#listen off-season does things to everybody

[vetteldixon]

on this international day of persons with disabilities, as one of them, i really do think it important to point out that quite a few of us prefer the term disabled person…for me personally it rubs me the wrong way because it feels like society is trying to fix deeply entrenched structural issues and prejudicial attitudes by hiding behind a little linguistic game. the world i (and others) want to live in is one where disabled is no longer a dirty word, and more importantly not a bad thing to be or identify as. saying that using this particular phrase is useful and important because it reaffirms that the disabled are people with dignity is…appalling, honestly, and hardly inspires hope that a society without ableism is possible anytime soon

[steviewashere]

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

--------

❤️

[snorlaxlovesme]

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

[thepladinsheart]

Mike's "Will Voice". - An Essay by me.

If you’re a byler you know about the “Will Voice '' . But if you somehow don’t or you’re new, the “Will Voice" is the voice that Mike uses when he is talking to Will and ONLY Will. Normally Mike is a little abrasive and defensive to most people when he is talking to them. But when talking to Will, his voice is soft and quiet, just above a whisper, gentle. 

Before we get into it, I think you should just know that the “Will voice” isn’t just something Byler’s made up! The directors tell Finn (the actor that plays Mike) to use a “special voice” when talking to Noah (The actor that plays Will) when filming.

DISCLAIMER - i actually didnt think this was going to be this long so sorry in advance but here are my thought i hope you enjoy! i love you!

“It was a seven, the Demogorgon. It got me.” - Season 1

One of the VERY FIRST SCENES in the show is Mike using his “Mike voice” Even if he really doesn't have to say anything at all. After Karen tells everybody to leave and all of the boys are hopping on their bikes to go home, Will is the only one left behind with Mike. Will admits to Mike that in the campaign they're playing, the Demogorgon got to him and killed him. 

Something about this scene is just so…. The look of understanding, the nod. Mike is just more gentle with will than anyone else. 

Right before this he was just arguing with Dustin about wether his sister is cool or not but with Will it’s different. 

Unfortunately, since Will really isn’t in the whole rest of the season, because yknow he’s in a whole other dimension there aren't a lot of other scenes where Mike is using his “Will voice” However, Mike was the person who wanted to find will the most behind maybe Joyce. Saying that he “was the only one who cared about Will”, so that is something. 

“Crazy together.” - Season 2 

In my opinion, season 2 is like beak soft byler. The first season 2 byler moment was..

The Arcade Scene

As soon as Mike snaps Will out of his trance, his vision, whatever you want to call it, he goes right back to Will's comforting voice and tries to make him feel better and distracts him with a game of dig dug. 

In the next episode, it's Halloween. And we ALL know what happened on Halloween night of 1987.

Will’s episode on halloween 

When Will has a bad vision, who is the first name he calls? Mike. Not Lucas, Not Dustin, not even Max. Mike. Not anyone else but Mike. And who was the first one to find Will and the first one to comfort him? Micheal Fucking Wheeler. And he was using the same soft voice he always does when talking to Will, barley over a whisper. Not to mention that Mike wouldn't let anyone touch Will but himself after Will snapped out of his episode. 

Talk in Mike’s Basement Scene

After Will had this awful episode, Mike takes Will and only Will back to his house. Will rambles and rants about how he feels stuck and Mike? He is attentive, sweet, listening, letting him get all of his words out. I’ve noticed with other people Mike can come off like he’s abrasive and harsh but with Will he is nothing close to that. 

This conversation also consists of Mike helping Will express his feeling by finishing his sentences for him when he just can’t get his words out. In the few times Mike does speak, he does not break out of the gentle voice and literally never breaks his gaze from Will, not once. 

EVEN WHEN MIKE TALKS ABOUT EL HE TALKS IN HIS WILL VOICE. AND THE ONLY REASON MIKE BROUGHT UP EL WAS FOR WILL’S BENEFIT. 

And then the most iconic Byler line in Stranger Things history, “If we’re both going crazy, we’ll go crazy together, right?” “Yeah, crazy together.” So gentle, so sweet, so wholesome.

The hallway scene 

Mike immediately notices something off with Will and has to make sure everything is okay. 

Side note: even when Will isn't with Mike and the party, Mike will literally do anything he can to help Will. That’s his only priority at the moment. 

Will’s bedroom scene

Even when Will is talking about “Him” Mike still reminds him that Will is a good person, calling him a “super spy”. Mike is doing absolutely anything he can to comfort Will and make him feel any better. (P.s. this moment is so wholesome I love it.)

And then the “yeah, yeah I really do” The PRIME example of “Will Voice”. The gentleness, the voice, the look, the nod, the reassurance, AND THEN THE REACH FOR THE HAND. 

Hospital Scene (Will wakes up)

Will wakes up and Mike is obviously right there (‘cause he slept in the chair next to the bed, WHICH IS LIKE MY FAVORITE BYLER MOMENT OF ALL TIME) and asks if Will is “hurting again”, Mike keeps his eyes steady on Will. His only focus is Will right now. He keeps his voice soft and he asks Will things to make sure he understands and that he is hearing what Will is going through right now. 

Mike recalling how they met 

Even though the poor boys voice is shaky because he is literally trying (and failing) to hold back tears, it’s still soft and reassuring. 

“It’s not my fault you don't like girls!” -Season 3 

The movie theater scene

This scene is one of my favs from Season 3. Mike is the first and only person to realize something is off with Will and say something to make sure he’s okay. The "you okay?” and “you sure?” are so gentle and soft. It reminds me a lot of someone jumping at a scary part in a movie and their partner wrapping their arm around them and asking if they’re okay. 

NOT TO MENTION THE NOT SO SUBTLE LIP GLANCES. 

(Also the little gay panic Will has after Mike ask if he’s okay and the blush on Mike’s cheeks before) 

The scene right before the fight scene

Mike immediately notices Will is upset after Mike makes his “joke” and he goes back to his voice that always gets Will and tries to convince him that they (him and Lucas) do really want to finish the campaign. 

The fight scene

Mike IMMEADLEY goes back to his will voice after he drops the bomb shell because he know he fucked up and he did it BIG TIME. The big difference between Mike’s “Will Voice” in Season 2 and Season 3 is that in Season 2 he was really using that voice with Will because he knew that it was comforting to him but now in season 3 he uses it because he knows Will will fall for it. 

(Also you know how Max says to El that Mike will come crawling back to El in no time? The only person he came crawling back to apologizing was Will.) 

“Get away from the door” Scene 

@myname1sca1 brought up a great point! The scene where Max is trying talk to Billy through the door, Will has a feeling that “He’s here” Mike stays turned and looking at Will says "get away from the door" it's in a gentle, quiet, soft voice and when Max doesn't listen, he turns away from Will and starts screaming at her do get away from the door again. He was only using that voice because he was looking at Will and dropped that voice as soon as he looked away. 

The “Not possible” Scene

Toward the end of season 3, Mike realizes that he was being (in his own words) an asshole the whole season and starts caring about Will again. And when Will comes out and puts his box of D&D on the donate box, the thing he has loved since forever, Mike makes sure that he knows he is giving it away. 

Will knows he’ll just use Mike’s when he visits and won’t join another party. That’s not possible.  

(Plus the look on Mikes face after Will says “not possible” is adorable.)

"I didn't say it." "You didn't have to." Season 4, Vol 1.

Will's bedrooms scene

OMFG THIS SCENE

Immediately Mike is relaxed. His voice low and calm and he's lighthearted. The "You didn't have to" AND THE SMILE. This is a COMPLETE contrast to has he is around El in this part of the season. When with her, he is all tense and feels like he can never say the right thing.

Also, the absolute adoration for Will in his voice. When he says "It's Hawkins, it's not the same without you."

You can also really tell that Mike is really confiding in Will and letting his guard down which he never really does with anyone. Including El. Especially with the whole line "I don't know what's going to happen next." And if you know Mike Wheeler he never tells ANYONE that he is wrong or that he doesn't know what's going on. So, the fact that he feels comfortable enough with Will is something.

"But you make her feel better for being different." Season 4, Vol 2

"We have to Kill him." "And we will." Scene

The MOMENT Mike finds out that Will can feel that 001 is there, he jumps back into being his reassuring, gentle self for Will. This scene reminds me a lot of the "Yeah, Yeah i really do" scene for season 2.

OMG WE ARE DONE, if you made it through all of that, I love you so much. If you want to see more things like this PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know because i love writing essays about Byler analysis!

also let me know if there's anything I missed because if i miss enough things i will gather it and but it in an update!

RESOUCES

Stanger Things I The First 8 Minutes - Series Opener [HD] (Still Watching Netflix on YouTube)

Stranger Thing 02x02 - Mike and Will 'Crazy Together' Scene (Raghaua Daroui on Youtube)

Byler compilation (Season 2-3) (GoraculGerard on Youtube)

every byler scene 1080p I Stranger Things Season 4 Vol 1 (longbttms on Youtube)

byler 1080p scene pack I Stranger Things Vol 2 (longbttms on YouTube)

@myname1sca1 's post!

people who wanted to be tagged!

@lebylershipper

@ash-the-wise

@tender-emotional-music

@wallywise

@willbyerswatch

@hearteyes-wheeler

@paloma-ascends-into-hellfire

@hollarious2

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 ! ( a collection of sentence starters from season  1 of nbc's “ good girls ”. adjust phrasing as necessary . will be updated in the future . mature themes are present . )

specificity is good , but that's over the top .

chill , i'm like two minutes late .

alright , everybody be cool and nobody gets hurt .

do you think i could make it in L.A. ?

i don't need all that . i just want to be super famous .

you know , i'm just not really much of a church person .

maybe next time you'll take security more seriously .

oh my god , can you please just listen to me for one damn minute ?!

shame on you . shame on all of you .

move it before i shoot your face off , let's go !

you should probably get yourself a lawyer .

why is it so crazy ? i mean , it's a victimless crime .

can't you have my back on one thing , ever ?

this is me helping you not ruin your life .

damn . that was a good sell .

i should have been more careful , i panicked .

no ! i mean ... i don't know . maybe .

we're gonna rob that store .

have you lost your mind ?

we can't sit back and let everything be taken away from us .

no one's gonna fix this . we have to do it ourselves .

[ name ] ... hello ? are you okay in there ?

how did you have the money for all of this ?

i'm here to clean up a mess , [ name ] .

it's not a knock , we all have our strengths and weaknesses . you're a beautiful dummy . it doesn't make you a bad person .

this is five grand . enough for a plane ticket , and to get you started .

i guess you won't mind if i go to the cops , then . right ?

i handled it because you couldn't .

you've got a little ... on your face , kind of looks like blood .

what am i looking at right now ? WHAT am i even looking at right now ?

[ name ] , this is life or death .

i choose death . GIVE ME DEATH .

i have ... sort of a favor to ask .

it's not like you can't afford it .

what do you need that much money for ?

thank you for making me completely humiliate myself for no reason .

this is what winning feels like .

i'm gonna need you to say it with me . we are winning .

it's not like you're gonna kill me .

you don't have the guts . you're not killers .

thought you'd pull a fast one , huh ? make a quick buck ?

girls like you , you never think things through .

you've done this your whole life . you make these big messes and expect everyone else to clean it up . then you just ignore it .

you can't leave me here forever .

you are an incredible liar .

when bad things happen to good people , everyone goes crazy .

if it could happen to us , it could happen to anyone .

roll the dice . tell them to pull the trigger . see what happens .

hey , looks like we've got a survivor .

i am going the speed limit . i don't wanna get a ticket .

where does he think he's going ? boy , this is hard to watch .

if you go to the cops , so will i .

i thought we were done with this .

oh ! you'd rather just declare a kilo at customs ?

– or we could just steal it .

are you hearing yourself right now ?

do not call me crazy .

what if we get caught ?

there's always a choice .

dude , it's never gonna end . unless we end it .

i'm not gonna shoot him , i'm just gonna scare him a little !

forgive me lord jesus , i did not mean to shoot that man .

are we supposed to knock or something ?

i wanted my music for the road trip .

how long has it been bleeding like this ?

i need to take you to the hospital , i think you need stitches .

i wish everything could go back to the way it was .

i had no damn idea how good i had it until it was gone .

i know you hate me right now .

i'm sorry . i suck .

i had to do something really , really important .

what's more important than me ?

is there something you want to ask me ?

just making conversation .

you know the tradition is jordans over a phone line , right ?

be outside in two minutes or you're dead , i mean it .

it's so crazy , even saying it .

you asked for this ? you ASKED for this ?

you can't sign people up for criminal activity like it's a bake sale !

that is NOT what i meant when i said i'd do another job .

so you think you get to pick and choose what you do and when you wanna do it ?

no , i'm sorry . that is not gonna work .

what's your gut say ?

i can prove it ! i mean i can't ... but i want to .

why should i apologize ?

chill out with the cayenne .

maybe we need like , smelling salts or something .

well , i want him to not die in my house .

i am so tired of almost dying .

hey ! ... don't be mad .

you're a dead man .

shut up , just don't say anything . i will handle it .

just say you're sorry .

i wanted to do something nice , so that maybe we could start fresh .

i'm not proud of my part in everything .

oh , yeah ? what does that mean ?

