing sense of unease. You have never seen Joel act this way before, not with you at least, and you don't know what to do.

You miss his closeness; the late-night conversations at the bar while you finished up your shift—all of that has stopped, and no matter how many hours you spent trying to figure out why, you always came up blank.

So needless to say, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with Ellie this evening to help take your mind off your worries. You had stood under the shower for longer than you intended, just enjoying how the steaming water rolled down your tense frame.

With a sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel, headed into your bedroom to get dressed, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that the house had heating, an especially rare commodity with the world's current condition. Jackson really was a paradise of sorts.

"Ellie! C'mon kiddo, we're going to be late for the movie!," You shout from the bottom of the stairs, shrugging into your winter jacket.

Movie night Fridays have quickly become a tradition for you and Ellie, especially now that the winter has rolled back around and it's too cold to spend much time outdoors.

"Alright, I'm coming; Jesus, keep your hair on!" Ellie mutters as she makes her way down the stairs, where you wait for her.

"We only have 20 minutes before the film starts, and I know you're going to want to get snacks, so we've got to make tracks." You laugh as she rolls her eyes at you.

"Alright Mom," she mocks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You're such a little shit, you know that, right?" You tell her fondly with a warm smile.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," she grins.

"Ah, I see, and does Dina know all about your charm?" You playfully jab her ribs with your elbow, wagging your brows up and down.

"Ugh, you're so annoying; you know that, right?" Ellie counters, always so quick-witted.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," You repeat her words back to her, earning another eye roll.

The two of you leave the house and trudge out into the snow; thankfully, the blizzard has calmed, and now fat, fluffy flakes of snow flurry around you like something from a movie scene.

As brutal as they can be, you have never seen anything more beautiful than Jackson in the winter. It was like something you would see on a postcard of a ski village in the French Alps, all timber buildings and string lights illuminating the small town.

On Friday nights, the mess hall was turned into a makeshift movie theatre for the youth that lived in the commune, offering them some respite from the grind of daily life. It was complete with candy, drinks, and, of course, pop corn.

At first, Ellie hadn't seemed all that interested in going, not knowing many kids her age, but after a lot of coaxing and the promise that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to go again or even stay for the full movie, Though she quickly found her feet with Dina, the rest was really history.

"Where's Joel tonight? I thought he was going to come with us." Ellie asked curiously.

"Oh shit, I meant to tell you earlier; he said Tommy asked him to cover the evening patrol tonight, so he can't make it." You explained, not really sure why Tommy needed him to cover after already doing the afternoon patrol, but it must have been important, so you didn't give it a second thought.

You and Ellie walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful walk through town. You were about to ask her how she was getting on with her work detail when she came to a standstill.

"I thought you said Joel was on patrol tonight?" she demanded, her face contorting in confusion.

"Uh yeah, Ellie, I just told you that." You confirm, your own confusion mirroring hers.

"Then what the fuck is he doing in the bar?" She fumes, gesturing behind you to the window of the Tipsy Bison.

Sure enough, there he sits at the bar with Jenna. Joel was nursing a whisky, and she was playfully peeling back the homemade label of her beer bottle. They are sitting in the corner booth by the window, leaning towards each other to the point where their heads are far too close to be appropriate.

In that moment, your breathing stopped. Your stomach sank to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of panic and dread began to claw viciously from your chest up your throat, resting heavy on your tongue.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks nervously, not really sure what to do or say in this situation. It could be nothing, but even to her, it definitely looked like something.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Ellie, why don't you go on down to the mess hall, and I'll meet you there in a few?" You tell her more than ask, your eyes never leaving the window.

"No way fuck that I'm staying with you!" she demands, her eyes growing wet around her long lashes.

"No, Ellie, I need to talk to Joel; I will catch up with you in a few, okay?" You meet her eyes and nod in the direction of the mess hall. She only nods in response; your tone is final as she turns on her heel and storms towards the makeshift movie theatre.

What the fuck is happening right now? You trusted Joel; it never bothered you when the ladies in Jackson would bat their eyes at him or when their glances lingered a little too long. You took it as a compliment; hell, if you were them, you would stare too.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of honesty and trust from the very beginning. You have told him things you have never shared with another living soul, and he has done the same with you. Never in your life did you think you would be lucky enough to share a connection with someone the way you have with Joel, let alone after the world had ended.

And now here you stand in the middle of town, watching the man you love cosy up with another woman in plain sight, not even having the decency to try and hide it from you.

You stand there for another few minutes, watching how he leans across the table to talk to her, laughing and caressing his arm in response. It sets fire to your blood, and you can feel it moving like molten lava in your veins.

You're moving before you realise you have made the decision to do so, your feet carrying you furiously forward, up to the short creaking steps and through the entrance to the bar, and then there you are, looming over their table. Your eyes bore holes into his skull. He jumps in his seat and scrambles frantically to hide the notebook that was sitting open on the table between them. You didn't pay it a second glance.

"I didn't realise the bar needed patrolling this evening," you state pointedly at him, ignoring Jenna, who is doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with you, fidgeting in her seat, and clambering to get her things together. Grabbing her coat and scarf from beside her.

"Hey darlin, I thought you and Ellie were heading to the movies." He asks, his voice rough with his attempts to hide his nerves.

"We were on our way there when she saw this cosy scene from the street." You gesture with your hand towards the table, your voice icy as you let your hand drop to your side with an audible slap, which made Jenna flinch.

"I think I'm going to head out…" Jenna murmurs in a small, quiet voice, still avoiding your gaze.

"That is a wise decision" You agreed without taking your eyes of Joel.

She throws Joel a cryptic glance before clambering out of her seat and quickly making her way to the door, shooting Joel an apologetic glance over her shoulder, which only fuels the rage bubbling up in your throat.

"What the fuck?" You growl at him, doing your best to keep your voice under control. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Especially not at your workplace, regardless of whether you were on shift or not.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, genuinely confused by your anger.

"Please tell me you're joking," you seethe.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend." He scoffs, incredulous.

"Seriously Joel? Since when have you had to lie about working to have a drink with a friend?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" he countered, avoiding the question.

"No, I really don't think I am. How could you do this? How could you do this in front of Ellie?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel huffs back at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes begin to prick with anger fuelled tears; the feeling of betrayal rips through you, leaving you exposed to his hard gaze. You can't take any more of this. It feels like the room is closing in around you. That you will suffocate if you don't leave right now. You look at him once more, and the fact that he hasn't denied it or assured you that this is anything other than what you fear it to be ,allows your world to crumble around you.

"Alright," you manage in a broken whisper that comes out as a choked sob.

With that, you turn and bolt for the door, desperately gasping for air but unable to get enough to fill your lungs. You have to brace yourself on the railing of the porch. You can feel his eyes on you as he watches you leave from where he sits frozen at the table, but he makes no move to follow after you.

Willing your legs to move, you push off the railing and slowly make your way to the mess hall, slipping in just as the movie is starting. You can see Ellie is sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and she has saved you a seat beside her.

You make your way to the restroom, taking in your reflection for the first time that evening. Your face is red and splotchy from crying, your eyes puffy, and your lips swollen from your teeth worrying at them. With shaking hands, you reach out to turn the tap on, splashing the icy cold water over your face as you try to make sense of what has just unfolded.

You knew Jenna; she is one of the few people trained in blacksmithing in Jackson, but you had never been especially close with her. She would frequent the bar and chat with you about her work day and vice versa, but that was the extent of your relationship with her, and you have never seen Joel interact with her. It just didn't make sense; why would he throw everything away for a fling with someone who lives in the same commune? Did he really think you wouldn't find out?

You do your best to shake the thoughts from your head, focused on spending the rest of the evening with Ellie, you will do everything in your power to shelter her from this. So with a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and left the restroom, smiling and waving politely at familiar faces as you made your way to your seat, stopping by the makeshift concession stand to grab Ellie some popcorn and a soda on your way.

"Hey, I've got you some snacks, kiddo." You whisper to her, not wanting to interrupt the film.

"Thanks, are you okay?" She murmered with a small smile. Taking the snacks from your outstretched hands.

"Yes, of course everything's fine; there was a mix-up with the patrols, so Joel didn't have to work tonight after all." You reassured her softly.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

You weren't really sure what movie was even playing tonight, so lost in your thoughts that it was just a blurry hum in the background. Ellie had to nudge your shoulder several times to tell you that the movie had was over. Glancing around to find a steady stream of people filing out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm just a bit distracted tonight; work has been so hectic recently, and I have so much to do when I open tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off. Hoping that she will let it go and that she wasn't being as observant tonight as she usually is. The girl misses nothing.

"It's okay, the film was a repeat anyway," she shrugs, not pressing you on the matter, though you know all too well that the questions will come eventually.

"Shall we head home? It sounds like it's getting pretty rough out there," you noted, as another howl of wind wipped around the wooden building.

"Sounds good; I want to have a shower before Joel uses all the hot water again," she ribs in a peel of bright laughter that sends warmth radiating through your now hollow chest.

When you reach the house, you find it in darkness. Joel hasn't made it home yet, and although you are beyond angry, you can't help but worry about him. Of course he can look after himself, but it isn't like him to be out this late if he wasn't on patrol.

The seething voice in the back of your head reminds you that he could be with her. You try to push those thoughts out of your head, but they linger like a dark cloud, casting a grim shadow over what was your perfect - or as perfect as it could be - life.

"I'm going for a shower and then head to bed, you okay?" Ellie asks, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, of course, kiddo, no worries. Do you need anything? You want some tea?" You offer as you head to the stove and place a pot of water on to boil.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though, g'night!" She calls over her shoulder, and then you are alone in the small kitchen.

"Night kiddo," You call quietly to her as you reach for the herbal tea blend that you and Ellie grew in your little garden last summer.

As you wait for the water to boil, your mind starts to race with worry and anxiety. You can't help but think of all the possible scenarios that could be keeping Joel out this late, and the thought of him being with another woman makes you want to break things. You have tried to push those thoughts out of your head so many times this evening, but they keep creeping back.

A few hours later, you are sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, desperately fighting to keep your eyes open, but in the end you give up, gently placing your book on the coffee table and removing the blanket from your lap. You look at the clock on the wall, and it's just after 3am.

You pad into the kitchen and leave your mug in the sink, too tired to wash it now; that's tomorrow's problem. Heading up the creaky stairs to your bedroom and crawling into the cold sheets. It feels wrong going to bed without Joel by your side, but he is god knows where right now, so you lean over, turn the bedside lamp off, and sink into a restless, uneasy sleep.

You wake to the wintery morning sunshine seeping through your bedroom window. Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you stretch your tired bones, sore from your restless few hours of sleep, and swing your legs out of bed. It's only 7 a.m.; you don't usually open the bar until midday, so you have plenty of time to get ready.