[cookii-moon]

ok ok so. I had.i had this thought. And I think it’d be really funny but only in the right situations.

so imagine if Cole could feel vibrations through the earth, right? Since that makes sense, and a lot of animals can do that anyways. but he doesn’t clock it as a master of earth thing. So he thinks it’s just. Like that for everybody.

so imagine he’s like sneaking around with the group, and to them, they’re like, the stealthiest ever!!! But since they’re so close Cole can sort of “hear” the vibrations of their steps so he’s like what the heck guys youre not stealthy at all we’re gonna get our cover blown!!!!! Because. He thinks they’re being really noisy. But really it’s just him that can hear them.

And ofc the others would be sort of like. Dude. We’re not making a single sound!!!, because to them they’re being very quiet, and so it’s sort of shrugged off as just. A Cole thing.

but snakes can also feel vibrations. So when the serpentine come up, imagine if they can ALSO hear the ninja and are just like smh you’re not good at sneaking at all. And obviously they’re really upset about this but also Cole is just taking it as an opportunity to go “i told you so”, the ninja STILL can’t hear their own or eachothers footsteps so they have no clue what’s up, but whatever, we’ll trust Cole!!!!

AND THEN JAY GETS SERPENTINE’D. And for a short while he can ALSO hear vibrations. So he’s like. Really confused before he notices, like wow,,,, I guess I just wasn’t listening well before!!! And then he realizes he’s becoming a snake, but he doesn’t connect the two until he turns back and suddenly he can’t hear it at all, and so now he’s 100% convinced that actually he was always right and Cole was always wrong and that no that’s just a serpentine thing.

but see now he’s just confused as to why Cole can feel them, because at that point they aren’t aware that the elemental powers weren’t just their weapons, and Cole’s been feeling them since day 1, but the fangpyre only got released recently and Cole’s been perfectly normal for the entire time he’s known him so like, he’s definitely not bitten or anything, so now he’s trying to argue with Cole that, no, they’re not loud, they’re being very stealthy, that’s just a serpentine thing and APPARENTLY also a Cole thing, no he does not know how they’re connected, and ALSO that Cole was JUST as loud as the others and he knows that because he could feel Cole’s footsteps too for a short time so he has ZERO right to bother Jay about it.

And like eventually itd just descends into a feud between Cole and Jay on whether theyre good at sneaking or not and the others just. Don’t even know at this point. They can’t be bothered. And then obviously they’ve found out Zane is a nindroid, so he can measure seismic and acoustic sounds, so he’d literally be able to tell, except he couldn’t be bothered getting involved, so the entire argument goes on for several seasons, up until the point where Jay asks Zane to help them figure it out and he’s just like. No that’s just a Cole thing he’s just hearing seismic frequencies lol. And jays just like. “WELL WHY DIDNT YOU TELL US THAT EARLIER?????”

And like at this point they would know about their powers so Cole would be forced to admit that no, he wasn’t right, he can just hear seismic frequencies, and by some chance, the very first villains they faced were serpentine who can also hear seismic frequencies, but for completely unrelated reasons. But he doesn’t want to admit that he’s been wrong for several years, so instead he’s decided that actually he was technically right and they weren’t stealthy during the serpentine fighting era because the serpentine COULD feel the vibrations thus making them not stealthy.

the others have decided that this is the best they’re ever going to get.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION *  assorted dialogue from season 3 of the show, adjust as necessary

everybody knew it, and nobody came forward.

you were in the car?

why didn't you just tell the police?

so let me get this straight. you decide to become one of them.

revenge is best served cold.

i get one phone call, right?

one must lie in the bed one has made.

you all right? don't let him get to you like that.

i was scared. and i still am. don't tell anyone, okay?

this wasn't just a murder.

don't touch me.

is this some kind of convention?

i guess i realized it's nice to see eye to eye with someone.

i get the impression that's a little tough for you.

i think we look for the differences in each other to prove that we're not alone.

you know, i hate it when he does that.

you know i could do this for you.

that had to be scary, huh?

i didn't have time to be scared.

deep down we're all narcissists.

what attracts us the most is ourselves.

is that who i think it is?

i guess clothes do make the man.

the only thing between me and a wardrobe like this is a few extra zeros on my paycheck.

this... this one just felt different.

it's not fake blood. it's human.

you killed her.

you missed me by a mile.

tell me something i don't know.

in fourth grade, i dropped out of karate class because a kid half my size made me cry.

don't insult me. luck is for those without skill.

we're gonna have to dismantle this piece by piece.

i think i can handle this.

we're up in a tree, and you're quoting poe.

you are what you throw away.

heard you got to be a superhero today.

you're my hero, [name].

i like those odds.

that's for you to find out.

if you handle them correctly, snakes are harmless.

have you ever seen anything like this before?

you don't just spontaneously develop a fatal head wound.

can you prove that?

i'm so tired of hearing that. i've heard it a million times.

you gotta get a girlfriend.

i thought we had a relationship!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

the best intentions are fraught with disappointment.

i can take care of this myself.

i'm just repeating what i've heard.

you're a good listener.

you already seem to know the answers to your questions.

i'm losing my balance.

there's a sucker born every minute.

you know, guys don't like that.

what happened to your enthusiasm?

what do you think caused these marks?

i wasn't being rude. i was being curt.

i like silent movies.

you sure you don't want me to do this?

it's physically impossible to absorb a fatal dose of cocaine through the penis.

we have a bigger problem than we thought we did.

i'm not looking at you.

the schedule says you're off tonight.

would you like to have dinner with me?

let's have dinner. let's see what happens.

by the time you figure it out, it really could be too late.

i wish you had come to me sooner.

i'm not going with you.

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 2: Summer

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Hunting and skinning squirrels. Chemical burns to skin. Piercing injury. Joel being a dick in a moment of self-preservation. Ellie's still a swear-mouth. Everybody makes some mistakes.

Summary: You solve a problem for Ellie and Joel really doesn't take it well.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Listen. I know those warnings up there seem like a bit much, but I promise you all of that is in passing, in service to the plot, and not described in detail. (With the exception Ellie's cussing. That will persist indefinitely.) This is stupid fluffy.

Your gut reaction is to fetch your gun and point it at Ellie’s head.

But the girl is calm.

And the bites are healed.

“Wanna shoot me, don’t you,” she challenges with a mismatched set of cocky mouth and world weary eyes. “This one happened before I met Joel. And this one the day after. This is why he took me to the Fireflies. He told me not to tell anyone. That’s why I freaked out.”

Earlier in the day you’d gone looking for Ellie, hoping to show her the honeybee hive you’d discovered at the edge of the meadow. She’d been bathing in the stream, stripped down to nothing. She’d shrieked when she saw you coming near and you’d laughed and kept your eyes averted, understanding the self-consciousness of teenagers, about to tell her to come and find you when she was done.

And then she roared.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! GO!”

It had been a punch to the heart if not a slap to the face, which you were certain by her tone you would have received had you been close enough.

Saying nothing, and simply obeying her wish, you’d turned and gone back to the Roost. Ellie stayed away so long that her hair was completely dry and her nose was sunburned when she finally joined you.

Every footfall had been an apology on the ladder. And every slow creak along the porch was following an olive branch to the broken down sofa you perched on to keep watch over the north meadow.

Taking a reticent seat beside you, she’d rolled up her sleeve. “I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t want you to see it. It’s kind of a life and death thing.”

“Obviously,” you answer, shellshocked. “Reaction warranted.” Dropping her arm to her lap and reaching up to pull down her cuff, you stop her, holding out a waiting hand. “Can I?”

Suddenly doe-eyed and struck by your acceptance, she nods and lays her forearm in your palm.

There’s instinctual revulsion at first, but it melts to wonder as you get a closer look at the scars. There’s nothing of skin breakage, no mycelium running underneath, nothing reaching for you through holes as there would be if you were having one of your nightmares.

Immunity. Statistically speaking, it had to exist, but she’s the first you’ve ever seen or heard of.

“I wondered why you’d choose to wear long sleeves in this heat. I see now. Joel was smart to tell you to keep it covered. This’ll get you killed faster than infection, that’s for sure.” The tendons in her arm flex involuntarily when you run your fingers over the marks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tickle.” She relaxes as you release her. This time she doesn’t move to cover the skin. “Out in the open with Joel, I can imagine why you were bit the second time. How’d you come by it the first time?”

“Messing around with a friend where I wasn’t supposed to.”

Ah. By the pull at her brow and the same laws of statistics, you’d hazard to guess that friend didn’t make it. Probably another kid like her. Tragic.

“I see. And that’s why you were being smuggled. That’s why they wanted you. Well, what did the Fireflies make of you?”

She clearly catches the way you slather contempt onto the name of the terrorist organization, but answers your question. “They wanted to make a cure from my blood. They had me on the operating table but raiders attacked the hospital and killed everyone while I was under. So I guess we missed our chance.”

A quiet minute passes as you watch her tracing her thumb over the scar, lost in thought, brow twisted, recounting the ordeal of that day. Something doesn’t sit right with her about it.

And neither does it sit right with you.

Doctors don’t put a person on an operating table just to draw blood.

And you’ve heard stories of what Joel’s capable of.

You’ve witnessed just how protective he is over this little girl.

Her reverie dissolves when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “While I’m sorry they never got the chance to find the possibilities, I understand enough about research medicine to know that the likelihood of their finding a cure from just one person is almost impossible. So while they might have been able to study your blood, they most likely wouldn’t be able to get enough of it or keep it stable long enough to find any answers.”

“How do you know that?”

Over the next hour as the sun sinks in the sky and she soaks up your history, you tell her about your sister. How you and her and Maria were a tight-knit team growing up, how in love with Maria she was, how you were certain they were going to get married one day.

Then you tell her how Maria went off to law school and your sister got sick, that the cancer was rare and the treatment was long and expensive, so your parents had opted for research to fray some costs and keep the ranch.

In the end, there were no answers, not without more donors of her ilk.

Your parents took a loan against the ranch, knowing full well they would lose it, but everyone agreed it was worth it for whatever time it would buy her.

And then Jakarta fell. And the world went to hell.

A few of the elderly residents of the Jackson basin came to hole up on the ranch and most of Willa’s family and tribal branch moved over from their land to form a protective new family group. It worked for a few years. It was safe. It was a thriving little commune.

And then the Fireflies came.

“There were Fireflies out here too?”

“Oh yeah, they were in every QZ, spreading their lies and chaos through the telegram towers, recruiting poor young suckers wherever they took root and getting them all killed. You tangled with them and I’d say you’re lucky you’re alive.”

Ellie frowns down at her arm again. “What did they do when they came here?”

Another story then. Now you explain with a little less nostalgia how the Fireflies came to use your ranch as a base. Trucks coming and going at all hours. Gunshots in the night. Catching the attention of roving packs of raiders. People got hurt. People died.

There was one day when two Fireflies went out foraging mushrooms with old Ms. Celia. They brought her body back on a makeshift sled. Just keeled over, they said.

Funny how the same thing happened the week before with old Ms. Margie. What a coincidence that it was happening when the food supplies were running low.

But the last blow came when the ranch was attacked by raiders a third time. There was a plan in place to create a distraction, draw their attention away from the ranch. The Fireflies knew your sister was sick and designated she do the job. They put a gun to your head when you protested.

It’s okay, she’d said, I don’t have much left to lose. If I’m going out, at least the people I love will be safe.

It was a shit plan.

A lot of people died that day. Most of them were raiders, thanks to Willa and her tribe. Some of them were Fireflies thanks to you and your shotgun.

“So did you win?”

“No. The barriers were still broken. And the ranch was burned to the ground.”

The evening sky is a mix of purples and gold now, the flocks of birds swooping over the meadow are starting to vie for their meal of mosquitos and gnats with an increasing number of bats. Ellie watches one in particular as it swoops up and over the roof of the Roost.

“What about your parents?”

“They burned with the ranch.”

She nods solemnly, without horror, the attitude of a child that’s seen too much.

“And your sister died too then?”

"She got away at first. Found her in the woods a week later with a bite like yours, but she was long gone by then. One of Willa’s brothers did the shooting.”

Another quiet nod. “What was your sister’s name?” she asks as an evening bird calls.

It was bound to come up.

“Eleanor. We called her Ell. Ellie, when she was little.” When you can see the unearned guilt building in her face you bump her shoulder playfully. “It was almost twenty years ago. I hold onto the good memories. She was sweet and kind to everyone she met, never backsassed our parents, never disobeyed. So basically nothing like you at all.” You laugh when she shoots you an annoyed look. “Not that she was an angel though! She had her fire; you didn’t want to get on her bad side. And she was whip smart. That’s where the two of you meet I think.”

“Sounds like you lost everything at once.”

“I did,” a fact you aknowledge as you stretch and get up, heading back into the cabin to light the lantern. “But Willa helped me through. And then Jackson got its walls up and Maria found her way home and I had family again.” Once the lantern flickers to life, you grab your bag and start pawing through it. “You keep going for family.”