You slink down the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie as you do so. Heading into the kitchen mid-yawn, you stop in your tracks as you find Joel standing at the stove, hovering over a pot of boiling water on the closest ring to him.

"Mornin'," he husks without turning; he must have heard you yawning with his good ear to the doorway.

You ignore him, knowing full well that it's petty and childish and ultimately will not resolve anything, but with the way he behaved last night, you feel the cold shoulder is justified.

You both continue with your morning rituals in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn't know where to begin broaching the subject, and the more you stewed over it, the more you felt he should be the one to open the conversation with an explanation, but if you were being totally honest with yourself, you were beginning to worry that you may have jumped to conclusions.

But when you thought about the way they were huddled together, her hand on his arm, and the way she tipped her head back in laughter at each thing he said, the pit in your stomach grew. As did the silence between you.

Things went on like this for days, with the two of you skirting around each other and avoiding eye contact. Only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, like dinner times, and giving each other your work duties for the week.

You could see the effect this was having on Ellie; she has been especially quiet the last few days, so once Joel leaves for work, you sit with her on the couch and try to get her to open up.

"Ellie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"I don't know. You and Joel have been acting weird lately, and it's making me tense." She shrugs, not meeting your gaze.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you can't keep avoiding the issue. "Yeah, we've been having some problems. But it's nothing you need to worry about, kiddo."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she retorts. "You guys haven't spoken in days. It's not like you."

"I know, Ellie. I just don't know how to fix it." You sigh.

"Maybe you could start by talking to him," she suggests.

"It's not that simple, Ellie. There's a lot going on." You shake your head.

"Well, maybe it would help if you talked to me about it," she offers.

"Thanks, Ellie. But it's not something I can really discuss with you. Just know that Joel and I are working through some things and we'll get through it." You smile softly at her, grateful for her kindness.

She nods, not looking convinced but not pressing the issue. You sit in silence for a moment before she stands up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. Need to clear my head."

"Okay, kiddo. Be safe," you say, watching her leave.

You're left alone in the quiet house, the weight of your problems still heavy on your shoulders. You know Ellie is right; you need to talk to Joel. But the thought of confronting him is daunting, and you don't know if you want to hear what he has to say.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he's not happy and hasn't been for a while?

You decide that enough is enough. After work this evening, you are going to speak to him and attempt to clear the air, hear his side of the story, and try to move forward, if not for the sake of your relationship but for Ellie. It's not fair to have this weighing on her shoulders; it's not her fault, and you hate seeing her unhappy, and you know that Joel will feel the same about his if nothing else.

The workday drags on uneventfully; the only thing standing out was that Jenna had come to the bar for the first time since that evening. She gave you a small smile, and you returned it with a polite nod. You were at work after all and took it upon yourself to remain as professional as possible.

Jenna approaches the bar and orders her usual, which you pour for her without issue, though it makes your skin itchy to be this close to her.

"Have you spoken to Joel yet?" she asks quietly. Wiping her fingertips across the bartop.

You stare at her blankly; the audacity of this woman boggles your mind.

"No," you respond curtly.

"Okay, well, when you do, come and find me. We'll have a lot to discuss." She states matter-of-factly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Before you have the chance to give her a piece of your mind, she is walking away from the bar, her long auburn hair swishing to her lower back. What the fuck is her problem?

You try to get through the rest of your day without dwelling on the conversation you had with Jenna, focusing more on the impending conversation you are going to have with Joel this evening. Thinking about what you were going to say to him, how you were going to explain how you felt, and how hurt you have been over the last few days.

You lock up the bar and head towards home for the evening, taking a little more time than you usually would, feet dragging, dreading the fight that would likely ensue once you had spoken to him. You tell yourself you will keep a level head, but you know deep down your temper would not allow that to happen if he gave you some bullshit excuse.

As you approach the small, snow-covered pathway that leads to the back porch of your home, you pause there, unable to bring yourself to go inside. So you take a seat on the second step and watch the flurries of fluffy snow as they make their way through the air to join the pillowy blanket that covers everything in sight.

You sit there for what feels like hours. Jackson was always quiet; it needed to be in order to keep what you have here safe, but as you sit in the darkness, the only light coming from the dim porch light and the light seeping through the thin linen curtains from the living room, it feels eerily silent and still. The sound of the backdoor creaking open made you jump. The heavy footsteps that followed, however, were all too familiar.

"You gonna stay out here all night?" He asked quietly, his voice low and soft.

"No, I was just… well, I don't really know what I was doing." You offer a small laugh, void of any humour.

Joel takes a few steps and groans loudly as he lowers himself to join you where you sit. He is quiet for a few moments until he finally speaks.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the other night and how it must have looked. I'm sorry for not explaining to you then and there what it was; I didn't want to tell you, and I still don't really. But I promise you on my life that it is not what you think it is, Darlin," he says softly, regret heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand Joel; I just want to understand what the fuck has been going on," you pleaded, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"I know, baby, and I'm going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise. I also didn't want to tell you without speaking to Ellie first, but I spoke to her at dinner, and now she understands." He assures you, his hand coming up to brush your cold cheek for the first time in days, and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of his palm.

"Okay, so now everyone knows but me, why were you all cozied up with Jenna? Why did you lie to me about going to work?" You challenged him, removing your face from his touch.

"Hold on," he huffs, shifting his weight to one hip as he fishes for something in his back pocket before continuing. "It will make more sense once you see this, or I hope it will at least," he offers as he hands you a beaten-up, leather-bound note book.

"What is this?" You ask him, you remember seeing it on the table in the bar the other night.

"Would you just open it?" he sighs, rubbing his hand through his patchy whiskers nervously.

You do as he says and open the notebook, and what you find takes you aback. The notebook is filled almost front to back with little sketches of rings and little notes about different metals and gems in his familar handwriting and another that you don't recognize.

"Wh-what is this?" You repeat, stunned. So many thoughts racing through your mind and you are beggining to realise that you have completely misread the situaiton the other night.

"I know I was going to have to tell you about it eventually, you know for your size and all but I was planning to do that after I asked you…but then with the other night I wasn't sure what to say and I was kind of pissed off that you where angry at me, I didn't stop to think that you weren't in on the secret and what it must have looked like to you," Joel's hand came to rest on your knee squeezing reassuringly as he explained the circumstances that lead to what you saw in the bar.

"I have been meeting up with Jenna over the last few weeks, she's the only blacksmith in Jackson that used to make jewelry…specifically engagement rings," he paused allowing his words to sink in before finishing his explination.

"We've been trying to figure out how to make you one, what metals mix well from what I have found on supply runs, whether to hold off if I could find a stone or a gem, or if we could make it without one,"

You stare at him, a mix of astonishment and disbelief washing over you. The pieces start to fall into place, and you realize the truth behind Joel's actions. The anger and hurt that had consumed you begin to melt away, replaced by a flood of emotions, the most promanent being embarrassment.

"You were planning to… ask me?" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air as you struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Yeah, I was. I've been saving up for months, looking for the right opportunity, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Jenna's been helping me because she's skilled at crafting intricate pieces. I wanted to make something special for you, something that would last a lifetime." Joel nods, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of your mistake dawns upon you. You reach for Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice trembling. "I jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story. I never thought…I feel like such a peice of shit, I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, darlin'. I should've communicated better, explained everything to you beforehand. I understand why you were upset." He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"But why did you lie about going to work?" you inquire, still wanting to grasp every detail.

"We thought it would be best if we kept it a secret until it was ready. And I didn't want you to suspect anything. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, and I was afraid if I told you I was hanging out with Jenna, you'd figure it out before I had the chance." He shrugged.

"Joel, I can't believe you're doing this. You've put so much thought and effort into making something special for us. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I have been so awful to you over the last few days," You let out a shaky breath, your heart filled with a strange mix of relief, shame and joy.

A soft smile graces Joel's lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Don't say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Tears stream down your face now, but they're tears of happiness. You lean in and rest your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. The weight of the misunderstanding lifts, leaving behind a newfound sense of trust and appreciation.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch and for overreacting. I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Hey, we all make mistakes, darlin'. It wouldn't be the first time I've got pissed at you for something I misunderstood now is it?." he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I guess no ones perfect," you echo his laughter leaning into him further.

As you sit together on the porch steps, surrounded by the beauty of the snowfall, you realize that the snow isn't the only thing that's melting. The icy barriers that had formed between you and Joel are slowly thawing away, leaving behind a comfortable quiet.

"So, now that the cats out of the bag, will you…?" he asks his deep voice thick with emotion.

"Will I what handsome?" You look up at him teasing, your eyes twinkling.

A playful grin tugs at the corners of Joel's mouth as he meets your gaze. "Will you marry me, my beautiful, stubborn, and occasionally misunderstood partner in crime?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a surge of excitement courses through you. You pretend to ponder his question, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Well, I don't know, Joel. I mean, after all that's happened, can I really trust you with my heart?" you tease, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel feigns a look of hurt, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh, come on now. I've endured snowball fights, kitchen mishaps, you and Ellie ganging up on me and even your questionable taste in movies. If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

Laughter bubbles up from within you, and you lean in closer, pressing your forehead against his. "Joel, you are my love and my rock. Of course, I'll marry you," you say, your voice filled with so much love.

In that peaceful moment, wrapped in the calm of the snowfall and the safety of his strong arms, you realize that there will be silly arguments, misunderstandings and cold shoulders, but you will always find your way back to each other. You let out a sigh of contentment as Joel presses silent kisses against your head, happy to sit here forever wrapped up in him.

Knowing that Joel and Ellie will forever be your guiding lights.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

spoilers: set in season 6

We’ll Meet Again

Before, you were living the dream, and you didnt even know it. Much to your parents disappointment, you fell in love with a redneck, who stole your heart with the kindest, saddest eyes you’d ever known. A pair of lovesick teenagers; most nights you snuck out of your bedroom window to get on the back of his bike, and the two of you would ride away, to nowhere, to everywhere.

Obviously, when you became adults, things were a lot less simple, but they were still a dream. Your sweetheart redneck waiting for you at the end of every shift, leaning against his bike with his arms crossed and a stern expression that melted away the moment he saw you. The two of you took lovesick teenagers to the next level, it wasnt something you grew out of. While still in a pencil skirt and a blazer from your office, the two of you would be climbing trees, running through the grass, your heels hanging from your hand as the rocks and sticks beneath your feet shredded yet another pair of stockings. Wherever you went, whenever you discovered a patch of something new, you carved a heart into a tree with his knife, the heart always had a line that went straight down the middle, to represent how you were two halves of each other. Life, back then, was everything you could have ever wanted.