“That’s what Joel says.”

“Huh. You know what? I believe you. Here,” pulling a tank top out of your pack you toss it at her and it smacks her in the face. “While you’re out here you can wear that and not die of heat stroke in those knit tops. But when you’re out in the sun, put something over your shoulders or use the tsuga paste. Your skin hasn’t seen sun in a while and the last thing I need to do is bring you back cooked like a Christmas goose and have Joel all up in my ass about it.”

“That actually sounds like a good thing for both of you, if you ask me.”

“Watch it.”

“What? I didn’t say anything! Look at the time! We should be spinning wool! How I love spinning wool. Whoopee!”

“Like I said. Nothing like my sister. You little shit.”

________

“Meadowlark to patrol.”

“This is patrol.”

“Starling and I are on the southeast side of the meadow near the chokecherry copse and we’ve found a honeybee hive. I’m going to tie red flags to the surrounding trees. You wanna put the word out that some of these cherries are ready to go and get someone suited out here to scope out this hive?”

“This will make four hives now.”

“I know. We’re getting lucky this year.”

“Will do, Meadowlark. We’ll radio in before we cross borders.”

“Copy. Out.”

On the way back to the Roost you and Ellie stop to greet a group of sheep lazing in the grass, sitting down and sharing cherries with them from a basket between the two of you.

“They can eat these?” she asks.

“Sure. They can pretty much eat whatever we do. Chokecherries are fine. Just don’t give ‘em the leaves or stems. Those are poisonous.”

This means taking the time to pull cherries away from the branches until there’s a handful to feed the sheep. Normally you’d be fending them off during this, they’d be insistent and impatient, but the heat of the day has them lazy and languid.

It’s also working on Ellie as she yawns, stretching her white arms plastered in pine and sunflower paste for protection, her scar marring her otherwise unburned forearm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you hand her another branch to start shucking. “Willa does tattoos. She could cover that for you.”

Ellie hesitates. “Maybe.”

“What. You don’t want a tattoo? I thought you might like that. It would be pretty badass. We could cover it with a starling or something….”

“I guess.” You wait for her excuse. It’s a decent one. “I just…It would mean Willa would know too. Joel told me not to tell anyone. I don’t think I should.”

“I understand. That’s kinda why I suggested Willa. The woman’s a vault.” But Ellie’s fingers stop picking berries, as if she doesn’t know what to do or what to say. “Oh. I see. You don’t want Joel to know you told anyone. Even me.”

She nods.

She changes the subject then–something about him wanting to keep her safe, even teaching her to use a shotgun to protect herself–but your mind keeps working on the problem.

It’s only when you make it back to the ladder at the Roost, one foot frozen on the bottom rung, that you find the answer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks from behind you.

Under the posts of the Roost is a load of firewood. And under that wood….

“Ellie…if there was another way to get rid of your scar, would you?”

“What. You gonna give me some kinda bird tattoo yourself? Is it gonna look like a blob or–”

“I mean, do you want it gone at all?”

She pulls herself out of her slouched position to her full height. “I mean…yeah…I think a tattoo is actually a great idea I just…”

“What if Willa didn’t have to know? What if she thought she was covering up something else?” Pulling a few armfulls of wood away from the side of the pile, you uncover a wide plank of wood, once a handsome cedar coffee table top, now a sunken excuse for a forest cellar door. Prying the wood out of its depression, you reveal an earthen pit housing a couple of shovels, a couple pairs of oilskin mittens, and a covered earthen pot.

“This,” you point to the pot, “is lye. We keep it out here in case one of the sheep dies from infection or illness. It’s important to bury the sheep to keep it away from the flock. But even if you bury a carcass, bear and coyotes will come sniffing around and dig it up. We discourage that with this. Lye breaks down organic matter. That’s why we have gloves in here. It burns skin.”

Ellie frowns into the pit, understanding slowly dawning until she asks with a gasp, “Does it hurt?”

“Hells yes it does. It’s a burn, Ellie. It hurts like a son of a bitch, there’s no way I’d lie about that. But it will twist the features of that scar. You’ll never have to dodge suspicion again.”

“Mother. Fucker,” her whisper shakes, but she eyes the pot in steady fascination.

“You know what?” You throw the tabletop back down over the hole, “I saw a whole lot of squirrels around those chokecherries and they’re actually good eating if you get a few of them and throw ‘em in a pot with some potatoes and onion and garlic…. Too bad their skins are too small to be useful. But we can’t just leave ‘em lying around, you know. So if you and I were to go out and get a few and make a stew, and say I was to show you how the lye works with the leavings… well, something might happen.” The girl looks you dead in the eye, her jaw dropping open a little in disbelief. “What do you say? You wanna go out and do some target practice? Get some squirrel for dinner?”

A switch flips in Ellie’s spine and her eyes spark cold and bright, two supernovas in a smiling galaxy.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get the rifle.”

________

“Good shot!” you cheer as a third squirrel drops from a branch and you share a high five. “Wonder who taught you that! Damn, girl! Three for three. Tonight, we feast.”

“So, when are we doing this?” Ellie smiles as you walk back to the Roost, the barrel of the rifle slung over one shoulder, a string of fuzzy dinner swinging from the other.

“Tomorrow morning. Willa will be coming in at noon and that should give us some time to get a good burn in before she arrives. It should be fine, but if anything goes wrong, she can help and that makes me feel better about it. Ellie…. You sure you trust me with this?”

“I can’t die from it, right?”

“No, but you might want to. It’s sure as hell not gonna be pleasant.”

“Lady, I spent half a year walking across the country with Joel. I’m a master at dealing with unpleasant.” By now the sheep are familiar with the sound of Ellie’s laughter and a few perk up on your way past to follow you lazily back to the Roost. “But, like, I don’t understand why we have to go through all this with the squirrels. Don’t get me wrong, I like the target practice and all…”

You take the squirrels from her and set up a makeshift butcher’s block on a stump left waist high specifically for this purpose. “I don’t want to lie to Joel when he freaks out about you getting hurt. We had squirrels. We disposed of the leavings. You got burned with the lye. Truth truth truth.”

“You think he’ll be mad at you?”

“Oh, I’m already counting that into the equation. I know you seem to think he’s fond of me, but not all the evidence leads up to that. You know how to clean a squirrel?”

“Sure do,” she grins as she trades the rifle for your boot knife and, taking the first rodent in hand, she works it skillfully, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, skinning the critter in one go. “Thanks, little buddy. You were cute, but you’ll be gooooooood eating.”

“You’re a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah, well, guess who taught me this?” she says as she morbidly slices through another one, making dramatic death noises as she goes. “Why do you think he doesn’t like you? Joel’s stupid about you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Jesus, Ellie.” With a sigh and a shake of the head, you indulge her question and your own immature angst. “Well, for starters, I can tell he doesn’t think much of some of my conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Another skin lands at her feet.

“He just…doesn’t answer questions sometimes. Ignores comments. Doesn’t like to join in on the joke.”

“This is a big one,” she grunts, tugging at the final squirrel. “What side are you standing on when he ignores you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you standing when you talk to Joel? He’s deaf in his right ear.”

You blink.

And suddenly a hell of a lot of things make a hell of a lot of sense.

That one time you complimented his shirt and he said nothing, you were on his right.

That one time you poked fun at his scowl. On his right.

You cracked that joke, offered a piece of pie, told him everything would be alright.

Right. Right. Right.

“I…didn’t know that,” you stammer stupidly, flinching when Ellie hands your knife back and heads for the ladder.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I’m gonna go get a bowl.” You’re still in shock as she starts climbing. “Don’t expect him to get down on one knee when he asks you to marry him; he’s got shitty knees too. He’s happy to complain about it if you ask him. Make sure it’s in his left ear.”

________

“Okay, look at me, Ellie. Breathe.”

She nods, her eyes burning with determination over the shirt you’ve tied around her nose and mouth to protect her from inhaling the mix.

As you sit in the grass a few meters from the stream with her arm resting in your mittened hands, you lay the lye-laden cloth over the scar and enclose it with pressure.

Her breath comes heavily. Bravely. Then you hear it change as the lye begins to work.

“Shit. It itches,” she hisses. “Shit. Shit shit fuck fuck ow it’s getting worse–”

“You want me to stop?”

“No shit fuck I can do this I got this shiiiiiiiiiit!”

“I won’t let you go too long but you let me know if you need–”

“I’m fine! FUCK!”

It’s when she screams that you know it’s enough and releasing her, you order, drill sergeant style, “Go! Go! Go! Fifteen minutes! Don’t look at it!”

Ellie bolts into the ice cold stream, sneakers and all, gasping as the water washes the cloth away from her. “Shit. I thought it would feel better. It doesn’t!”

“Does it feel worse?”

“No, it just fucking burns!”

A sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good. Just… just let it rinse. Do you feel woozy at all?”

She just shakes her head, looking down through the water. “It’s getting red. And puffy.”

“No broken skin?”

“No.”

“Good. It’ll probably blister up some.”

Ellie might not be feeling woozy, but you sure are. Was it a reckless idea? Probably. Will it actually work? Hopefully. Do you feel bad that she’s gonna be in pain for a while? Fuck yes. But then you remember when she put on your tank top and just … laid in the grass and smiled. Even if she never wore short sleeves again, at least nobody was going to make a fast decision with a gun to her skull.

You really should have checked with Joel though. No matter what Ellie wants, you know full well it wasn’t your call to make.

Another problem for another day.

“Everything okay down there?” Willa’s black braids glint in the sun as she walks down from the Roost.

“Ellie had a run in with the lye,” you call back.

“Yeah, I see you were composting. I filled in the hole.” She hardly even stops when she reaches you, simply pulls off her boots and heads straight into the water. “Let’s see. Oh yeah. That’s a burn alright.”

As Willa inspects Ellie’s submerged arm, the girl looks up and smiles at you, giving you a wet thumbs up. “Hurts like a motherfucker!"

“I’ll bet,” the woman hums dryly. “That’s going to swell up and scar pretty bad. Why don’t you sit and let the water do its work. Meadowlark and I will go pack your things and I’ll grab the gauze in the first aid kit.”

Willa doesn’t ask questions as you pack up, just the regular routine of information trade off. You tell her that you’ve marked a few sheep with blue dye to keep an eye on for injuries or dehydration. And she lets you know what’s going on in town, including the fact that there’s gonna be a wedding with a reception at the food hall over the weekend.

“Really? Who?”

“Bear and Missy Tippet.”

“Your uncle??? Willa, I can stay; don’t you wanna be there?”

She laughs. “Hell no I do not. You know exactly how I feel about Missy Tippet; same as you. I’d rather be out here. Perfect timing. They’ve been keeping each other warm on and off for years now. Maybe this will finally keep her on. As much as I hate to picture that,” she shivers.

Willa’s such an even-keeled soul and it’s not just anyone she’ll shit talk in front of. “Well, your secret’s safe with me. If it is a secret that is.”

“What’s a secret?” Ellie interrupts as she pulls herself up to the balcony from the ladder with one hand.

Willa takes a little time to show her the correct way to bandage the burn–not too tight–while you pack the horses, as well as instructing you where to find her stash of willow bark if Ellie needs it for the pain.

But something tells you that Eliie’s gonna tough it out. Though she holds her arm gingerly as she rides, fisting the reigns in her left hand, the girl grins all the way back to Jackson like she’s just pulled off the heist of the century.

________

Jackson is busy when you ride through the gates midday, folks passing by on their way to visit, deliver, build. Purpose in Jackson is taken seriously, as is leisure, and both are on display as you pass by the rustic main drag, in many different ways frozen in time–log storefronts and Mickey Mouse tshirts, leather-saddled livestock and Japanese fans.

You spot Joel waiting at the stables before he sees you, distracted by none other than Missy Tippet. Getting herself married or not, the stunning woman is a glutton for attention and a class A flirt, and she’s not the only one in town whose head turned the minute Joel took up residence.

Not that you can blame her, with him in that tight grey tshirt, busting a carpenter’s arms out of its sleeves and contouring it with sweat…. By the dust on his face, he’s been working today. Probably took a break to wait for–

“Ellie. Hey! You decided to come home.”

“Yup,” she says, throwing him the reins to distract him while she gingerly dismounts. “I shot three squirrels!”

You avoid Joel’s questioning glance as you slide down from your own mare and lead her into a stall. “Go on, you two, I’ll stable up. Nice to see you, Cinnamon Roll.”

But they’re already on their way, an engaged chattering, laughing questions and energetic answers…and your teasing goes unheard. Ah. Wrong ear, you realize.

Missy smirks; condescends.“Cinnamon roll, huh? Good try, I guess.”

You don’t rise to her bait. “Just giving him sass. He’s obviously not a fan. You gonna help me with these saddles or keep slobbering all over the men that aren’t your fiancee what come on by?”

Okay. Maybe a little rising.

________

It’s your ritual, first thing back from the meadow. The Roost holds a special place in your heart, but the one thing it can’t deliver is a shower. Great gods of earth and sky, let there be thanks that warm water’s still a thing, even in summer.