When the world you knew fell to pieces, you were away on a business trip, in an entirely different state. With all forms of long distance communication made redundant, you had no way of reconnecting with him. That didnt stop either of you from trying, though. He stayed at your house for a month, waiting for you, while you made your way back through the broken world. Less than a day before you arrived home, he had decided to go out and look for you. Somehow, the two of you completely missed each other.

Years have passed since the beginning, and you are still on your own. You prefer it that way. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. All this time spent outside, you have been searching for him, but you have no way of knowing where he is, and it breaks your heart. Just thinking of his name is too much for you to take. Behind you, your journey is drawn out on the trees that you carved into, and at this point you dont know if you’re carving them in tribute to someone you’ve lost, or if you’re trying to guide them back to you.

When you find Alexandria, you decide that maybe being alone isnt ideal anymore. He wouldnt want you to be by yourself out there; you often laugh to yourself at the thought of his reaction to the things you’ve done since he last saw you. The people of Alexandria are naive, that‘s obvious, but you are one person, one against many, and it isnt your place to try and change the way they do things. They let you into their home, and for that you are grateful. So instead of changing them, you put your own skills to good use. When the dead gather at the gates, you are the one to dispose of them, and when it comes to supply runs, you are the one people go to.

While out on your supply runs, you decide to carve trails in every direction, leading back to the gates, in the hopes that maybe, someday, he’ll find one, and he’ll follow them back to you. It’s wishful thinking.

When Aaron brings Rick’s group back to Alexandria, you’re away on a long run, andyou miss him, again. He’s grieved the loss of you, he’s still grieving, he will forever, he thinks. He’s so convinced you’re gone that when Deanna mentions the other survivor who arrived not long ago and refers to your name, Daryl’s only thoughts are that some bitch is going to arrive to torture him with the memory of you. As if being stuck in these walls couldnt be made any worse. As if seeing this neighbourhood filled with people didnt remind him of riding home with you from high school, dropping you off and walking you to your door like the gentleman he was proud to be. As if life without you wasnt painful enough.

He spends as much time outside of the walls as possible, not looking forward to being forced to interact with the ghost of your memory. He heads back to the walls almost every night, so that his friends dont come looking for him, and by then, if this other survivor has arrived he’ll have hopefully avoided them, and he can run back out of the walls the following morning to avoid them further. On one of his walks back, though, he notices something that he didnt before. Something that he hadnt seen in years, but something he’d never forgotten. His shaking hands traced the carved marking in the tree trunk, and then he hears something he never thought he’d heard again.

“Awh, you guys didnt have to throw me a welcome-back party, you’re too kind!”

He turns so slowly, his mind at war with the rest of him as optimism and cynicism battle each other to the death. When his eyes land on you, cynicism evaporates.

You’re jumping on the walkers you’d just greeted, stabbing them through the skull, kicking others to the floor and telling them to wait their turn. A pile of the dead forms around you, and you sigh, your back facing him. He cant move, he has to be dreaming. A walker stumbles right past him, heading for you, and something primal awakens in him. In an instant, he has aimed, fired, and knocked it down. It’s your turn to freeze. The sound of a crossbow is something you’ll always remember, even after all these years. Your heart pounds against your ribs, gripping the string of the very bow that he had made for you and gifted on your 19th birthday. With the same disbelief weighing you down, your body turns just as slowly as his had.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, neither of you can move. For just one precious moment, you both accept the realisation that you were both alive all this time, and against all odds, you’ve found each other again. You’ve found Daryl. And then, the moment changes, and you’re running to each other. You jump into his open arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, his arms locking around your back as he falls to the ground, resulting in you now sitting on his lap. The mixture of laughing and crying that ensues is one of utter madness, the greatest form of bliss, as you hold each other’s faces, your hands roaming all over each other’s clothes bodies for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“I thought’cha were dead!” Daryl chokes out, and you cant stop smiling at him.

“I thought you were too!” You cry.

“Why’d ya keep leavin’ the carvin’s on the tree if ya thought I was gone?” He asks, unable to comprehend that you are really here, in his arms again. His impossible girl.

“Couldnt give up on you, not ever.” You tell him, and then the two of you are sobbing into each other, crushing each other so tightly that any other time it would probably be too painful, but not now.

From the gates, Rick’s group have gathered, and they’re watching on in confusion. Daryl had never had the strength to tell anyone about you, not even Carol. Talking about you would lead to him talking about how he thought you were gone, and if he actually spoke those words aloud, they would be too real.

“I never stopped lovin’ you, ya gotta know that.” Daryl sniffles, resting his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, your face aching from smiling more than you have in years. “I know, I never stopped loving you either, Daryl.”

Hearing you say his name broke him, and he buries his face in your neck. “Shit, (Y/N), ya got me back round your li’l finger already.”

You cant help laughing at that, lifting his head from your neck so that you can kiss his forehead, and then you’re staring at each other again, waiting. There’s some hesitance, some nervousness, it’s been so long since either of you have kissed anyone, what if you arent good at it anymore? But against all that, something else wins, and you’re leaning in, your lips meeting his. Daryl’s arms pull your body flush against his, deepening the kiss, and you both sigh, because it hasnt changed. Despite everything the two of you have been through since you last saw each other, you are still the same people, the same lovesick teenagers, deep down in your own heads, in a place where only you two can go.

From beyond the gates, cheers erupt, and you and Daryl break apart, resting your heads together as you laugh and look to the crowd. Maggie and Glenn have their arms around each other, grinning at the two of you. Rick, Michonne, Abraham and Aaron are applauding and smiling in disbelief. Rosita is rolling her eyes at how cheesy this is, but she’s smiling. Carol’s watching on with a hand over her heart and an emotional smile on her face, and Tara’s giving Daryl two thumbs up. Everyone is so happy, and you can tell from the looks on their faces that they’ve never seen Daryl this happy.

“Friends of yours?” You ask him teasingly, and he shakes his head.

“Naw.” Daryl answers, standing to his feet and lifting you up with him. “Come meet the family.”

[cowprintsillies]

Fic Update

Update for Ranboo’s Terrible No Good Guide to Freedom: The Long Way Round - Chapter 1 - CowPrintLilies, TheStanleyParableEnjoyer - Generation Loss (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]

Haha I’m ignoring that i haven’t updated in three months ITS OK BECAUSE IM WRITING NOW AND I WONT BE LONG!! It’s getting done!! Soon to be posted!! Here’s an excerpt from the chapter in progress!!

---

The walk there is uneventful in a physical sense. Security, thank his lucky stars, hadn’t reared its ugly head yet as it so often did. Charlie wasn’t dumb enough to think it never would- he’d become intimately acquainted with its claws way too many times to think like that- but it wasn’t here yet. 

Emotionally, the walk there may as well have crushed him with a comically large piano and laughed in his face about it. Because something happened and they aren’t talking about it. Ranboo is the most courageous kid Charlie has ever met and probably ever will. Desperation only gets you so far and if that was all that was keeping Ranboo going they would’ve given up loops ago. Ranboo is one brave fucking kid. They had, for all intents and purposes, had to (whether those people came back or not) kill a lot of people to survive. And they had still gotten back up, gotten back to escaping. 

The kid trailing behind Charlie now looked like a few choice words would break them in half. It made something in Charlie’s chest crawl. Something not just happened, something changed. And he is going to fucking kill whoever did it if it’s the last thing he does.

Ranboo trips slightly as the flooring transitions from tile to carpeting.

Charlie doesn’t mention it.

The walk continues like this for the better part of 10 minutes. The odd Employee roamed idly about the floors, and Charlie would lead the way and Ranboo would follow meekly behind- save for whenever they steered Charlie from making a wrong turn. Sue him, he’s new to the whole “keeping his memories thing” and yes he may be a little bit overwhelmed with the whole thing because first of all it makes no logical sense for time to loop around them but then again Showfall Media makes no sense and he’s trying his best to be there for the kid because he gets a horrible familial burning in his collarbone whenever he thinks of what they went through and are still going through-

Ranboo tugs on the back of his shirt before Charlie walks into the side of a cabinet.

-and his internal monologue has become nonsensical rambling. Awesome, real helpful Charlie.

Ranboo is looking at him with the air of a kicked puppy. Or- no, more like the air of someone who just watched someone else shoot a puppy then put it in a meat grinder. Either way Charlie doesn’t like the expression on Ranboo's face. Their eyes don’t belong on someone so young. The poor kid looks like he’s been through the wars. It’s plain trauma. Charlie internally curses Hetch’s name into the dirt, as has slowly become a tradition whenever he thinks particularly hard about the situation. 

Charlie takes a moment to mentally slap himself back into the present moment, however shitty the present moment has proven to be, and takes stock of the surroundings. No immediate or imminent danger, save for himself almost giving himself a new bruise with that cabinet. Charlie then mentally slaps himself again because how had he managed to get so lost in his thoughts to not pay attention to where he was going? He knows first hand that this place is dangerous and he just daydreamed instead of looking out for Ranboo? Some good he’s doing.

First note of order is that they successfully reached the Puzzler’s Wardrobe Set which means that he can finally try and lighten the mood. 

Ranboo had been standing by Charlie, idly looking over the various assortments of clothes, wigs and miscellaneous items in an attempt to completely ignore the whole situation that had lead them here to begin with and had, like he said in his previous inner monologue: settled a growing rock of worry right in Charlie's chest. Whenever they notice Charlie looking at them they physically straighten up to try and look more put together than they clearly were. 

It’s weird. A lot of this situation is weird. Honestly weird is an understatement. Charlie should say something to break the strange silence coating the two of them, and he’s not sure why he can’t. A million words and questions come to mind such as are you ok what happened what did you see how can I make it better, all swirling and twisting together in one mass of fear, worry, anger and care. Everything knots together in his heart and by the time it’s reached his mouth no longer makes any sort of sense. He wants to say a lot of things. 

What's wrong?

Who hurt you?

What happened?

How can I help?

Please let me help you.

It will be ok.

But what came out of his mouth instead is-

“Want to dress up?”

[silverynight]

The love hashira's tsuguko

Aoi knows a few things about Kanroji and one of them is that she's in love with her tsuguko; no one has seen him yet, but she talks a lot about him. His name is Kamado Tanjirou.

At first she thought that was going to be a problem because the serpent hashira is very much in love with Kanroji and everyone knows it, but one day Kocho asks about Tanjirou and it's not only Kanroji but Iguro who blushes to the tip of his ears.

Aoi can't help but look in confusion because she's never seen Iguro blush so much before.

"So... You've met him," the insect hashira asks, growing curious.

"Obanai has been with us a couple of times, he has dinner with us very often," Kanroji says with a very happy grin on her face.