You’re still dripping, one head tilted to the side as you drain the last of the water out one ear, when there’s a knock at the front door downstairs.

Well, let’s see. There aren’t that many people who know you’re back yet and Ellie’s come home with a bandage on her arm. It’s easy to guess who’s knocking. Okay. Let’s get this over with.

When you answer the door wrapped in nothing but a towel, it obviously wasn’t what Joel was expecting, and if he walked over here with any ire, it instantly freezes and shatters like a bubble on the tundra when he takes in all the skin on display.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t invite you in for snacks at the moment.”

Deflated, he simply rams his hands in his pockets, squinting. “You wanna tell me about Ellie’s arm?”

“I had planned on it at a time when I wasn’t wet and naked, but sure.” When he throws his hands up in defeat and turns to leave, you stop him, catching at his sleeve and stretching the fabric so it snaps back against his arm. “Hey. Wait. Yes. I was going to tell you.” As you cross your arms over the towel and lean on the door frame, he does much the same on the other side, averting his eyes and trying not to fidget. And failing. “It happened this morning. She shot some squirrels and we dressed ‘em for dinner last night and buried the bones and pelts. Gotta lye ‘em or animals come digging. I thought she could handle it. Looks like we both got burned, so to speak.” His face is stony. Unamused. You continue. “Willa looked at it this morning, we got it a good rinse. I’m gonna go by her place later and grab some willow bark and show Ellie how to compress.” He shakes his head at his boots. “Hey. She’ll be fine, Joel.”

“I don’t want her getting hurt out there.”

“And I do? It’s a chemical burn, not a clicker bite. She’ll learn from it. Kids can’t be put in glass cages.” It’s here that you pretend not to see the flash in his eye at the mention of bites, meanwhile noticing a bad scrape on his forearm. Seeing your opening, you reach out to draw a finger over it. “Jesus, Joel. Look at this. This. See? We all have occupational hazards. Come on.”

With a sigh you turn and pad into the kitchen to your first aid drawer, taking a chance that pays off--you’re surprised to hear him actually following. It takes a minute to dress the wound and you’re not ginger about it–water, apple cider vinegar, gauze. It’s a quiet minute though, one you thought you could power through, and maybe you could have, if you were in anything more than a towel…or couldn’t hear him breathing…or feel it on your skin. Trying to play it cool and get a vibe check on him, you look up only to catch his eye shifting away from your bare shoulder back to your work on his arm.

It’s time to break the silence, but you don’t feel the need to be on the defense anymore.

“We don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around, you know. Don’t let this stuff fester, okay, cinnamon roll? You and that daredevil kid are a matching pair, you know that?”

He only grunts, half rolling his eyes at you, jaw set, voice at a soft compromise. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her going back out there until she’s healed up. Limited use of both arms is a good path to more accidents.”

“Fair. You win. Summer’s pretty slow anyway. I could use the quiet.” Laying it on thick, you tie up the ends of the gauze before releasing him back into the wilds. “Warm sun, buzz of bees. Sweet smell of grass and lupines. Meadow’s a good place for afternoon naps. Easier to do without an apprentice yapping my ear off.”

He nods thoughtfully at this--your words showing their effect--and slowly turns and heads for the door.

And you smile knowingly as you watch him go.

“You know,” you call out just before he closes the door behind him, “door’s open at the Roost. You can always come out there with her if you’re so concerned. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on a broke-down sofa on the porch.”

Without looking back, he pauses briefly in the patch of summer glare. Then he silently steps out and pulls the door shut, leaving only the click of the latch and the sunlight through the leaded glass.

Well. That certainly could have gone much worse.

________

At least you’re wearing more clothes when it finally does go worse.

“What happened here, squirt?” Tommy taps his fork on Ellie’s bandage at family dinner.

And Ellie answers with a light jab to his arm. “Ow, you dick! That hurts!”

“Ellie–” a scold in stereo from both you and Joel.

As her teacher, the admonishment was instinctual. But in current context, it may have been a breach of place. The table goes silent as Joel’s head snaps in your direction and everyone else’s eyes bounce between you two, utterly amused. There’s a moment when you’re afraid he might just continue to glare, but then he cracks half a smile, shakes his head, and goes back to shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

It’s a reaction that lets you know Joel’s forgiven you, back to allowing you to be a rearing force in Ellie’s life.

“Meadowlark let me do some target practice and I shot some squirrels for dinner. Had to bury the skin and bones with lye and I got burned. Oops.”

“Oh my god,” Maria chews. “Are you okay?”

Ellie gives her a precocious smile and follows it with sarcastic condescension. “Yes, I’m going to live. As long as some people let it heal and stop hitting me with sharp things because they think they’re funny and they’re not.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out at Ellie and Maria laughs at them both before getting up to go fetch another jar of pickles from the pantry, holding her growing belly and waving off her husband's attempts to help.

“Rabbit’s better eating,” Tommy points out, returning to the subject at hand.

Ellie pops a stringbean into her mouth, clearly in a good mood. “But their hides are useful. Don’t have to bury them.”

The moment after she says this is like a lightning flash, and your reaction matches hers as you both freeze, realizing what she’s just accidentally said.

“Squirrels are faster, smaller, better target practice,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to act casual.

Tommy shrugs and nods, agreeing, oblivious, going to town on his ear of corn.

But Joel’s gone still, staring you down across the table, then casts a glance at Ellie…and her arm.

Shit.

Tommy and Maria are blissfully unaware of Joel’s turn for the quiet during the rest of the meal, not that he’d been very talkative to begin with. But the hesitant glances and shy smiles are gone now, replaced with a restrained patience and a few calculating glances.

It’s Maria’s turn to wash and Tommy’s to dry and yours to clear the table. But with every trip into the kitchen, you glance through the window over the sink into the yard where Joel and Ellie are having a spirited conversation under the tree at the far end.

'Spirited conversation' might be too polite a term. More like a one-sided lecture. Soon enough you have the table wiped down and you’re making a bee-line out the back door while Tommy and Maria argue about the best technique for drying a glass.

“That is not okay,” Joel hisses, trying to keep his voice low, giving Ellie’s shoulder a rough shake. “What if something went wrong? Huh? You could have burned down to the bone!”

“Joel, Joel, hey,” you whisper as you come to complete the triad. “Don’t. She confided in me. It was my idea.”

Nostrils flaring, lips pressed together, head wagging, he glares. “Of all the reckless, stupid….”

“I wanted to!” Ellie pleads, and you shut her down.

“That’s true, but Joel’s right and I knew it. I shouldn’t have–”

“If you tell anyone–” he warns, his eyes going full retribution against you--a hot coil ready to spring--and it petrifies you, takes you by the heart and squeezes.

“She won’t! Joel!”

“She’d better not.”

It’s a tense moment, one that surprises you. Scares you. In the months you’ve known him, Joel’s been a quiet and withdrawn creature, opening up in increments as you’ve done your best to build your trust, taming him slowly week after week, hoping for nothing more than having him someday eating out of your palm, pushing his cheek into your hand for gentle reassurance…

But in one fell swoop you’re back at the starting line–beyond the starting line. The papa bear in him is showing, bearing its teeth, and you’ve spent too much time among sheep, forgetting the valuable lesson that wild animals can never truly be tamed.

“I will burn this place to the ground if you ever hurt another hair on her head.” The quiet threat is feral and stinging and steals your breath before it’s over.

The things he’s capable of...those things are here and now and he could do them all to you before you had the chance to run.

The way he looks at you pulls the heat from the earth.

Before you can break from your paralysis, they’re gone, Joel pushing Ellie out of the yard toward home.

The stars are coming out. If there are crickets, you don’t hear them. Every sense seems to have shifted into neutral. Except breathing. That comes back with a hunger.

“Joel and Ellie take off?” Tommy calls from the window.

“Yeahhhh,” you call back without turning. “Tired. The heat. Think I might head home too.”

“Take a jar of these pickles. We have too many and Maria can't stomach them right now. I’ve got pickles coming out my damn ears.”

“Okay. Thanks, T. Pickles. Will do."

________

The following few days are...confusing. You should go out and grab some supplies on the main street, but actually fear running into Joel or Ellie. It’s stupid, and it makes you angry; it’s not that you’re afraid of him, it’s just…

You’re disappointed in yourself. Because everything’s upset now. Sure, you wanted to get close to them, but you overstepped, put Ellie in danger, made Joel feel unsafe. Everyone should feel safe in Jackson. Everyone should feel safe in the meadow. And you took that away from him.

Joel.

Why him? What about him do you need to have so badly? Why do you feel the need to fix him? To give him that safety?

Because Joel and Ellie so badly need a home. And you have an excess of home within you.

And little else.

You’ve never been lonely before. Why now?

Something about them….just fits.

Or so you thought. Or may have thought. Before you ruined it.

It’s better to just sit home and knit. Winter will be here soon enough and people need sweaters, dammit. You have a job to do.

But you can’t stay hidden away forever, especially not when there’s a wedding in the community.

________

“Bear, Missy, you’ve said your vows in front of all of us here tonight. We are all witness to your commitment. All in agreement, say aye!”

“AYE!”

“And those of you who want to spoil this good time, say nay!”

Bear’s brother pipes up from the side of the mess hall. “Nay!”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Bear laughs.

“Perfection is tempting devils!” his brother teases.

“Let ‘em come,” Bear shouts. “I’ll tear ‘em all down for my lady love, the prettiest girl in Jackson!” There’s applause and laughter as he kisses his new bride and the mood shifts as he roars, “Drinking and dancing!!!”

“Ugh. Good thing Willa isn’t here to see this. She’d be so annoyed.” Maria yells in your ear over the din as you huddle around your favorite table at the back of the hall. “I thought Missy would never settle down.”

“Bear must earn his name in the sack,” you crack back at her, and she clinks her glass against yours in agreement.

Tommy and Joel sit across the table from you, facing away toward the front. But when Tommy turns to join in the conversation, Joel remains facing out to the crowd, watching as tables are pushed to the side to make a dance floor, quietly pulling sips from a frothy cider.

He’s still pissed at you.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask Tommy, not even attempting to address the wall of Joel-shaped ice.

“Over beyond, with the other big kids.”

You don’t turn to look, but Joel does after hearing the comment, before turning back to watch the crowd.

A band strikes up. Friends stop by and chat. Some of Tommy and Joel’s work friends come and take over the table–the boys all getting loud and rowdy–so you and Maria escape to the edge of the dance floor, beverages in hand, dancing–but not really–in place.

“What’s going on?” Maria finally asks over the music and the general glee.

“Hmm?”

“You two keep watching each other, but you’re not talking. What’s going on.”

You can’t keep from glancing over at the table…again. You weren’t aware of him taking any interest in you though.

“We had an argument the other day. I think I fucked things up.”

She pulls a face, comically surprised. “I would have guessed the other way around, but okay. You push him too hard or something?”

“Something like that.”

Glancing back over her shoulder at Joel and then back at you, Maria gives you her lawyer face. “He’ll come around. Tommy says he’s the last person to apologize for anything and if he does, you know it means a big deal. But if you’re willing to extend the olive branch first, that can go a long way.”

“Well, maybe not tonight,” you sigh, stealing a glance, watching as he drains his glass. “He’s had a few.”

But you can’t even convince yourself, handing your drink to Maria as Joel sets down his glass, slaps the table and pushes himself up, leaning forward to wish his buddies a good night. You follow him out of the mess hall like some lovestruck teenager strung out on a last hope.

“Joel. Joel!” Catching up with him halfway down the block, the light and noise from the party still follows as you get out in front of him. “Joel, stop. I have to apologize to you. Please let me.”

Though he’s backlit, you can still make out his tired glare. “Don’t. It’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Ellie’s important to you. You're her guardian. It wasn’t my call to make. I’m sorry.”

He waits a moment before throwing you an irritated prompt. “But?”

“But? I don’t know. She was hot in that long sleeve shirt and she showed me her arm–I can’t imagine what she went through. I just felt for her. But I did have a gut reaction when she showed me, Joel. Anyone would, but most wouldn’t hesitate for long. And those bites could get her killed. All I wanted was for her to be free from that. To be a kid. I’d say I wasn’t thinking, but...I was, Joel. Fuck was I thinking. I was thinking about her just being a kid and not getting killed.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I guess. Except… I really don’t want you to punish her for my decision. She loves it out there. She thrives. And if you don’t trust me, my offer stands. Come with us. See for yourself.”

A huffed laugh. “Yeah? Do I get a callsign then?”

Your fatal flaw is jumping to the joke and the playful tease too soon, as you do now, anticipating his forgiveness. “Of course you do, grey fox.”

And that’s when he reaches out, pulls you close with strong hands.

Which would be exhilarating, if it wasn’t too close. And if his breath didn’t smell of cider.

“Why don’t you just take what you want,” he growls, quietly, coldly, jaw set, lips hardly moving.

It’s not fear that pings up your spine–now that you’ve had a taste of his anger and gotten over the initial shock from the other night, you know Joel won’t hurt you, not here, not as part of your found family, he knows better–

It’s bitter disappointment.