"What do you think about Tanjirou?" Kocho asks suddenly, she has that smile on her face, the same expression she makes whenever she has just realized something interesting.

The blush deepens and Aoi tries not to gape in surprise at him.

"He's not bad..."

That coming from Iguro is almost like a love confession. That's why he hasn't said anything about Kanroji's enamoured attitude towards her tsuguko, he's in love too.

"I want to meet him," the insect hashira says suddenly.

"No," Iguro snaps immediately.

"Maybe later," Kanroji mumbles, although it's pretty much obvious she doesn't want that either.

Aoi rolls her eyes; they certainly seem to know nothing about their fellow hashira because that will probably make Kocho even more curious about the boy.

***

There's a trial, but it doesn't go the way Aoi expects it to go... It seems that not only Kanroji and Iguro did everything they can to hide Tanjirou from everyone else, they also were keeping Nezuko, the boy's sister, hidden from the others.

Now... That wouldn't be a big deal if she wasn't a demon.

Kanroji assures the other Pillars that Nezuko is good, that she hasn't hurt anyone since the love hashira rescued the Kamado siblings, but some of them find it hard to believe it.

Ubuyashiki reveals that Iguro had sent him a letter explaining everything a while ago and that Kanroji and he are more than willing to kill themselves if Nezuko hurts an innocent human.

Even though Ubuyashiki assures the others he believes in Nezuko and Tanjirou, Shinazugawa doesn't agree with him and the others are seriously considering to kill the demon before she hurts someone...

Iguro is about to have a fight with Shinazugawa as the others start arguing, but Ubuyashiki puts a finger over his lips to shut everyone up; it works like a charm.

"I have sent a message to Tanjirou a while ago. He must be here soon."

Just as he finishes the sentence a boy jumps down from the roof; he's carrying a wooden box on his back, although that's definitely not what draws everyone's attention.

Tanjirou kneels in front of Ubuyashiki, making even more obvious that he's wearing an uniform very similar to the love hashira's. However, Tanjirou's thighs are huge, the stockings are too tight and the skirt is constantly sliding up his legs. It's even worse when he's kneeling.

Aoi rolls her eyes when Rengoku faceplants on the ground because he was leaning over to get a better look of the boy.

Tokito seems fascinated by the boy's long hair, Aoi doesn't blame him, Tanjirou's hair is deep red, tied up into a ponytail that makes his face look adorable somehow. He's really beautiful.

That's one of the reasons why no one says a thing when Tanjirou starts telling them what happened the night Nezuko was turned and how Kanroji saved them both.

The love hashira is looking at him with the most besotted grin Aoi has ever seen, although she's not the only one...

"Nezuko and Tanjirou have my support now," the stone hashira says after a while.

"I really appreciate it, Himejima-san!" Tanjirou beams in response. It almost seems like he's shining.

Aoi observes that the boy seems familiar with the Pillars' names which means that Kanroji has talked to him about them before.

Shinazugawa blinks a couple of times but tries to focus.

"I'm still not sure about the demon."

Tanjirou puts the box on the floor carefully, although he still makes sure to cover it with his body. He narrows his eyes at the wind hashira.

"I won't let you come near Nezuko," he almost growls, which surprises Aoi for a moment because he looks so cute and kind it's interesting to see he also has a feral side as well.

All the hashira seem to like that.

Shinazugawa's cheeks start turning slightly pink under Tanjirou's fierce look, although the scowl on his face doesn't vanish.

"I'm... not going to hurt your sister."

Tanjirou relaxes just a bit, although what actually breaks the tension is Uzui's shameless comment.

"You're hot when you're mad, Tanjirou. Now I have started to understand why Mitsuri wanted to keep you all to herself..."

At the end they decide to protect Nezuko, although Aoi is almost sure it's mostly to please the cute boy they just met. Honestly, she never imagined she would ever see the Pillars acting like teenagers in love.

After the meeting, Tomioka approaches the boy and introduces himself; he's blushing so much Aoi worries for a moment... He's purposely avoiding looking at Tanjirou's bare chest or his huge thighs.

"My boy! Do you know I used to train Mitsuri? I can train you too!" Of course the flame hashira is all over the boy, eyes glimmering with adoration already.

Kocho is the one that finally manages to keep the boy's attention by mentioning there are a couple of rooms in the butterfly estate where Nezuko can rest for a while.

***

It gets worse after that. Tanjirou starts training in the butterfly estate, mostly because Ubuyashiki told Kanroji it was better for him to spend time with other demon slayers; she wasn't that happy (turns out the love hashira is actually a little bit possessive after all) but agreed immediately.

Now Aoi and the butterfly girls get to see him quite often, which is not bad at all because the boy is a sunshine and he also tries to help them as much as he can.

The problem is that he's pretty, he trains with that short skirt of his, which turns him into some sort of magnet for... almost anyone actually.

The slayers watch him in awe and blush until they're completely red whenever Tanjirou notices them staring and smiles at them in return.

Sadly, they quickly learn Tanjirou is completely off limits; the Pillars are not subtle at all when it comes to show their affection towards the love hashira's tsuguko. They also gather around him whenever he's training (paying close attention to the way the skirt moves around his hips when he's trying different things with his katana).

Himejima is the lucky one who has had Tanjirou all over his lap a couple of times because whenever he asks to feel Tanjirou's soft features, the boy is more than willing to comply.

Aoi has never had so many Pillars in the estate at the same time; all of them act like idiots in love, constantly smiling at Tanjirou and praising him for his sword skills. Rengoku is usually bringing him food, Tomioka has "corrected" his posture a couple of times even after Kanroji tells him there's no need to touch her Tanjirou.

Iguro hisses whenever Uzui flirts with Tanjirou (or at least tries to because the boy is painfully oblivious). Kocho is the one who patches the boy's wounds whenever he comes back from a mission and Tokito has managed to brush Tanjirou's hair more than once.

Shinazugawa... It seems to Aoi that he's having a hard time trying to make it up to Tanjirou for saying all those things about his sister during the trial.

They're... All of them are like a bunch of teenagers in love and of course Aoi has to deal with that now.

Life is not fair.

***

Patreon

[earthtooz]

hello! i love your works so much everything you write is perfect! i stopped writing more than a year ago but reading your works inspired me to write again 😊 it’s crazy how we are the same age but our level of writing is completely different, yours blew my mind 🤯🤯🤯 (in a good way!!!!!) i was wondering if you could give me some tips to improve my writing as i feel like i’m lacking in many departments (if you’re comfortable in doing so, ofc!) thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

this ask was send march 5th, and i'm happy to report that four months later, for the first time in a while, i think i'm finally at a point in my writing where i'm confident giving out tips that are not generic and stock standard. i do not know if anon is going to ever see this, but i hope you do, and i hope that you're still as inspired to write as you were when you sent this :) a lot can happen in four months!!

i'm just going to get straight into it. you'll find that the further you go, the more... catered the advice might be to you (it's long, and maybe a bit rambly, but i hope it’s useful in some sort of way 🥲)

# ONE - THE MOST BASICS:

the most DEVASTATING thing you can do for your writing is not have a purpose for each scene or snippet you write. give your scenes a point, don't let them be just images that you sit on the document to take up space! are you trying to prove that character x oc's relationship is growing? are you trying to show that it's breaking apart? are you trying to set up the character as someone who's beginning to fall in love and hates it? give everything a purpose. every word must be linked to your intention.

you know what they say about chekhov's gun, if you are going to mention some little thing, give it a purpose later! you mention reader likes sweaters? let character give them a sweater! this works in many-a-ways.

this all comes down to the planning, which i would give tips on, but i'm writing this part too late. i'm also trying to keep this first part brief because this is a very long post.

for english speakers, the second most devastating thing is to not know your grammar LOL (i cannot criticise those who speak another language as their first! kudos to you, keep doing what you're doing.)

# TWO - FIND YOUR STYLE: easier said than done, but it's an essential part of any art. writing takes time, and only time will evolve your skill and therefore, your style. if you do not like what you write off the bat and believe you are 'lacking' in some departments (no such thing, there is room to improve instead of being 'incapable' of doing something), then i always turn to some of my favourite authors, whether they are published or another fanfiction writer, turn to them and study them. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, just try and emulate what you see from their works and put them into your works, with your own sense of individual style.

i have my list of esteemed tumblr writings that i look up to, as well as writers that i adore. ocean vuong will always be one of my favourite writers, i listen to him frequently when i am stumped by my own writibg. he has this sort of creative aura that drips of his own idiosyncrasy that inspires me every time i try to listen to him, him just speaking calms and invigorates me so much.

so yeah, find your writer, and learn from them :)

# THREE - THE 'DEPARTMENTS': the departments that i have included are:

characterisation

dialogue

description and artistic expression (this one is long, bear with me.)

like i said earlier, there are indeed departments are writing that we all have room to improve in. i will talk about the few that i might find specific to fanfic writing because i am nothing like an actual author :,)

characterisation: a fickle little thing T^T the worst thing ever. to characterise properly means you know the character like it's your own, but in fanfiction that's just truly not possible :,) so i can try and give you my own tips on how i deal with characterisation.

listen to the english dub (or your first language) - DON'T CRUCIFY ME. PLEASE. BUT LET ME SPEAK. for my fellow fluent english speakers, listening to a dub in a language we do not understand can only go so far in the way we understand a character. when listening to english, we hear the intricate ways of their tone and personalities work, and what kind of dialogue best flows with them (toji fushiguro is excluded from this. never listen to that man's english dub.). when i was writing for bakugou- he's not the hardest character to understand, but with the help of the english dub, the dialogue that i wrote for him flowed a lot easier than if i had just tried to internalise his jp dub. he's gruff, and rude, and cocky, and his english va captures that in quite an adorable way! ofc you can never just ignore the original, the original is there to provide you the blueprint, but sometimes a little help explaining the blueprint goes a long way !!

characterisation can also be perfected through the subtle changes in dialogue that you see. a big part of character is how they talk, and even just the subtlest of changes can go far. let me start with the example "this is a really bad idea." if i were writing itoshi rin, then i would change the sentence fit to his speech and embody how he'd actually react to a 'bad idea'. he's curt, doesn't say more than necessary, and unashamed to be cold so he'd probably just say "this is stupid." before walking away LMAOO if i were writing someone like gojo, then the sentence also changes too. he doesn't mind talking and adding more to his point, so i would write something like: "you sure? this doesn't seem like the brightest idea." and if i'm really trying to sell a romantic relationship, i'd add a 'sweetheart' there or something.

dialogue: this is a personalised experience, so as is everything in writing. i have been complimented on my flow and dialogue a lot of the time but in truth, i am merely having a conversation with myself in my head. i try to become the character i am writing about and then i just chat with myself :3 it can be that simple. dialogue does not need to be something you over-complicate, i am my own, ethical character.ai.

description and artistic expression: look, i can't say much on this one except that you're all on your own. i am still trying to perfect my own skills in this department because this is perhaps one of my most vexing parts of writing. i truly am just not... as poetic and imaginative as i want my words to be, but i am trying and i am improving.

my biggest tip regarding description and artistry is: if the reader can imagine it, you don't need to write it. you don't need to fill in the gaps with actual scenes, if your characters are walking through the park as a filler for getting from destination A to B, then that park scene does not need to be as descriptive as A or B. a mere 'you took a shortcut through the park' will suffice. or even better, just go straight from A to B.

say my 'A' scene is starting at a cafe, and my 'B' scene is going to the mall, you could just go 'calling for the waitress to get the bill, you then find yourself in the mall within 15 minutes'. spend time on the gaps that require a bridge to cross, not the gaps that you can merely step over.

these kind of things appear in your planning and admittedly, i don't even plan ROFLLL but i have primary scenes that i have sketched out which i sometimes add to. like spider webs, when going from one thread to another, sometimes the journey is not all that important if it does nothing for your plot.

again, i find inspiration in a lot of the writers i look up to. a recurring motif is something i love adding, whether that be dialogue or a recurring item that symbolises something (like the hairband in between love and lies - a nagi fic). techniques like motifs or an extended metaphor add a lot of depth in your writing that you can't find otherwise. you can also omit going too over the board with reader's emotions too, or just the character's. if it's obvious that they are angry, sad, happy, you don't need to go too far in detail about said emotions.

another so crucial thing is to take note of the things you see in real life and apply it in fiction. the most mundane of things you are doing can have beauty in words.

are you at the beach? why don't you take a look around. tell me about the people that sit on towels, minding their own business. tell me about the way the sun sits high in the sky, unforgiving and burning before going into the main plot.

are you sitting on a bench, killing time? tell me about the breeze you feel, or perhaps the heat that overwhelms you. tell me about what you hear- bikes, children laughing, whilst you're waiting for your date to show up- all of these minute things, so long as you don't go overboard, will matter a lot to the imagination of the reader!

# FOUR: TAKE CARE OF AND LOVE WHAT YOU WRITE writing will always be hard :,) not a single draft goes by where i do not find inconsistencies and flaws, but i love them all the same. i love the drafts that i read over once and posted and i also love the drafts that i poured blood, sweat, and tears into. neither of them are more special to me because they were all born from a simple idea.

to look back on what you wrote and going 'i can do this better now' is beautiful, no? i love the end product for what i learnt on the way.

i know me giving this advice is kinda hypocritical because you'll find me going 'i hate this' in the tags, and you can choose to believe me or not, but i adore all of my stories the same. some of them i just hate that i couldn't give them the attention and love that they deserved, which shows through in the end quality. not that you guys seem to care, it's all in my head sometimes lMFAO.

# FIVE - KEEP THE POV CONSISTENT: now we are getting to the tips that i've been learning myself recently. how funny is it that i learnt this whilst reading from a writer that i so admire?

whilst reading a long fic, i noticed that the flow is satisfying because there was no swap of perspectives. the character was in the focus the whole time and the reader was the reactor, the catalyst being the character's actions and internal dialogue. on the other hand, the reader's thoughts and feelings being in the spotlight can also be significant.

i had always known that keeping the pov consistent would influence your writing, but i never knew how much.

which pov you might want to choose is all intuitive. writing is intuitive- every other tip that i have revealed is all intuitive and i'll cover more of this later. more importantly right now, which perspective you want to execute is all on you, and no one else. if you know your character, your storyline, and your skills, you will simply know how the story shall go. it is just as powerful to write it from reader's pov as it is the character's because it comes from your knowledge and authority as the writer!

# SIX - LEAVE THE COMFORT ZONE: this kind of returns to tip four. sometimes the only way to evolve is to do something we are bad at and that advice applies to writing too. writing is a path set by previous writers but it is not one that we have to follow all the time, why take a shortcut when the long way is prettier, and more rewarding? your journey of improvement is dependent on what you realise and give yourself opportunities to improve in.

for example, recently i have been trying to improve the depth of my descriptions and- don't laugh, but the way i've been doing so is as followed:

i input myself into the scenario, i empathise with the characters within the scene and i describe it. maybe it's emotional and the character can't look you in the eye because they don't have the heart to, not when their chest is filled with a smoke that is so unbearable that all they can focus on is not turning to ashes. maybe it's a happy scene and all you can look at is the character. maybe it's confronting, and the only thing you can think about is defending yourself against their clenched fists that will never actually hurt you, but you know damn well can break your walls in one swing. leave the comfort zone, write new au's and new dialogue pieces, write new metaphors and similes and use rhyme, listing, repetition- just try something new every time and let it be meaningful to the story.

# SEVEN - GIVE YOURSELF TIME. like the growth of your muscles or the mobility of your limbs, or the way your hands flow along the canvas or keyboard, writing is a skill that can only be improved with time. fanfic writing is intuitive and completely reliant on your own tastes.

i can sit here, speak for ages about writing, but the only way you can learn is to do. i have people who see what i do and praise me for being one of their favourite writers, and as honoured as i am every time, i am merely born from the six years i have put into this craft, as well as the hours i put into writing and planning what they see. if you could see the behind the scenes, you would go 'what the fuck am i looking at' LMFAOO.

when i write and then i reread and i know what it is missing, but i cannot speak about this like it is easy, like i have not spent the past few years of my life consistently writing for various characters and growing along the way. to be fair, you don't need to take six years to get good at writing, it can be a very smooth process! i don't think i was the brightest cookie at 12 ngl but i took my characters and rewrote them into different scenarios and here i am today, at 18 and (marginally) better.

as long as the urge is there, worship it, take the step and write. then post, if that is a step you want to partake in. simple as that :)

that's all for now! sorry this is so long, now that you've reached the end, i just wanted to say that i have no authority over what you produce and how you do it. these are simply just things i've learned along the way and i hope they can provide you some sort of revelation.

[coolstarorg]

Leaving the jailbreak community

Around this time last year (in March 2022) I had updated my main iPhone to iOS 15.1, hoping to make a jailbreak for it. I fully expected to be gone from the scene after iOS 15.1, but knew full well that with all the mitigations of iOS 15.0 - 15.1 alone, it may already have been out of my means to make a jailbreak, so there was a risk.

By that time, I had already cut down the tweaks I used to just 2 -- iPad dock for iPhone, and enabling battery percentage for notched iPhones.

Fast forward to June, and iOS 16 had natively introduced battery percentage for iPhones that have the notch -- cutting down the number of tweaks I’d want (compared to stock) from 2 to 1. But no matter, I was still on iOS 15.1, and still hoping to make a jailbreak, since I had a working terminal at that point.

However, the months progressed -- June became July, and iOS 16 betas were coming. Thanks to a donation from someone, I got an M1 Macbook Air to accelerate jailbreak development, and had gotten libhooker with tweaks running a couple weeks later, including on A12 and A13. The jailbreak at this point was in an extremely buggy, albeit functional state and hope was up.

Then the jailbreak community happened -- without a PAC / PPL bypass at the time, libhooker would be forced to sign code pages -- which was only really doable with the libhooker API (unless a ton of effort was spent on potential workarounds). But tweak developers largely refused to consider using the libhooker API for batching hooks, and I was quickly getting frustrated. And a lot of others from the community weren’t helping either -- I had gotten harassed by many jailbreak users on twitter and reddit over this, especially since it had recently come to light that Cheyote was broken on A15. And of course, with it being August 2022, it was unlikely any donations at this point would even get an A15 device on early iOS 15.

At the same time, I had other interests popping up with porting Windows to various chromebooks -- my port to AMD Ryzen was going well enough to be a daily driver, and I had just gotten audio working on the Pixel 2 chromebook (which I previously abandoned in 2017 but then picked up in 2022 with my new experience).

So I snapped -- I realized how much better the community is on the chromebook side and that I simply didn’t need to put up with the jailbreak community. And I put Cheyote on the backburner to focus on developing Windows drivers for chromebooks.

Then August became September, November, December. Progress was being made on the chromebook scene, but every time I considered returning to doing iOS jailbreaking, I shuddered from remembering the harassment.

In December 2022, I returned the money donated towards the macbook to the person who donated it. Since I realized Cheyote was well beyond schedule, even if it ever came to happen. Meanwhile in the chromebook scene, I was getting Intel 12th gen audio working.

Then the months passed, and in March 2023 I realized it had been a full year. And I was still on iOS 15.1 for seemingly no reason other than to tease myself and miss out on the battery percentage and widgets -- so I updated my main iPhone to iOS 16.3.1 (and now iOS 16.4), knowing that there was no turning back and that I would no longer be jailbroken on my main device for a long time, if ever.

That brings us to today. Even though I’ve been in denial about it for several months now, it clearly has made me feel a lot better to stay away from the jailbreak community, and I have found new interests that make me happier. So it’s time to say farewell. It’s been a good run overall since I started developing tweaks for iOS 5 (in 2012) and jailbreaks since iOS 11 (in 2017) -- a 10 year run isn’t too bad after all. 

===========================================================

For those who are still waiting on Cheyote, unfortunately I wouldn’t hold my breath anymore. I’ve clearly moved on months ago, even though it’s taken me until now to fully realize it. I appreciate those who have supported me in the past and thank you for your support on my tweaks, Electra, Chimera, Odyssey and Taurine. If you’re still running one of the jailbreaks I’ve made -- you’re a real one. libhooker and my repos will still be up and running for those on iOS 11 to iOS 14, and Sileo has been maintained by Amy for over a year now. I expect Odyssey and Taurine won’t need any more updates considering they’ve been running stable for a long time, and libhooker 1.6.9 will continue to be hosted on my repo since it is the last version to be fully validated up to iOS 14.8.1 (on checkm8) and up to iOS 14.3 (on Chimera -> Taurine).

If you were interested in what I’m up to these days, feel free to grab almost any Intel chromebook (or one of the 3 supported Ryzen 3000 chromebooks) from the last decade and put Windows on it! (Except the original Pixel 1 [no trackpad / touch screen] or Samsung Chromebook 3 -- that one is garbage, sorry if you have it)

[peteyprecious616]

Glory Days

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: Steve was an athlete...a mother, fought a couple Demogorgens and worked a lot at family video. Maybe keeping up his "jock" persona and keeping in shape got a little lost along the way.