“What?”

His grip tightens, digs in. “It’s obvious what you want. Just go ahead. We’re both fucking lonely enough and I’m too old for games.”

He’s right here with you in the dark, his breath on your lips, your fingers twisting into the shoulders of his tshirt…but it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. And it’s hurting.

So you slowly push off his chest.

And the light from the mess hall hits your face again; something there causes his shoulders to drop, causes him to let you go.

A cheer rises up from the celebration that you’ve left behind, that you don’t feel like returning to, but neither can you be alone right now, so it’s likely your only choice.

“I’m not playing games, Joel. I never was. I like you. A lot. Both you and Ellie. I just didn’t want to spook you. But...I also don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. So…maybe I read you wrong. Or maybe we need different things.”

“What do you need?” It almost falls out of him, uncontrolled, unemotional, a gathering of facts.

And your answer comes the same way, surprising you as you’re sure his own question surprised himself.

“A home.”

It’s a quiet night, perfectly warm. You’re sure if you went home right now, the fireflies–the good kind–would be out in the back yard.

Instead, you give him a shellshocked nod–of finality, of punctuation–and follow your feet back toward the light, toward happiness and love that you can’t share at the moment. And you don’t look back.

________

When you don’t show up for family dinner that week, Maria comes knocking the next day.

Knocks, yes, but does not wait for an answer. In sisterly fashion, she makes straight for your wool room and sits calmly on the edge on the daybed there, staring at you as you mend a hole in a sweater.

“Missed you at our table last night.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t matter how hard she stares, you continue to avoid it and concentrate on the work in your hands.

“That was an invitation for you to explain.”

“I’m aware.”

“Girl–”

“I’m not getting along with Joel right now. Ellie has…this thing on her arm that she doesn’t want anyone to know about. You notice how she would wear long sleeves even in the heat? I felt bad for her. So I… suggested…the lye.”

This doesn't faze her. “It was on purpose. And Joel found out. I see.” Leaning back into the pillows with a pregnant grunt, she swings her feet up onto the daybed. “Is hiding helping? You know we all know where you live, right?”

“Are you really putting your muddy shoes on my quilt?”

“So you’re just going to avoid him.”

You squint at the binding. “I’m gonna have to raid the commissary for some better glasses. My eyesight’s getting out of hand.”

“You’re going to avoid us. Me and Tommy and Ellie.”

Letting out a huge sigh, you concede to her tenacity because she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. “For now.” When her tongue clicks, you finally look up. “Listen. I apologized and he’s still mad. I agree with you that he’ll get over it, but he hasn’t yet, and that means I haven’t either. And I’m not as good at turning on my bitch face as that one is.”

“So we shouldn’t expect you next week either.”

“Nope,” you pout, tackling the sweater again with focused frustration. “I traded with Goldie. Going out a week early.”

“You’re running away.”

“I’m stressed out and I need to not be here, yes!” You admit, throwing down the knitting. “What is the big deal? I don’t have to get along with everyone in Jackson! You don’t!”

You understand that flat look from her, known it since you were kids. She’s counting to 10, giving you the chance to calm down so one of you can speak the truth and speak it calmly.

“But you want to get along with Joel.”

Of course she was going to say that. Because it’s what you’re thinking and not wanting to say out loud and she can read you like a book.

“Yeah. I really do. You know I do.”

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up with effort and crossing the room to kiss her fingers and press–nay, slap–them to your forehead before heading out. “Go on and go to your happy place. Go calm down in your little clubhouse. I was just worried about you is all. Brought you leftovers. They’re on the counter.”

“Thanks. You’re too good to me. As always. Love you.”

“I know. As always. Love you too.”

________

At the end of the week you’re up early, your pack and rations slung over your back, pistol on one hip, making your way to the stables while the town’s still quiet, before anyone can notice you going. Your boots crunch on the dirt road in lieu of the birdsong from those lazy bitches not even up yet, the dawnlight casting Jackson in blues and blacks, like a new-world mid-era Picasso.

The problem is, you know all of these blues and blacks, all these shapes and shadows. There’s a new one this morning, something leaning up against the stable door.

And it’s shaped like a fourteen year old girl with a couple of bags.

As you approach, Ellie tips away from the wall, standing upright, waiting until you come to a stop in front of her.

“Joel said I could go with you.”

“It’s a week early.”

“Yep.”

It’s too early in the morning for exasperated sighs, but here you are. “Maria or Tommy?”

“Tommy.”

“Figures. Big fucking mouth.”

“Yep.”

She waits patiently for it to sink in.

Once it does, you pull the walkie off your belt.

“Meadowlark to Chickadee. ETA 30, towing a Starling in behind me.”

________

“So what did you say to him to get him to change his mind?” Ellie takes your fishing rod so you can pull off your boots and roll up your pants.

“Me? I figured it was you said something.” Wading out into the stream at this little ripple point is harder than it looks. The rocks are sharper here, full of crannys that are equally as good for fish to hide in as they are to turn an ankle. It doesn’t help that the setting sun is throwing shadows that make it harder to determine what’s what. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks. Not since Bear’s wedding. Keep that line taut.”

“According to Maria, you haven’t talked to anyone lately.”

“I had knitting to do,” a dismissal as you follow the line out into the current. “There are hardly any weeds out here; what did this dang hook snag on? A rock?”

“Well, he finally admitted that masking the scar was a good thing. I told him I want to get a tattoo over it. He said no.”

You laugh, tugging at the line, teetering on a flatter stone. “Of course he did. But that’s a good thing. Tattoo’s a permanent mark. Good to have an excuse to think long and hard about what you’d want. Willa’s great with nature stuff. She could probably do you a bird or a tree or something.”

“I was thinking maybe the moon. Or like, a machete.”

“Of course you were. Oh, oh... hang on, I think I’ve found it.” Reaching down under one of the rocks, you follow the fishing line, but it doesn’t seem to have an end. “Well, where the hell?”

“Uhhhhh,” Ellie points to the water at your feet. “I think it found you.”

A fine red ribbon of blood floats away on the current and you follow it upstream to your foot. More specifically, the inner part of your big toe. “Well shit. Did I just catch my own damn self?”

“Catch of the day!” Ellie laughs. “I bet you fry up real tough. Does it hurt?”

“Didn’t even feel it, water’s too cold. Get your knife and cut the line so I don’t get all tangled.”

Once you’re back on shore and take stock, it’s obvious some tools are needed. “Run and get me the wire cutting pliers, the vinegar jug, and the first aid kit, will you?”

Ellie’s off like a shot on youthful legs, making short work of the errand while you keep your foot in the stream and tend to her line. But once she’s back and opens the kit, her face twists into a frown. “Aren’t there supposed to be bandages in here?”

“What?” Snipping the hook in two you slide it out the easy way as Ellie watches in morbid fascination. “There’s not?”

“Nope. Plenty of cleanser and some needle and thread, but no bandages.”

“Shit. I suppose we never restocked it after Willa set you up. Well, I’ll just have to bleed into my sock for the time being and find something up at the Roost.” Ellie moves to help you, but you hold a hand up and go for the walkie. “Hey. Meadowlark to Goldie.”

The walkie comes to life, garbled, full of noise.

“Goldie? Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

A couple of seconds pass. “Sorry, Goldfinch here. Was in the tavern and there’s an arm wrestling competition in there. Lots of yelling.”

“Really? Who’s winning?”

“Right now it’s Bear. What’s up?”

“Oh, I never restocked the first aid kit after Ellie’s mishap and we’re needing clean bandages. Can you send some along on patrol tomorrow?”

“Sure. Everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, I just stepped on a fishhook.”

“Well, why the hell did you do that?”

“You know, the usual. Shits and giggles.”

“You do you. Don’t ever change. I’ll send some supplies along.”

“Thanks. Put a wager down on Bear for me. Meadowlark out.”

“Will do. Goldfinch gone.”

“Alright, kid,” you groan, hanging onto her shoulder and pulling yourself up, “Bring in your line and let’s take what we got and get a supper going.”

________

The next day, you drop a few old carrots over the balcony railing. “Ellie! Take these with you! You’ll tame that skittish one sooner or later; keep trying!”

The girl scoops up the veggies and trudges out through the pasture, heavy not with the task of doing the rounds by herself but due to the heat. At least she can wear short sleeves now, even if the bandage gets questions. But you suspect she enjoys the clout and attention she gets out of the burn.

Thank goodness she’s here. Your injury gets angry when you walk. So Ellie's tasked with the rounds and taking stock while you elevate the foot and get caught up on some spinning.

Not that there’s any hurry to do so. As you lean on your arms against the balcony railing a little breeze kicks up. Content for the moment, you let it bring you a little coolness, a little movement, the rising and falling music of this year’s batch of cicadas. The meadow's pretty this summer, all purples and reds, festooned with lupine and Indian paintbrush and the air at the Roost smelling like the pines that grow around it.

“Patrol to Meadowlark.”

Damn. You left the walkie on the table inside. Guess the decision’s been made for you to get your ass moving. That’ll be a delivery coming in and you hobble on over to answer.

"Patrol here. You there, Meadowlark?"

“Sorry. Meadowlark here.”

“Sending Joel Miller in with supplies at the north gate.”

That’s…not what you expected. But…wow. Really? Has your heart stopped, or is it just going really fast?

“Put him on the walkie.”

Who cares what you’re heart’s doing, your face is gonna cramp from the smile.

“Hey. It’s me,” he answers, gentle, penitent.

“Me who.”

“Joel.”

So he's olive branching first. Well, he'll have to earn it.

“Yeah, about that, we have procedures around here. Callsign or bust, sir.”

You can almost hear his eyes rolling, but it sounds like he’s up for the challenge.

“Seriously.”

“Sure.”

“Jesus. This is…Grey Fox. Coming in at the north gate. Happy?”

“I will be. Meadowlark out.”

Tottering gingerly back out to the balcony, you land heavily on the old green broke-down sofa. There’s no need to bring the rifle. Even if he was being pursued by a pack of raging clickers, Joel is certain to carry a gun, and certain to use it confidently.

A few slow minutes tick by in the sun and a cicada buzzes in from nowhere to attach itself to one of the balcony supports. The big bug breathes for a minute, its iridescent wings still twitching with the effort of hoisting that bulky little body.

And then, in your eyeline just past the cicada, there’s movement.

Joel coming out of the north woods.

He’s on foot. Green plaid and jeans wading through the flowered fields. With his shirtsleeves rolled up on purpose to let those brown arms and big hands of his swing. With not just the one, but two rifles on his back? Isn’t that a bit overkill?

Wait. One of them’s not a rifle. It’s…a guitar.

Well. Someone’s planned to make himself at home.

Your smile earns more real estate.

Good.

Soon he’s close enough for you to make out his grey curls shifting in the breeze. Then he disappears under the Roost, only to transform into the sound of heavy footfalls on the ladder.

Propping your chin on your forearms crossed over the back of the sofa, you watch through the front windows as he steps into the room and takes it in with a carpenter’s eye. He stops in silent appreciation, gaze scrolling the woodwork, the joints, posts, slope of the peak. The woodstove catches his notice and he taps the tile beneath it with his boot, his interest trailing up the pipe, squinting at the trap around the exhaust. His bottom lip pushes up in approval and he nods, surveying the windows now…and stops when he sees you.

“Hey there, Cinnamon Roll. Welcome to the Roost.”

A half-hidden smile. Without a word, he untangles himself out of his gear, digging through his knapsack and retrieving a box before coming out onto the balcony and making his way over to you. Swiping a hand through the air, he motions for you to move your knee so he can sit beside you, then pulls your foot up into his lap and takes a look over your makeshift bandage–the sleeve of an old blouse–before starting to unwrap it.

It hurts. But you let him.

"Who told you I needed a first aid kit?"

"Was at the tavern when Goldie got the call. Heard it myself. Where’s Ellie?”

“She’s making the rounds. Just left before you came in."

He grunts an acknowledgement, focusing on your toe, moving it so he can assess the wound a little better. A little wince; he can tell it hurts. Grabbing a tiny bottle of cleansing agent and a fresh bandage, he gets to work.

“Just so you know,” he grumbles, “we don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around. You shouldn’t let this stuff fester.”

He must see your smirk from the corner of his eye. He matches it with his own.

“You using my words against me now, Dr. Miller?”

“Not at all. Just passing on some valuable knowledge that was gifted to me.”

He works quietly, carefully wrapping the toe, then your foot, splinting it in a way that should make it easier to walk on. Obviously not the first time he’s cared for a wound. He must have seen a lot out there in his wilder days.

“This one was truly an accident. For real this time,” you attest.

But his smile burns off to the stone underneath.

His sincerity precedes him. “I’m sorry.”

An apology. From Joel Miller. For what? Not trusting you? Keeping Ellie away? Speaking to you the way he did? You assume it’s all of the above. But it isn’t necessary to ask for clarification; you only want to put the missteps behind you and get on with leaning on each other.

“You’re staying, right?”