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: First Steve Harrington fic y'all! I love him so much and I thought why not write for him. Also as someone who works out, and a former high school athlete, I thought it would be funny to build upon Steve still bragging about his time as an athlete. Which he did in the show obviously lol.

Warnings: A few curse words and mentions of death but this isn't a sad fic. Very much a fun fluffy fic which im proud of. Both of you are out of high school.

His shirt was practically soaked, his hands kept up and gripped just above the dip of his hips as his chest was gasping for air. “You doubt me? You know I was captain of the swimming and basketball teams in high school, right?” 

It was just a small jog, a few miles from your house to his. You could practically say you were neighbors, if it weren’t for the long, dragging Indiana roads. The fields of corn made your perception almost dizzying as you drove past it each day after work, dropping Steve off. 

“Why did I agree to this again?” you saw him almost hunched over, his knees covered with his sweaty hands. A close mirrored look to how he was a few hours ago, putting the new arriving movies away, struggling to stock them on the bottom shelf. 

—

“God, why are these shelves so low?” Steve grumbled and whined, as he crouched in front of the ring-up counter, his back facing the loud bell-ringing door. He started cleaning up early since he knew Keith, the manager, wouldn’t do it. 

“Aww bad knees already, old man? You’ve only been down there a few minutes.” you leaned over the countertop, his gross overworn vest dragging against the ground, as you saw his hands grasping one of the shelves, keeping his body from falling over, landing on his ass. It was a funny sight to see after a long day.

“You know what, Y/N, why don’t you come down here and help?” His hair practically covered his eyes, his frown still showing as he looked up at you with annoyance. 

“You’re funny, Harrington. All I hear from up here is complaining. Plus you were the one who volunteered.” You smirked at him, knowing even though he hates doing the small grunt work, he always does it out of the kindness of his heart. He's always been a hard worker, and he appreciates how much you do for him. It's the least he could do. 

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you go close up so we can get outta here? I'm exhausted.” Steve huffed as he finished packing the last couple of movies into the corner spot on the shelf. He heard your shoes shuffle around, the shared keys jingling as you started locking doors and turning the open sign backward.

“You can’t be too tired. You said you’d work out with me after this, correct?” You prodded from behind him, his mind occupied with breaking down the cardboard boxes, being thrown out before he froze and met your gaze. Your smirk broke through his frowning face, forcing his glare to add an eye roll to the mix. 

“I hate you and your stupidly good memory.” He stood up abruptly, grabbed the keys from your hand, pushing the storefront door open. He dramatically held the cardboard under his arm as his other reached out in front of him, gesturing you towards the opening. You chuckled. He loved the dramatics. 

“We just talked about it not even an hour ago,” you questioned, as he locked up the video store. Running to the dumpster he yelled from down the sidewalk, 

“I was hoping you’d forget.” 

“Sorry Stevie.” You giggled. You leaned on the top of the car, your hands held open as he jogged over, flinging the keys into your hand perfectly.

“Plus you used to be athletic, right?” You asked. And then he just sat there in the passenger seat and glared. A full-blown scowl played on his eyebrows. But his lips sat in a small smirk. 

“Used to be? You doubt me?” Gawking energetically at your question. You were friends with him for years. You went to all his swim meets. But you just laughed as you pulled out of the parking lot with ease. 

“Never. Let's go Stud.” 

—

He thought this would be easier. He ran from horrifying monsters and Demogorgons with a heavy backpack and a bat and he got around just fine. Maybe it was the adrenaline of taking care of the kids, and maybe the thought of death tickled his brain that made his muscles forget that he hadn’t worked out in about a year. 

But this was probably going to be the thing that kills him. And the fact that you're smiling as you jog beside him, that just took him to the grave. 

You were about a mile from his house. A deadly mistake he made when he walked out the door from his house in a light gray Hawkins gym shirt. A terrible mistake. As it was the peak of summer, the sun blazing and the fields now holding enough crops that were tall enough to somewhat block the wind, it was torture. Sweat on every inch of his shirt, now a sickening dark gray, he groaned beside you. 

“Just take it off.” You mentioned that his cloudy gaze met under his fluffy hair that he refused to pull up, even though you offered him one of your scrunchies. But you knew he was pleading to take his shirt off. But he was too much of a gentleman and too proud to show that he was getting hot.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.” He panted, hoping you wouldn’t notice the dry words that came from his mouth. He was the picture of health not too long ago, and now he could barely run a few yards without his muscles pulling him down to the ground, crawling towards the nearest spot of shade. 

“It wouldn’t hurt” you winked at him, your legs striding farther than his as you start to pull away from him. 

God, he hated running. But he was too stubborn to lose. His high school glory days still swimming in his bones, clawing their way into the sunlight as he pushed his legs further into the pavement, pounding and grinding his way to the end. Just two miles and it will all be over. 

“I'm so proud of you, Steve. We made it halfway.” You cheered as you stopped at the stop sign, giving yourself and Steve a few minutes of rest. It felt refreshing being able to get outside after being stuffed in the video store for hours every day. It was grueling but when you were with Steve, he made it a lot more memorable. And this was something you were going to remember for years. 

“Don’t remind me.” He said as he finally accepted defeat, his back glued to the grass that lay by the narrow country roads. His chest heaving up and down, as he gazed at you. The sun hovered over your skin, glistening as it shimmered just like your smile. He hated running. He hated running from or for anything anymore as he accepted adulthood, but when you’d ask him to do something, he’d do just about anything for you. 

“You know I ran from and defeated Demogorgons.” He mumbled from the shade. You looked at him with glee. Somewhat confused as to why he referenced D&D as he told you numerous times, “I let the kids play that nerdy game. It’s not for me”. 

“Oh really? How was that?” you asked, as you walked over to lend him a hand. His sweaty hand slipped into yours as he pulled himself up, heaving as he pulled you into a hug, his dark grey shirt pressing up against your skin making you cringe. He laughed as you tried to push him away. 

“Surprisingly easier than this shit. But I'm alive.” His hands reached around your lower back, interlacing his fingers as best he could without them slipping. He smiled down at you. 

“Well, I'm glad you are, Stevie.” You grinned as you looked up at him. You pulled his hair from his face, a little greasy as your fingers ran through it. Pulling a hair tie from your wrist, you try to make it stay up as best you can. He pretended to hate it, but he loved when you took care of him. Driving him to work in the mornings, making him lunch saying “I made too much” and suggesting these “workouts” or spending time with him whenever because you knew his house was just too ghostly for him to stay in it for too long. 

He loved long, hot summer days with you. 

“But you won’t be glad when I smoke your ass back home. Race you.” Your pointer finger lingered on the top of his nose as you poked it lightly, as you giggled. You turned around, gaining a lead already as you heard him yell, “you little shit, wait a minute.” 

His high school glory days were in the past. But spending time with you, he’d treasure forever.

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 18

Warnings: angst, allusions to sex

Summary: The Grove is good for both supplies and confessions.

Notes: Guess who just tested positive for covid? This fuckin' guy. But I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm pretty happy with it. <3

Read on Ao3 here!

Previous Chapter | First chapter

////////////////////////////////

“We don’t know what we’re going to face,” Wyll says, frowning and crossing his arms. “Going into this cursed land unprepared is tantamount to suicide.” 

“I agree,” Halsin says, looking around at the group. “Listen, I am as eager to get to Moonrise as any of you, though I do not carry a tadpole. But nothing there will sustain us. You have all done miraculous work, but even you cannot subsist on nothing.” 

“Well, I’d be fine, anyway,” Astarion says with a faint smirk. “Feeding off your fresh corpses isn’t exactly my meal of choice, but you’ll do in a pinch.” 

“Lovely,” Shadowheart drawls. 

“G’lyck, arguing about whether to go back or going back at all, we waste time either way!” Lae’zel snaps.

“Yeah, can’t we just go forward? I’m sure the arseholes at Moonrise have stores of stuff we could just take,” Karlach says. 

“We still have to make it to Moonrise, my fiery friend,” Gale muses. “And who knows how long that will take. Better safe than starving.” 

“Sable? What do you think?” 

The young druid looks up, having been obviously lost in thought. Blushing faintly at getting caught with her mind elsewhere. “Sorry, what were we talking about?” 

Lae’zel opens her mouth, her brow pinched, but Wyll has the tact to jump in first. “We were discussing returning to the Grove for a day to restock and rest before entering the shadow-cursed lands.” 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea,” Sable says, nodding. 

“Well! That seems to settle it then,” Gale says cheerily. “In a diplomatic vote, we have two neutral parties, Astarion and Shadowheart. Two votes for charging ahead with Lae’zel and Karlach. And Wyll, Halsin, Sable, and myself voting for stocking up. So back to the Grove we go!” 

Lae’zel clicks her tongue, and Karlach just shrugs, not too put out. 

They pack up camp and make for the permanent portal Gale had made some nights ago in the myconid colony. The wizard activates the runes, his eyes glowing as he connects this portal to the one just outside the Grove, and in a flash they’re topside. 

“GODS DAMMIT, THAT’S BRIGHT!” Karlach cries out, shielding her eyes from the sun. The rest of the party is in similar condition, squinting and holding their arms in front of their faces. 

Gale, his eyes closed, hums in thought. “Note to self! We must let our eyes adjust after days in the Underdark.” 

“Fat lot of good that does us now!” Astarion snaps, his crimson eyes watering. 

They all shuffle their way into the Grove, and they take a moment after the gates shut to let their eyes adjust in the shade under the bridge. Once they could all see without tearing up, they head in. Halsin goes to see how things are while the rest hit up the rather harried merchant. 

Except Sable. Sable quickly makes her way past the merchant and down deeper into the Grove. She desperately wants some time alone, to try and work through her tangle of thoughts. 

The cave with the hot spring is blessedly empty, and beautifully warm. She strips down and takes the opportunity for a more thorough wash than she’d had last night (the myconids don’t view nudity like the other races, of course, but it was still weird to bathe in full view of shambling mushroom men), before slipping into the hot water with a groan of relief. 

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before releasing the lock on the thoughts that have been trying to scream in her mind since the night before.

Astarion cares about her. Astarion cares about her. The thought is enough to make a blush rise to her cheeks, and a soft, joyful smile tug her lips. Someone like Astarion cares about her, the always overlooked kitten…She doesn’t know what she could have done to get his attention in that particular way, but she’s not complaining. 

Although…it’s more than obvious that he doesn’t know how to…process that. Not that she really knew how much better, but…

…well, she wasn’t the one running away from him. 

Nevermind the fact that she came down here to be alone. That meant nothing.

“Ah, I thought I’d find you here.” 

Sable yelps in alarm at the sudden voice, dunking everything from her lips down under the water. She peeks out over the stone shelf of the cave floor, to find Astarion standing there, smiling sheepishly. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you this time.” 