He nods once to you, then to the sofa. “This where I’m sleeping?”

“I mean, if you want one of our beds, that’s fine, you’ll just have to fight us for it. In which case, you might as well give up now.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be like sleeping under the stars.” He stares out at the mountains over the meadow, watching the shadow of a cloud roll over it, your foot warm between his hands, a thumb absently rubbing at the bandage. “This is nice out here. Quiet. I’m not used to it. But it’s good.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit I do better with some wide open spaces. And fewer people to share it with.”

Two lines form above the bridge of his nose. “Ellie told me about your ranch. Your family. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth being sorry.”

He's got you there. “Everyone’s lost something. Someone. Several someones. The whole world’s a little sorry. But I appreciate it. It means we’re all in it together, those of us left." You make a study of him, his solemn nod, the way the sun glints off his watch. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Joel. It’ll be nice having you here, being out here together.”

And then he turns to you, making his own study of you, as if watching your clouds roll away too.

“I agree.”

________

“Now, the E7 is the same as the E, you just pick up that third finger. Good. Now let’s do a three-four, E7, A, E.”

As the sun starts to set, your eyes have had enough of the spindle for one day and you’re cleaning up while Joel and Ellie muck around with his guitar out on the balcony. She’s a quick study, even if some of the chords are more difficult than others for her small hands, and it’s obvious he’s been working with her on it for a while.

Using a walking stick that Joel made from a pine branch–stripping the bark and wrapping one end with duct tape for a sliverless handle–you put together a little plate of berries and cheese, sling a thermos full of sun tea under your arm, and head out to the balcony.

“That's it. Thumb, wrist, wrist,” Joel coaches Ellie in a waltz strum as you hand off the treats to him and take a spot at the railing for one last survey of the meadow before the twilight goes. “That’s good. Keep that up, just like that. Hey there, songbird,” he drawls at you, “you know any Hank Williams?”

Rather than turn to him with a smile, you give it to the meadow, but let him hear it in your voice. “Do I? My dad grew up in Montana in the 50s and 60s. What do you think I was raised on?”

“Well go on then. You should know this one.”

Now that you’re truly listening and realize the chords he’s been working her through, you certainly do.

Ellie must have told him how you like to sing out here. So you do.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Joel encourages Ellie to keep going, and to add a B7 in at the end. “Go on,” he prompts to you when you turn around, smiling blithely as his two girls make him a pretty song to listen to.

“I've never seen a night so long When time goes crawling by. The moon just went behind the clouds To hide its face and cry.

“Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live; I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

“The next verse is the last one, so play her out on some single rising notes and hit the final chord.”

Ellie bites her bottom lip and nods, taking the cue, but she doesn’t need to look at her hands anymore as she’s getting the hang of it, and instead smiles as you take on her favorite subject.

“The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky, And as I wonder where you are… I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Her outro could use a little work, but it suffices and you give her due applause. “How are those fingers doing?”

She takes stock of her hands. “Look. Calluses.”

“You’ve got some work to do before you can call those welts calluses,” Joel teases.

“Well, I think she’s earned a treat. I didn’t bring those out here for you to hoard ‘em.”

Ellie balances the guitar against the arm rest and Joel hands over the plate, stealing a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Bringing her feet up, Ellie rests the plate on her knees and settles against Joel’s shoulder, smiling, content, proud of her progress, eating her reward and watching the night come on.

It’s such an intimate father-daughter scene that you’re about to go indoors and let them enjoy the view together. But then Joel moves his foot slightly as if to block your path. Catches your eye. Drapes his free arm over the back of the sofa and glances pointedly at his free shoulder, then back at you with a jerk of his head as if to say, You too, get in here, this one’s yours.

You do not have to be told twice.

Settling in with a long sigh, you don’t pay much attention as Ellie starts recounting everything she knows and doesn’t know about the first moon landing. You’re more interested in the way your cheek fits into Joel’s shoulder, and how his arm lays heavy and warm over yours, how his chest rumbles when he answers Ellie’s questions and laughs at her sass. How the shadows spill over the butte and pull through everything until they are everything.

And you notice how the moonlight reflects off the plate in Ellie’s hand, off the tuning keys of the guitar…and yet…it’s missing in one place it should be.

Joel’s wrists are bare.

Joel is laughing. And his wrists are bare.

________

Picking up his watch where it’s been living on the little table all week, you pack it into Joel’s knapsack on the last morning before heading out.

“Goldie’ll be here soon. You see Joel come back from the rounds yet?”

Ellie shakes her head as she’s packing her bag. “Nope. Went out an hour or two ago. You want me to go get him?”

Taking his bag and your own to the balcony, you throw them over the side to the forest floor below. “I’ll go. Been on my ass all week. I could use the walk.” You hand her the walkie on the way out, trusting her to take the incoming hail.

Fastest way to find someone on rounds is to walk the opposite direction, so you head south to the stream.

You don’t have to go far.

A group of sheep have gathered in the grass halfway between the Roost and the water, lazing peacefully as if gathered for a little tea party, and you can guess what they’re all discussing.

There, in the middle of their protective huddle, is the man you’ve been waiting for all this time; shoes off, one arm slung above his head, asleep in the sun and the warm, fragrant grass, as if he grabbed your description of the meadow and ran with it, needing the nap of a lifetime.

At first you keep your distance, not wanting to startle him. But then you realize that it might take more than your approach and a couple soft bleats from a lamb to wake him.

Especially with his good ear turned to the ground like that.

Safe. Warm. Content.

Goldie will be coming soon, but you’ll be able to see her from here. No need to wake him yet.

There’s time enough to just sit and shade his face from the sun, watch the steady rise and fall of his hand on his belly, and whisper a little prayer of thanks to the earth and wind and sky–hell, even to the sheep–that Joel and Ellie found their way to Jackson.

And that you found your way to them.

Good. Everyone's got a good reason to keep going then.

________

Lyrics from "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams

PREVIOUS: SPRING

NEXT: AUTUMN

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

(artwork by @stealyourblorbos)

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama Psycho Noah AU, what if Sierra (who knew everything about everybody) tried to warn Heather + Alejandro NOT to mess with Noah, cause he's a total psychopath (but they don't believe her) ... Sierra doesn't have to worry about Cody getting hurt, cause he's a sweet boy, and Noah only hurts people that attack him first... What if after Heather + Alejandro later learns the truth, Sierra simply tells the duo: "I told you so..." 😒

You're so right about Sierra being one of the few who's In The Know about p!Noah (without his express input), thanks to her superfan status.

Sierra throws a bit of a wrench into this whole AU, really. Because there'd need to be justification for her either not saying anything about Noah's true colours, or having the others not believe her claims about Noah despite it being abundantly clear that her knowledge on them is pretty infallible.

But.

Playing in to the whole 'obsessive superfan' thing, Sierra wouldn't want to jeopardise the ruse Noah's so carefully crafted if he were, say, one of her favourite characters.

Because Noah (every version of Noah) is a fairly private person, all things considered. She doesn't have a lot of information to go off of- not in comparison to the fountain of knowledge she has about the rest of the cast, at least- but she does know that he must be keeping his true colours a secret for a reason. Would you want to ruin someone's carefully laid web of deception when it's been one of the most entertaining aspects of the show thus far?

Or.

You could take it down another route, and have Sierra outright dislike Noah because he's A Danger to her beloved cast, but have this dislike become evident before she can warn the others; Sierra's pretty crazy herself, so the cast would dismiss her warnings are her trying to rally them against the person she so clearly hates instead of a genuine effort to keep them safe. After all, wouldn't it be in character for someone as evidently unstable as Sierra to lie and spread 'baseless rumours' about the person she clearly despises?

(That second option's fun, because it adds an aspect of dramatic irony for the audience both in-universe and IRL; they/we know that Sierra's right, so her struggle to be listened to would be almost Cassandra-esque.)

Either way, she'd make a point of staying as far away as possible from Noah. Because Sierra (like the rest of the in-universe audience) are working under the impression that Noah's a ticking time-bomb, a constant threat of incredible violence against the cast, since that's exactly what Noah painted himself as during his confessionals. (Speaking of confessionals, I do have a justification as to why the contestants eliminated before Noah are also unaware of his unhingedness, that I'll cover in it's own post.) That's not entirely true, of course; Noah's a psychopath with a grimdark sense of humour, sure, but he's not about to start randomly attacking people in bouts of spontaneous hysteria- but the audience, and therefore Sierra, don't have the comfort of that little tidbit of information.

It all circles back to Noah being a private person. He holds his cards close to his chest; in this case, the audience knows what he's capable of, but they don't know that a lot of his Baby Craves Violence act is just that- an act. A joke he's pulling on the viewing world, that he admittedly gets a little too into to. The perils of being dedicated to the bit. Not that he doesn't have the occasional urge to commit felonies and acts of brutality against others, but he's got enough self-control to redirect that energy into causing less destructive chaos (most of the time).

-

So when his true colours are eventually revealed? Sierra is so vindicated, she almost forgets the danger (she thinks) she's in. Almost.

(In the context of the second option;) She's spent the majority of the season thus far warning the others against Noah, only to have her good intentions brushed aside time and time again (which, ouch! Imagine trying to help the people you idolise enough to literally stalk throw your concern for their safety back in your face) by their incredulity. Being proven to have been in the right the entire time would be a power trip and a half, because it'd validate her skills as the unofficial-official expert on all things Total Drama and she'd get to shove the consistent rebuffs back in the others' faces.

It's a shame she'd be so dead-set on disliking Noah on principle, because the two of them could be great friends. If Sierra had a stronger craving for chaos and disorder, she could form a Terror Trio with Noah and Izzy.

[jordanrosenburg]

Abbott Elementary - The Savior of Sitcoms

When Abbott Elementary aired midseason in December of 2021, I don’t think any of us were ready. I had first heard about the show from Quinta Brunson’s TikTok. I’ve been following her since she worked for Buzzfeed, having made very funny and true digital shorts about what it’s like to be a woman, specifically a short woman. So, from time to time I liked to check in on her and see what she was up to. She was announcing her book, She Memes Well, and she briefly mentioned she was working on a pilot.

Quinta is a triple threat to the world of Abbott - she’s the head writer, executive producer, and lead actress. Her being a woman and doing all of these things is already incredible, but seeing a woman of color shine like this is truly inspirational, and quite honestly...it’s about damn time. Quinta was awarded the very well deserved Emmy for OUTSTANDING COMEDY WRITER. A young (she’s 32, that’s young) woman of color won an award for comedy writing. I cried tears of joy during her acceptance speech. As a woman, we’re basically told our whole lives that female comedians aren’t funny, so this was major for a multitude of reasons.

The cast of Abbott is comprised with some familiar face: Lisa Ann Walter, who many folks of my generation know as Chessy from The Parent Trap, Tyler James Williams of Everybody Hates Chris fame, Sheryl Lee Ralph, who many of us remember as Dee Mitchell from Moesha, and William Sanford Davis who is no stranger to the sitcom world. We also have Janelle James, a comedian who I had honestly never heard of, but is truly hilarious, and Chris Perfetti, another new face to me, but has quickly stolen my heart as his character Jacob.

The first season starts off during the spring semester of the school year. Janine, played by Quinta, is a semi-new teacher who wants to be the absolute best for her students. She’s young, ambitious, high-spirited, and is often annoying her colleagues.

Seasoned professional Barbara Howard, who happened to be Janine’s teacher back in the day, is probably the person annoyed by Janine the most. But only because Janine’s high energy and new teaching styles don’t jive with what Barbara’s used to. Throughout the season, Barbara ends up leaning on Janine a bit more, and starts to see her value as a teacher. Especially when it comes to using new technology that Barbara isn’t exactly savvy with.

Jacob is a corny, happy-go-lucky social studies teacher. He’s the closest with Janine. Jacob is the quintessential cis-white guy who is often a little too “woke” for his own good. But he means well, and even though his students refer to him as “Mr. C.” because he’s so corny, they love him as their teacher. He also has a very loving relationship with his boyfriend, which I enjoyed seeing represented.

Melissa is a fast fan favorite. Having grown up in Jersey, she brings a very real character to the table. She’s a math teacher, and a damn good one at that. Another seasoned professional, who is close with Barbara, but also plays by a lot of her own rules. If something needs to get done, she knows someone who knows someone who knows someone, but you didn’t hear it from her.

Gregory is new to the elementary school. He starts off as a substitute teacher. He was originally supposed to be the principal of Abbott, he was offered the job after going to school for it! But alas, the job was given to someone else - Ava Coleman. Ava has literally no teaching background of any kind. So how did she get the job?

Ava is often flirting with Gregory, making some very crude remarks. She uses the budget inappropriately for her own vanity, and only sometimes actually does her job. She and Janine tend to have many disagreements, but Janine is a passive person, so she’s usually coming up with some over the top idea to make a change instead of just simply discussing the issue with Ava. Not that Ava ever really listens, so it almost forces Janine to do something crazy.

And Mr. Johnson, our beloved custodian, is always there with a smart remark, often that extra comic relief we need to break the tension during some of the more serious scenes.

The show is a mockumentary style sitcom, similar to The Office, or Parks and Rec. The interviews the characters give aren’t as formal as they were on The Office. Most of the time when they’re talking directly to the camera, they’re in the hallway between classes. This style can be hard to pull off, especially when so many other sitcoms have done it, like Modern Family, for example. But Abbott does it flawlessly.

Like many of my favorite shows, we have a slow burn occurring between two main characters: Gregory and Janine. Gregory makes it pretty obvious, to the cameras, that he likes Janine right away.

In fact, part of the reason he takes the open position to become a full-time teacher and not a substitute, by the end of the school year is so he can still be around Janine. Nothing can be too easy, though. We learn early on that Janine has a long-time boyfriend, Tariq. Tariq is basically a deadbeat, going from one dead-end job to the next, leaving Janine to constantly pick up the slack. But they’ve been together for well over ten years, so she’s not exactly looking to start anew.

However, by the end of the first season, Janine does end things with Tariq. And it’s not because she’s in love with Gregory. As much as we want them to be Jim and Pam, they’re not. Janine breaks up with Tariq because she realizes she’s simply outgrown him, and it’s not healthy for either of them to stay in their relationship. It’s not easy for her to come to terms with this, we see that at the beginning of season two as she pretends to be fine with the breakup. Throughout the first season, Janine evolves quite a bit. She’s much more confident as a teacher going into the fall semester. She’s more sure of herself and her capabilities.

The show is heartwarming at its core. Yes, it’s extremely laugh out loud funny. (Which is a big deal because a show rarely makes me audibly laugh, so the fact that I’ve laughed so hard I’ve nearly cried?? Yeah, this is a well written show.) All of the main characters go through a sort of “after school special” moment that helps them grow and become better. I think my favorite person’s journey is Gregory’s. He was obviously bitter about not getting the principal position. He’s also just a very odd duck. He likes order and rigidity. He only eats plain, boiled chicken between two slices of white bread. (He doesn’t like when different foods mix together. When he admitted he didn’t like pizza, it was a whole thing. Jacob was the most offended, especially when Gregory also told them he didn’t pie.)

Gregory doesn’t get goofy or silly with his students, he prefers order. But he slowly starts to realize that if he’s going to actually have a good command over his classroom, then he’ll need to let loose a little.

We’re three episodes in to the second season, and it’s already holding up to the groundbreaking first. This isn’t always easy to do. Sometimes when a show has such an incredibly good first season, the second season can feel lackluster. But not Abbott Elementary. Less than a minute into the first episode, I was already laughing hysterically. Janine was discussing her breakup, so we cut to a scene showing Tariq packing up his friend’s car, and them both driving away. Tariq had a shining smile on his face as he danced in the passenger seat while ‘Snap Yo Fingers” by Lil Jon blasted through the speakers.

The main cast are back to their old antics: finding ways to keep the students interested, doing their best to keep the school from crumbling, and just getting through each day one step at a time. The teachers lean on one another for so many things, and I don’t think that’s something we’ve seen in a show with a school setting before. Most sitcoms that take place in school are usually about the students, not the teachers. And if it is about the teachers, it’s usually very serious. We’re getting a real and unique perspective about what teachers have to deal with at a semi-underprivileged school. Second and third grade classes get lumped together, the textbooks are nowhere near new, and the grant money Janine won for new supplies had to go towards getting rid of a rat infestation in the cafeteria.

Not that it’s all about Janine and Gregory and their slow burn, but if we’ve learned anything from watching Jim and Pam (The Office), or Jake and Amy (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), or Ben and Lesley (Parks and Rec), or even Jonah and Amy (Superstore), these two will not be confessing feelings any time soon. And if they do, they won’t be getting together as an official couple until at least the end of the third season, as many of the couples listed previously did. I’m really excited to see how it all plays out. I know it’s going to be good.

In my opinion, we haven’t had a truly good sitcom in quite some time. Many of our favorites have long since ended. Sometimes when I see the current ones, the ones that are on cable networks like ABC, CBS, and NBC, I find myself asking, “How is this still on the air?”. One of the last good ones standing, again in my opinion, was Brooklyn Nine-Nine, which ended in 2021 after eight seasons. Modern Family ended in 2020, but despite the few really funny clips I’ve seen from that show, I never got into it to watch regularly. Just because a family is blended and a little unconventional, doesn’t mean it’s modern. Who was it modern to? The upper-middle class? The same goes for Black-ish, which ended last spring. That was another show I tried to get into, but just couldn’t. To me, it was just another show about an upper-class family. Yes, the cast was diverse and had good representation, but not everyone lives like that family did. Other honorable mentions are: The Good Place (2016-2020), Schitt’s Creek (2015-2020), and Superstore (2015-2021). Many of these beloved shows have all ended within the last three years. And what are we left with? The Goldbergs? Young Sheldon? Grown-ish? Hard pass. If you like those shows, no shade, they’re just not my cup of tea.

And even though we have shows on paid streaming services like Ted Lasso (a must watch if you’re able), that’s not a program that’s easily accessible to everyone. I’m hoping Abbott sparks inspiration for more warm-hearted comedies. It’s a show that’s fun for adults, but it’s something you can still watch as a family if you so choose. Having someone like Quinta as a writer is truly the key to its success. The show is funny, relatable, sometimes gut-wrenching, and something I look forward to watching every week. 

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Fixing & Empathy

This is a long one- and of course, I'm talking about the table scene. But it's such a great example here.

How Carmy connects with Syd and Claire shows the difference between Empathy and Fixing. Fixing is our instinct when our partner is in feelings of discomfort; we sympathize and try to see the silver lining for this person; we want to solve their problems instead of sitting in pain with our partner. Empathy, you're showing someone you care and understand; it's finding something within you to connect to the other person. This is the art of vulnerability.

Fixing

Claire: When we were, like, six, she, uh, fell off a fence and broke her arm, and it scared the sh¡t out of everybody? Except me, I just, like, sat there and stared at her arm.

Carmy: 'Cause you wanted to fix it?

Claire: I wanted to understand it.

Carmy: Right.

This has become my favorite interaction of the Claire & Carmy storyline. It's the summary of their relationship, a foreshadowing, if you will.

If I fill in the blanks, she is a fixer, at least in romantic relationships. I know Molly said with Carmy it's the first time Claire has stood up for herself. Maybe that's what she means: Claire wants to fix her partners; she's an enabler, as @moodyeucalyptus said. Enabling is when someone else will always fix, solve, or make the consequences disappear, and I noticed this dynamic in 2x08.

2x08: She listens to his problems and reminds him that everything is fine the night after his panic attack. When Claire asks Carmy what he's thinking about. He can't be honest that he's still thinking about the suppression test because she will attempt to fix it. He does not trust her with his feelings of discomfort. The fixing Claire does is futile support.

The way she attempts to fix Carmy, we hear through Carmy himself. A panic attack about his family gatherings - Claire's solution is finding a new meaning, making the cannolis your own. chaos menu? Could you try making it something you care about?

Can she truly understand and connect with what he's feeling? Carmy not defining their relationship could mean the lack of a bond on Carmy's part.

Part of the solution to Carmy's dilemmas on the show lies in connecting - moving out of the constant state of isolation.

Connection improves Carmy; when he initiates contact, he becomes a better version of himself. He stops screaming, gets out of his head, and can provide for others and inspire them.

All the above matches what he does for Tina, Richie, Marcus, Ebrahim, and most of all, Sydney.

It's like what Luca says in 2x04- being inspired by someone, bettering ourselves because of the person next to us- and really getting out there in the world means opening ourselves up to other people, which is what Carmy and Syd do for each other- they use empathy as a source of bonding.

Blocking was talked about for their scenes before, how one always initiates closeness- Carmy usually does that, especially in season 2. That need for contact - touching Syd on her back and shoulders - shows Carmy's longing for closeness with Sydney.

Before I get to empathy, Here's the thing: I know people hate to say that Carmy relies on Sydney or that she's his peace argument, but this does not mean Sydney actively tries to fix Carmy. Just Sydney's presence ignites change in him; just by her honesty, he's willing to try and be there for someone and get out of that place where he's hiding within himself. Sometimes, it's forgotten that social isolation can impact our mental health, and bonding with others can make positive changes.

Empathy

"...empathy is kind of this sacred space. When someone's kind of in a deep hole, and they shout out from the bottom, and they say hey it's dark, I'm overwhelmed, and then we look, and we say, "Hey," we come down."I know what it's like down here, and you're not alone."

-Brene Brown

I talked about the table scene fifty-eleven times. It makes a great example of the connection Carmy feels to Sydney.

When we're with people - our person - they make us want to be better. We don't fear a future; we expect a future with this person. There's this knowing Carmy has about Sydney; he knows whatever this relationship is, they'll work on it.

Carmy & Sydney show us the correct way to deal with your partner's feelings is empathy- listening to one another, instead of correcting emotions- you get in the hole- or table with them and express your own fears. He leaves space for Sydney to share her concerns and doesn't try to correct those feelings. He affirms and tells her he's right there with her (I fuck things up all the time), and he's honest- the without-you dialogue isn't just to make her feel better. It's his own moment of vulnerability.

When Carmy says I won't let you, I think he will hold his side and make it easier so they can fix themselves. All while empathizing with each other during their partnership.

Writing this makes the scene of the walk-in even more heartbreaking. Carmy was in the dark hole- calling for Sydney to bond with him; they couldn't help each other :(.

This is why I can't blame Carmy for screaming at Richie; he sort of begged Richie for empathy, but Richie judged him- causing panic at that moment and more isolation.

Though the end of season two was heartbreaking, I have faith we'll get more intimate, empathetic scenes despite the fall in season two.

This is a roundabout way to say- whether they end up together romantically or not (they will i just say this for the sycarmy doubters), Carmy pretty much confirms his bond with Sydney is unlike any other he's experienced, and no one can replace what he feels for her- even if someone is sitting at their table.

SIDEBAR: Read this insightful post by @bioloyg about Carmy fixing himself.

I've referenced Brene Brown's Empathy Vs. Sympathy

[holdmytesseract]

Frozen Hearts?

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Request: "Hi um..this is my first time asking and I don't know if your taking requests but I was wondering if you could do a Daryl and the reader get into a heated argument about how the reader went missing for a couple of days while on a run and Daryl goes after them but can't find them so he thinks that the same thing happened to them like the same thing happened to Sophia (if that makes any sense?) And after a couple days after Daryl lits a building on fire for some reason? And reader comes stumbling out of the building and Daryl sees that and the listener is just trying to get away from the fire and Daryl just grabs them and drags them away. Then he throws them on the ground and starts to yell at them and the listener starts to yell back and you could choose the rest :D Thank you!! ^^" - Requested by a nonny! 😄

Summary: You get lost on a run, due to a herd of walkers overrunning the small town you and your group went to. Daryl spends days outside, searching for you. When he does find you, it comes to a heated argument…

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff - walkers, fire, injuries, angst, fluff

Set in Season 9!

Word Count: 2,9k

a/n: Ahhhh, I love thiiis! Hope you like it as well, nonny! 🥰 Thanks for requesting! 😁

Quick note: I know, it's unlikely for wood to burn, when there's snow outside and so on, but ahhh, it just fit so well... Sorry, I hope you guys don't mind!

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl (Tell me, if I should stop tagging you in my Daryl fics, boo! I promise, I won't be mad! x) @in-this-minute @thefemininemystiquee @hotgirlsshareaccounts @azanoni

If you want to be added to my Daryl taglist, please let me know! 😊

MASTERLIST

The wind howled around the houses of Alexandria. It was going to be a few hard months, everyone could tell. There wasn't much time left before the start of the winter. About one or two weeks - according to Eugene. So, the goal was to get as much supplies as somehow possible, in order to get everyone through those cold months ahead. Everybody helped as best as possible - including you. Together with a few other citizens from Alexandria, you went on a run to gather some more medical stuff. There was a small town - about a day ride away from the community. Daryl had found it on a hunt a few weeks ago. The town was in the forest, rather hidden, so you hoped it was most widely untouched.

Leading a group of three people, you made your way to the said town in the planned time slot. It took you almost exactly 24 hours. Together, you had searched for a safe place to stay the night. Everything went smoothly. Even the break in of the abandoned doctor's office. But once you all had made it out alive and well, everything went south on a sudden. Seemingly out of nowhere, a big herd of walkers - probably about 30 or 40 literally overran the town. There were too many of them and too less of you to fight them off, and in between all the panic and trouble, you got separated from the group...

Daryl didn't come often to Alexandria these days. He spent the most time out in the woods, still searching for Rick and trying to somehow get over his grief. It wasn't that easy, though. Alexandria just reminded him even more of his lost brother, so he didn't turn up a lot. But when he paid the community a visit, then because of one reason... You. You two knew each other since the prison and grew incredibly close over the time and all the shitty, horrible things you experienced together with your family.

This time he walked through the steel gates of Alexandria, it was the same reason as always... You.