She swallows hard, watching him as he stands there, his hands fluttering nervously around his hips. “It’s…okay.” 

It’s quiet a moment. He keeps meeting her eyes and then looking away. “If you don’t want company right now, I can go. I only…” He sighs at himself, tries to pull a little of his normal confidence back around him, the cloak of it he normally wears having unraveled since last night. “Shadowheart wouldn’t stop needling me to come and talk to you. Really, she needs to mind her own business.” 

“Oh…yeah…” is her soft, disappointed reply. She’d hoped that he’d come to talk to her on his own…but those hopes sink, and she turns in the water, facing away from him once more so he doesn’t have to see the tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t…have to stay if you don’t want to.” 

Astarion closes his eyes and curses himself for an idiot, his hands balling into fists. “I…want to,” he says carefully. He slowly walks in and lowers himself to sit at the edge of the water. “Honestly, I…regardless of what Shadowheart had said, I wanted to talk to you. I just…”

His words trail off. She hears him take an unneeded inhale, and then his tadpole gently nudges hers, asking to be let in. She doesn’t respond for a moment, before slowly accepting the connection. Emotions pour into her mind, enough that she gasps with it. Longing, fondness that’s deepening into something he doesn’t want to put a name to, a hint of desire that’s always been tainted with the disgust he’s trying to grow past…

…but above all there’s fear. Thick, cloying, this is Good she is Good but I don’t get to have Good she’ll get ripped away and it’ll be my fault because I’m Not Good I’m nothing but a slave and slaves can’t have 

She doesn’t even realize she’s moving until her arms lock around his neck. His eyes widen as she surges out of the water and into his lap, his hands hovering over her naked flesh, unsure what to do with them. Tears are pouring down her face and wetting his skin as she buries herself into his neck. “You have me, you have me, you’re not a slave and I’m not going anywhere I promise,” she whispers, her throat thick as his emotions fill her mind. 

He finds his hands pressing to her bare back, then his arms sliding around her, and before he knows it he’s holding onto her as if his life depends on it. “I’m sorry, kitten, I’m so sorry that I-” 

“Don’t, Astarion, don’t apologize for that,” she says vehemently. 

“But I…you deserve someone who will-” 

“I don’t care what I deserve!” She pulls back, looking into his eyes, tearful hazel meeting surprised crimson. “What I deserve doesn’t matter, because I want you!” She cups her hands around his cheeks. “What about what you deserve? You deserve to be free, to make your own choices about what you want, to be able to care about people and things without having them taken from you! You deserve to live free from torture, from being used!”

“What if I ruin you?” he whispers, and if there’s suddenly water on his face he can blame it on her wet hair. 

She smiles weakly. “Then we’ll be ruined together. But you won’t. You know I’m stubborn enough to resist that.” 

He laughs helplessly. “You are at that.” He stares at her, searching her eyes, her face. “You know…the first few days of our little adventure, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, make you want to defend me from my own monsters. I thought it was going to be easy, considering the way you blushed if I so much as glanced at you. But then…you cared about me. For more than what I could do for you in bed. And that’s where my nice, simple plan…fell apart.” 

He gently cups her cheeks, his touch reverent, a supplicant at prayer. “You’re incredible,” he breathes in awe. “I feel…things for you that I’ve never felt before. I want this to be real. I want us to be real.” 

“I love you,” she whispers, and her eyes widen that she’d just blurted it out. 

It feels like a bolt of lightning hits his spine. Warmth unfurls from inside his chest, feeling exactly like that first gentle touch of sunlight on his skin after two hundred years. She loves me…

He opens his mouth, but she gently presses her fingertips to his lips. “You don’t have to say it back,” she says quickly. “I don’t want you to say anything you don’t want. If you’re not ready yet, I completely understand, and I can wait until you are. This whole thing goes at your pace, okay?” 

He softens, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. “I’ll do my best not to keep you waiting long, kitten,” he promises. His hand cups over the back of her head as he tilts his own, and he kisses her like she’s the air he used to breathe. 

He might not be able to say the words quite yet, not out loud where they’re given form and he can’t take them back. But his hands are more than fluent enough to write it on her skin. I love you sings with every caress, I’m yours is gripped into her hips and shoulders, I would do anything for you sinks deep into her body. 

He doesn’t say it yet. But then, he doesn’t need to. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Later, as Astarion carries her sleeping form back to their camp, underneath the large tree that overlooks the Grove’s center, Shadowheart catches his eye. She raises a smug brow. 

“Not a word,” he huffs. 

“You’re welcome,” she replies.

[dulcewrites]

I had this headcanon about how Aemond still frequently suffers from chronic headaches because of his eye but refused to take milk of the poppy because it made him feel all light headed and, well just… drunk in general, so he didn’t want to put himself into such a vulnerable position but then when he and Myrah marry she eventually convinces him to take it from time to time when the pain got really bad and when he does they always stay in their chambers, Aemond lying in bed, feeling high out of his mind, and Myrah sits on his torso, doing silly things like cleaning his Aura and attempting ASMR and so on. Aemond would probably act embarrassed afterwards because he’s wayyy to serious for all that stuff but secretly he enjoys it a lot

Oh I love this. Especially the cleaning his aura and attempting asmr part. They are very astrology gf and stock market bf coded. One of the reasons why he loves her so much is how carefree and weird and warm she is. It makes him feel young… which he is! He has been to be uptight for so long out of necessity and as a barrier. It is easy for everyone to forget he’s basically a baby. He’s only in his early 20s (in this universe at least)

AND this gave me an idea that myrah would be so interested in magic especially the Hightowers connection to alchemy and necromancy. She probably tries her hand at stuff (and in theory fails 💀)

now I have to write this

Bewitched by You

The aches always started the same. A tingle at the top of his head that traveled all the way down and pricked the tip of his toes. Despite the years of experiencing them, Aemond was still a shock when the pain in his head traveled through his body. A dull pain settling in his bones.

They sneak up on him at times, and during each one that happens, Myrah would plead the same thing.

“Please, just a little bit of it. I know it will make you feel better.”

He had taken milk of the poppy before. When he was younger and the scar still healed, he was all but take it by the maesters. It did help with the pain, but he hated the fuzzy feeling that came with it. How he strangely was unaware yet hyperaware of everything going on around him. The next day, his mother would smile sweetly saying he was quite cute while on it.

Her only other experience with dealing with someone on milk of the poppy was a surly, useless old man with rotting flesh. Of course, he would be cute compared to that.

But Myrah would beg. Her eyes would get wide and sad. A similar look Alicent would give him when he was in pain. If there was any worse pain than the headaches, it was seeing them upset.

So, when his head begins to pound after dinner, it takes little convincing on her part for him to finally take some. Myrah makes him change into something more comfortable, and brushes his hair. By the time milk of the poppy is brought to their chambers, the moon was rising in the sky, and the fires within the castle ablaze and flickering.

He watches Myrah, who floats around the room like a fairy. Lighting the oil lamps, dark curls dancing behind her and a girlish frolic in her step. It makes him wonder what their children will look like. More Targaryen or more like her family? He tries to imagine a younger version of himself with her hair, or gods willing, her eyes.

Once done tending to the lamps, she comes to stand near the bed, the strap of her night gown falling on her shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“You’re pretty,” is the first thing that came to his mind. Myrah laughs and it chimes like bells in his head.

“Feeling better, I assume,” she rearranges the pillows. “Why don’t you lie down.”

She tucks him in as if he is a child. Humming a hymn before leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. She leans up with a sudden gasp.

“You know what we should do,” she beams.

Aemond just blinks, eye trained on her. A part of him wants bury his face in her chest to get whiff of lavender he got meer seconds ago. But he does not think that is what she meant.

“Daeron sent me a special book from Oldtown,” she nods. “And I have learned to properly get rid of negative spirits in a room, and the negative aura that follows someone.”

Aemond just continues to stare, before a giggle bubbles up his throat. The pain is his head now replaced with a floaty lightness. The earnest nature of his wife only makes him like he’s on a cloud. Myrah crosses her arms, with a frown.

“I am serious, Aemond.”

She turns towards the desk in the room, picking up large brown book. Comically big in her small arms. She flips the pages furiously, before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes dramatically. Aemond watches as she begins to chant something he cannot recognize. Words he has never heard before. He watches and watches, a smile on his face. It goes on for minutes.

When she is done, she turns to him with a proud look on her face. “That was really poweful. Did you feel that?”

He is sure he is married to one of the strangest women in Westeros, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes, my love, I felt it.”

[secretgamergirl]

Ever think about how weird it is that we've sort of collectively agreed games devalue over time?

This is one of those subjects where I just know people are going to start reading this and think I have some sort of weird vested interest in the price of some particular game or the profits of some publisher or whatever, so let me just get right out front here and say no, this really is me just waxing philosophic in a vacuum.

You like movies? You like actually owning copies of movies? Right now, taking a look around, it seems like if you want to buy a movie on bluray, that costs you about $25. Maybe more like $30 if it's some big fancy release with a lot of pack-in material, like the Criterion Collection stuff, but basically you're looking at $25. You like music, want to buy a new album? On CD, that's going to cost you $15. Or at the point we're currently at where there's this odd revival of vinyl records, you're looking at maybe double that? Little harder for me to work out the basic going rate since I think we're at a point where people are doing limited printings and stuff isn't going to stay at the sticker price long, but there's SOME pretty consistent price point everyone goes with, I'm pretty sure. Books? $20 hardcover, maybe half that for a paperback. You want to buy a video game that just came out though? Well, if it's new-new, and this is the first time it's ever been made available, that'll be about $60. If it's a rerelease though? You damn well better not ask for more than $5 for that or people are going to be furious. And that's super weird!

I've tried discussing with people just how weird this is, and it doesn't really seem to properly register with anyone. One big hangup is that (and this may be because the target audience for games skews really young and the industry has been really pushing to obliterate the concept of owning a game for like a decade or two) is that the people I'm talking to are completely conflating the concept of the work and the publication of a work. Like, yeah, if a store orders a stock of 50 copies of something, and it doesn't end up selling all that well, then yes they are eventually going to mark down the ones that don't sell or toss them into a bargain bin or whatever. That's true for everything, but that is also not at all what we are talking about here. This is specifically about the actual suggested retail price on the package when it leaves the manufacturer. When I'm saying "a movie on bluray costs $25" that's true for a movie that is only just being released on home video for the first time after premiering in theaters two months ago, but that is also true for a movie from like the 1980s that someone's only just now getting around to putting out on the format, or they just got the rights to distribute in a given country (and yeah yeah, super America-centric numbers I'm using here, I know), or it came out like 4 years ago but there's a sequel out soon so we want to make it available again. Doesn't matter how old it is. We're selling it now, we're selling it for $25. It does not work this way for video games. If I port some game from the mid-'80s to whatever hardware is current, and I try to charge the standard price of a game for it, people would be outraged. I can charge $5 or I can bundle it together with a dozen other games and MAYBE get away with that. But I better be throwing in some extras, or make it like 30 games or whatever.

The next thing I hear people say is "well no, see, because with games, budgets for graphics keep going way way up! And you know, hey, that's why the average price of a game keeps going up! Hell games on the PS5 are like, $70!" and... OK so nothing about this argument has any basis in reality, at all. Games for whatever weird reason have always been just kind of immune to inflation. Like, in the 80s a videogame would typically cost about $50, and $50 in 1980 is about $200 adjusted for inflation. That number basically has not budged. Didn't come down when actual production costs dropped to practically nothing, didn't shoot up when budgets kinda ballooned either. You do sometimes see people make "budget games" for maybe half the typical price, but that's kind of just a marketing decision when you're going to release something you know critics are immediately going to pounce on for "looking cheap" or being shallow or whatever. By and large, whether a game is churned out really quickly on the cheap or has some bloated budget in the hundreds of millions, it's getting sold for that same $60. Movies work the same way. The movie that cost $400,000,000 to shoot and the movie that cost $35,000 to shoot both cost you $25 to pick up a copy of at a store... and they also cost a bit under half of a what a game typically costs despite the fact that that they cost roughly twice as much to make (the math is kinda fuzzy, but that seems roughly true for the record-setters and the median, at least for big budget major studio stuff). Capitalism is weird like that, basically no connection between cost and price.

Those are honestly the two main points I see people toss out, at least out loud and in public. The next logical thing to assume though is that there have been profound qualitative gains in the field of video games across the board over the years. That they just keep getting better and better and better. And like, hell no to that. I will grant you that early on in the history of the medium, like, late 1970s to mid-80s, where we went from kinda basic arcade games where you've got maybe 2 minutes worth of game play and then you loop it at a higher speed, then this flurry of new technology and priorities and emerging concepts, and if you want to make a lesser value case against the former there, there's a case you could maybe argue. But you can't look me in the eye and sincerely tell me you'd rather play the worst game released this year than the best game from 30 years ago... actually holy crap there's a bunch of absolute gems turning 30 this year, look at this random wad of search results you know I didn't cherry pick because Earthworm Jim's in here:

Point is, yeah, video games are relatively young as an art form but not so much so that we don't have some immaculate classics older than half the people reading this. And again, hey, movies that predate any modern understanding of direction or editing, shot on cameras too old to record sound or color, and where all existing copies are pretty heavily degraded still get reissued at the same sticker price as anything else. Classic albums that were terribly mastered still sell for the same as stuff recorded on bleeding edge gear.

Oh and just to cover all my bases on this, I was tempted to bring up paintings and how with those the oldest works, especially anything where the artist is no longer with us, shoot way up in value, but that's not really fair to bring up since there we're talking about unique original one-off works, not mass-media. There was never a time when we could all go to the mall and pick up van Gogh's The Starry Night. Unless you just want a nice reproduction print. In which case that'll be like $20 (which when you think about it is an outrageous markup for a single frame of video).

Finally though, we have that argument I alluded to that I'm pretty sure IS a lot of people's logic on this which they probably aren't saying out loud, or maybe even consciously thinking to themselves- The older a game is, the easier it is to emulate. If I'm really jonesing to play the original Castlevania right this minute, it's gonna take me like 10 seconds to type a search query, grab a zip file that's all of 65k, unpack it, maybe spend another 10 or 20 seconds double checking what emulator people recommend these days, and I'm good. Maybe even less, I'm sure there's some site I could find quicker than that just emulating it with HTML4 or something right in my browser. But if I want to play like, Wild ARMs 3, I'm grabbing a bigger file, I don't know if there's any good PC emulation of the PS2 these days, I might need to get into the MiSTer scene, or work out how to make my actual PS2 read a burned DVD (in this weird hypothetical scenario where I don't have the actual game on a shelf in my eye-line and I don't have to dust off a computer old enough to still have a DVD-burner standard issue) anyway). And if I want to play, uh... what's current and doesn't have a PC release? And isn't on the Switch which has weirdly good emulation for a current system. That new Ratchet & Clank game? I assume I'd need to do some serious research, have a much fancier computer, seems like a huge game.

But you know, if even on a subconscious level, that means you inherently consider those earlier games to be less valuable (and hell, now that I think about it, I think I actually HAVE seen people openly make the argument that cartridge-based games have literally no intrinsic value because it's so easy to just emulate them), then... you're kind of a total piece of garbage and invalidating any sort of morally defensible stance you might have on piracy and emulation? Like you want to talk to me about preservation or ease of access or outright refusing to financially support whatever company would profit off a particular purchase, those are all pretty defensible positions, but you try and tell me art only has value when there is no easy way for you to personally enjoy it that doesn't involve cutting a check to someone, I think I might actually hate you and everything you represent? Or at the very least I'd like for you to really take a moment to reflect on your principles and reevaluate some things.

And again, that final little thought on this subject in particular strikes me as something people can take in a particularly inflammatory way, so let me just again reassure you I have no issue with anyone's habits regarding piracy or emulation or whatever. I'm coming at this whole subject purely as a sort of philosophical question/exploration of the commodification of art and artists/anticapitalist sort of thing.

And yeah, to just articulate that last point a bit more, while I totally think it's the weirdest thing that the public consensus is that games inherently plummet in value over time, I feel like we got here thanks to a series of very conscious decisions from scumbags in boardrooms. People want you to give them all your money and ideally avoid giving you anything in return. Their whole deal works best when they can convince you that whatever it is they have to sell you right this minute is the most valuable thing in the world and you need to have it right now, and whatever they sold you yesterday is actually total garbage with no value and you know you should really just toss it in a dumpster and make sure you have the room for today's new thing.

Hell, this is getting a bit out of scope, but marketing people are actually really working hard these days to build up an association between how much space a game takes up on your hard drive being a direct reflection of the game's value, and people are shipping games with intentional bloat like ultra-high-resolution assets and needlessly uncompressed files, because if you can only fit like 3 games on your drive, hey, buying this new game means tossing a ton of stuff out. Less stuff for you to play and be content with, less options for what game you're just going to log into every day and have people sell you DLC, and by the time they have a new game to sell, you're going to have to throw this one out to make room for that. No deep libraries, just the current thing.

So, yeah, on the one hand we have companies asking you to buy the same games now you already bought a while ago, and screw them for that, but they're also trying to convince you that nothing you own has value or deserves preserving to always keep you hungering for something new, and WOW screw that so much. Art has value, it retains that value, it's good to build up libraries and share them and keep stuff in circulation for new audiences to discover and people to revisit and re-examine. So quit letting anyone try to convince you old games (or old art of any other kind) has no value. And if you can be bothered, hey, do your best to support artists as much as you can and creeps trying to commodify art as disposable product as little as you can.

[seriously-mike]

Elephant on the Road

or, How I Had To Re-Learn How To Drive After Two Decades

As you know, my father died over a year ago, leaving not only his apartment with a fully-stocked fridge, but also his car - a 2000 Nissan Patrol, at that point disassembled and split between a mechanic and a body shop, with the extensive repairs paid only halfway. A year later, it was finally put back together, with 3/4s of the drivetrain replaced, the frame rust-proofed and a new coat of Raptor finish in graphite color. Then, it stood at the local parking lot for five goddamn months before I got the courage to get behind the wheel and drive it.

So holy shit, there I was, trying to wriggle a two-ton War Elephant out of its parking space, some guy's shiny new Mercedes to the left, three trucks behind me and zero knowledge how the whole thing behaves - acceleration, braking, turn radius, I knew fuck-all about that. But, with some slight fettling, I got out of the parking space, out of the parking lot's gate and OHMOTHERFUCKERITURNEDTOOHARD. Literally, I turned the steering wheel too hard, jumped the curb, ran over the remnants of a decorative fence all of eight inches tall and swung the car back onto the road in the initial stages of a heart attack.

Fuck. And I mean, FFFFFFFUCK. Turned out that the two-ton War Elephant has really nice power steering for a beast slightly more than half my age and I need to turn gently. So, down the street I go, letting the pedestrians cross the road as they have the right of way on crossings without traffic lights, the brakes aren't that bad either, the soundtrack from Brutal Legend is blasting from the radio because my dad bought one with an USB port long ago and then asked me to make a thumb drive with his favorite songs on it (which I, sadly, failed to do), I'm GOING. Baby, am I going. But then, I have to turn into the large avenue and I'm all kinds of afraid what's gonna happen then.

So, apparently, the first rule of the road is "act like everyone else, and nobody will suspect you don't have a driver's license" (I actually do, for the record, I just didn't have a car for the last two decades and the last one I had to drive was a rusted-out fifth-gen Nissan Sunny with a busted manual gearbox that had issues with switching gears). So I'm rolling down the avenue, regulation 50 per (km/h, mind you), and I haven't even killed anyone yet. I'm even using turn signals, correctly, because the War Elephant has an American dashboard with two separate turn indicator lights so I know whether I'm flashing left or right. So, off to the right lane and I tuuuurn right into another avenue.

Much to my joy, I see a "Speed Limit: 80" sign on the overpass (this one is a part of the large transit road through the town), so I floor it. I floor it so eagerly to keep on the tail of the guy before me that I go all the way to 100 per before noticing and gently slow down back to 80 before hitting the tunnel.

I fucking knew I forgot something, and that something were the headlights. Halfway into the tunnel, I turn the headlight knob, swearing and hoping that no undercover cop car saw me. Okay, now we're driving 100% legit, only one car honked at me, no hits, no scrapes, I stay in my line like a motherfucking tram. Off a roundabout that isn't a fucking roundabout (who even named it like that?!), down another street and after some more uneventful ride I arrive at my dad's former apartment to pick up some junk from the basement. Hell, even parallel parking was easy because someone was nice enough to leave a car and a half's worth of space between the two already there.

I forgot to turn off the lights, as you can see in the photo, because I'm a derp and I haven't figured out what the incessant pinging after turning the engine off meant. So I take the photo, notice the lights on, open the car again, turn the lights off and head to the basement to pick up the junk.

Coming back was a bit more difficult, mostly due to me being unable to tell which of the three turns left was the correct one (note to self, it's the third one, the largest), but it resulted in an "always wanted to say that" moment when some absolute fuckwad decided to cut from the right lane all the way to the left and up the overpass, prompting me to go "Turning left from the right lane, you unschooled dickwad?! Last time I've seen idiots like you in Night City!"