The archer greeted everyone he saw on his way, until he reached your small, cosy house. Just as he wanted to knock at the door, his actions got interrupted by a voice behind him. "She isn't here, Daryl." Michonne. Word had spread fast, that the archer was back in the community. He spun around to face his friend. "What ya mean, she ain't here?" Michonne took a deep breath and stepped closer, pulling the winter coat she wore ever tighter. It was freezing. "Y/N went out on a run three days ago. Things went south. A large herd of walkers overran the small town you found and-" Daryl felt how his heart beat increased, pumping more blood through his veins. "She dead?" He asked dryly, tears already starting to build up in his eyes. Daryl lost his brother... He couldn't lose you, too. But to his sheer relief, shook Michonne her head. "No... Just missing. We hope she isn't dead, but... We don't know. Two people of her group came back and told us." "Did you search for 'er?" The leader of Alexandria squeezed her eyes shut and began to slowly shake her head. "We wanted, but like you see, it already started to snow. Eugene's weather forecast wasn't exactly correct. A snow storm is coming - and we both know it'd be too dangerous to go out there now. I'm sorry." Daryl clenched his teeth, felt how anger started to flood his system. Snow storm or not. It was no excuse to just leave you out there alone with dozens of walkers and other threats. "For you." Daryl simply said, before he rushed past Michonne. "Daryl! You can't go out there now! Especially not alone!" He adjusted his poncho and tapped the side of his right thigh to let Dog know he should follow him - which the dog immediately did out course. "You can't stop me! I ain't sittin' here around 'n lettin' Y/N out there alone, jus' because of a little bit snow." Michonne tried to argue with the archer, but it was no use of course. Daryl didn't listen to another word his friend said, slung his crossbow back over his shoulder and marched straight for the gates. "Come on, Dog." Dog barked at the call of his name and quickly followed his master. Michonne followed the pair as well, still trying to stop her friend. "Daryl!" He didn't listen, of course. Once Daryl Dixon was determined to do something, there was no stopping him. Before the leader of Alexandria was able to catch up with the archer, the heavy metal doors got already closed shut behind him.

Daryl searched for you. Day after day after day. His first destination had been of course the small town you went to on the run. There had been still quite a few walkers - some of them on the verge of freezing to the ground. Daryl quickly got rid of them and searched together with Dog every nook and cranny of the town. "Y/N?!" The small school. Empty. "Y/N?!" The doctor's office. Empty. "Y/N?!" The supermarket. Empty. He searched everywhere, even at the gas station, but he found nothing besides a few other walkers. Usually, the archer had no problem in finding people. He was a tracker, it was his forte, but the horrible weather conditions and the constant snow fall made the situation worse. Together with the constant wind, erasing all traces, it was almost impossible. But Daryl wouldn't be Daryl, if he gave up just yet, so he continued to look for you for another few days, scoured the area around the town for you - but it was no use. He just couldn't find you. It bothered Daryl. More than he was ready to admit. The fact that you were still missing unlocked something deep inside him. Not just fear, no... Awful flashbacks from the beginning. The dreadful day little Sophia went missing. How he and the others - but especially he searched for days - almost weeks, but couldn't find her. He couldn't find the girl. Daryl failed. And because of that, they lost Sophia. The archer would never forget the moment she walked out of that damn barn, hissing and snarling - turned into a walker. He would never forget how Carol broke down, crying. Or how Rick shot her in the head in front of everybody. What if history was repeating itself? What if that was exactly what happened to you as well? Gods, he could never forgive himself if that was the case. Daryl just had to find you.

Another day passed. Over a week and you were still missing. The only good thing was, that the harsh snow storm had stopped. Now it was just bitterly cold outside. Daryl's plan of searching led him even further away from Alexandria.

He and Dog had everything under control, scoured profoundly the area - until the archer found himself in a very unpleasant situation... A large herd of walkers surprised him, caused him and Dog to run for their lives. The archer didn't know how this could happen. They just came out of nowhere. While he tried to get away from the hungry, snarling threat behind him, he tried to think of a plan to get rid of them. Fate seemed to be good to him for once. A small, wooden hut came in sight, as he quickly walked - running was for a longer period not possible, due to the snow. Panting, he searched in his pockets for matchsticks. This could work, he thought. No... It had to work. Fighting them was no option. Taking on twenty plus walkers alone could be difficult. And he couldn't run away forever as well. It would drain his energy - and he hadn't exactly that much left anyways. Setting this hut on fire was probably his only chance. Daryl just hoped, that the wood wasn't too wet from the snow. He had to try it, hadn't he? So, he marched as fast as possible up to the hut.

 After a few desperate tries of getting the old wood to burn and the threatening snarling coming closer and closer, he finally made it. The wood caught fire. Daryl rounded the small hut to bring himself and Dog into safety, watching the fire spreading quickly. Soon, it would go up in flames. Daryl was relieved that his plan worked out - until he saw the back door of the hut bursting open. Someone stumbled out of the hut, coughing. The archer narrowed his eyes, only to recognise that it was... His eyes immediately widened again. You... It was you! Daryl literally jumped up from his hiding spot, "Stay, Dog." and ran over to you. "Y/N!"

You were still coughing heavily as you tried to get away from the fire. You tried to run, but it was impossible, like the searing pain in your leg reminded you immediately. A painful hiss escaped your lips. You looked down, examined the gaping wound on your thigh again. It was bleeding - again. You somehow made it to slice open your thigh as you tried to escape from the walkers, back in that small town. "Y/N!" You lifted immediately your head at the call of your name - and saw a figure running towards you. You couldn't believe your eyes. Was this...? Could it be? "Daryl?!" You cried out, hissing in pain again. He reached you a few moments later, holding onto your shoulders. "Y/N?! Are ya alright?" You nodded with tears in your eyes. Gods, you were so happy to see him. "Y-Yeah, just... Hurt my leg..." Daryl quickly gazed down to take a look at the wound, but got distracted by the herd of walkers getting closer and closer, reminding him of the threat, which was on its way to the burning hut. "C'mon. We gotta get away from 'ere." The archer wrapped your arm around his shoulder and his arm around your waist to steady you and help you walk.

Of course, was Daryl happy that he had found you, but the bottled up feelings and fears of losing you just like he lost Sophia, caused his blood to boil. It was only a matter of time, until he was going to burst - something you couldn't know. Once he had brought you into safety, he let go of you - literally pushing you away from him, his feelings taking over and resulting in you, stumbling backwards and falling to the snowy ground, because of your injured leg. "Daryl, what-" You wanted to ask, but he didn't let you. "Goddamnit, Y/N! What were ya thinkin'?!" He yelled. You looked up at him confused. What was that now about? You questioned yourself. Why was he suddenly yelling? The sudden off behaviour of your friend turned your mood sour as well. "What the hell, Daryl? Why are you yelling at me? What's your problem?" Daryl scoffed. "What my problem is?!" He looked around, as if trying to somehow compose himself - without success. "You are my problem, woman! Why did ya go on that damn run, alone?!" Now it was your time to scoff. "I wasn't alone! I had a team!" "Ya call those three Savior pricks a team? For god's sake, Y/N... That ain't a team! They left ya alone out there, saved their own asses and went back to Alexandria! Why didn't you take Aaron with ya? Or Rosita? Or me?" You swallowed hard at his words. Did they really do that? Did they really give up on you? "Ya could've died! Bit or eaten by a walker - or worse! What if the Whisperers would've found ya?! Ya could've been killed!" "Right, Dixon! Could have! But I didn't!" You stood up from the cold ground. Your leg protested against this, but you didn't care, ignored the pain and just clenched your jaw. "I can look after myself!" You turned on your heels, ready to walk away. "I don't need a watchdog - and I certainly don't need you!" Ouch. Those words cut deep. It was an invisible punch to the gut. Daryl was like petrified for a moment, as he watched you hobble away, further into the woods. He didn't know, that you regretted the thing you said immediately, but you were too angry to take it back. The archer swallowed hard, now angry at himself for letting his bottled-up feelings take over. Did you really mean that? You didn't need him? This heated argument made Daryl realise two things. One: He cared about you - a lot. And two: No matter if you didn't need him. He needed you.

Afraid, that he might have lost you for real now, he quickly ran after you, with Dog close behind. "Y/N! Y/N! Wait!" You heard him calling for you, but didn't even think about stopping. "Please!" But Daryl was quicker on foot than you were and not injured, so he quickly caught up on you. "Y/N, please! 'M sorry!" He gently grabbed your arm to turn you around. "Oh now you're sorry?!" You yelled at him. "You almost killed me by burning this damn hut down and then you just yelled at me without a reason and now you're sorry?!" Daryl hung his head, long, brown strands of his curls falling into his face. "'M sorry..." He repeated, causing you to just scoff, before you turned around and began to walk away once again. That was the moment Daryl realised, that it was probably time to open up to you. To let the true feelings speak. Not his anger.

"I-I jus' yelled at ya, 'cause..." He sighed. "'Cause I was worried sick. Was almost shittin' myself when Michonne told me that ya didn't come back from the run... That the others lost ya... I went out, searchin' for ya, day after day. I was so afraid of losin' ya... So afraid of failin' to find ya - jus' like I failed finding Sophia." You stopped abruptly in your tracks at his words and felt your heart aching at his words. "I yelled at ya, 'cause I care 'bout ya, Y/N... A lot... I couldn't stand losin' ya. I-I need ya. Dunno what to do with myself if ya would be dead." You expected a lot for him to say - but certainly not that. His words literally left you breathless, as he opened up his heart for you.

Without hesitation, you turned to face him, smiling softly. "Daryl Dixon..." You started, shaking your head. "You never fail to surprise me." Daryl looked at you, stunned. "I jus' poured out ma heart to ya - and you... smile?" "Uh, um, yes, because now I know that the feeling is mutual." He furrowed his brows. "M-Mutual?" You nodded, stepping closer to him, until you could place your hands on his grey poncho clad chest. All the anger suddenly vanished; thrown out of the window. Daryl flinched a bit at your sudden touch, didn't see it coming. "I care about you, too, Daryl. So much that it often keeps me awake at night, when you are out there alone to search for Rick or hunt. I liked you from the very beginning. From the day you and the others saved us from Woodbury and brought us to the prison." You smiled even wider, rubbed your hands affectionately over his chest. "Okay, admittedly, I was a bit scared of you at first, 'cause you were quite a bit intimidating, but... I-I guess with time turned intimidation into admiration. Admiration turned into affection. Affection turned into a crush, and well... The crush turned into love. W-What I'm tryin' to say is... I-I think I l-love you." Daryl blinked, still visibly stunned. He needed a moment to catch up. But once, the words had fully sunk in, a warm feeling started to spread throughout the archer's body. A feeling, he never felt that strong in his life before, but he always knew was there – since the prison. Love. It couldn't be something different. Slightly awkwardly, he lifted his hands to place them on your hips, pulling you gently closer. "Love ya, too." The words he never used in his life before, slipped so easily over his lips all of a sudden.

You were beaming now. Your face almost started to hurt from all the smiling. Quickly, you pressed a short, soft kiss on Daryl's lips, taking him by surprise once again. He looked at you shocked at first, but then started to smile, blushing. "Can we go home now, please?" You asked after staring into his beautiful blue eyes for a long moment. "I'm freezing my ass off and this-" You pointed to your thigh. "Really hurts." Daryl nodded quickly, "'Course." and quickly moved to pick you up bridal style. A soft squeak left your lips, followed by a giggle. "Daryl! What are you doing?" "What does it look like?" You shook your head, still giggling, but clasped your hands around his neck. "You can't carry me all the way." Daryl started to walk, whistling for Dog to follow him. "I can and I will. Gotta take care of ma woman." My woman... You liked the sound of that.

[icy-watch]

That was so cute and wholesome. Aaaaah.

Um. Yeah. Just me crying over here.

I'm not really sure what to expect of the next season, but I was told it's called Master of the Mountain.

No idea what that could really mean, but I'm guessing there's a mountain and some guy who's the master of it. And that's really about all I have.

So, since this is the end of Prime Empire, I'll be watching the shorts tomorrow that explain some things. So, a chill day tomorrow. Until then!

Correct and incorrect predictions under the cut.

Correct

Unagami is one of the people in charge? Or an AI? Unagami is an AI and he was in charge.

Milton Dyer created Unagami. Yes.

The ninja will listen to Okino as he helps them thru Terra Kerana. They did, and Lloyd got a new dad.

Okino became more cognizant while he was with the ninja. He's also going to Go Thru It. He learned so much, and he gained so much more. Gained more Trauma, that is.

Unagami is an AI that gathered some consciousness. He did.

Unagami wants to go to Ninjago to find Milton Dyer. He did, and he was reunited with his dad after they had an emotional talk. The emotional one was me. I'm a wreck.

The ninja being out of credits will be important later. Meanwhile, in the very next episode...

The race is going to be the next episode. It was!

Seven will make it past the fourth mile marker. She did!

Rescue mission to recover Zane from the Mechanic. Surprisingly, yes, in the same episode as the background of Milton and Unagami.

Unagami is going to visit Ninjago, and he's going to bring some friends. It's not going to go well for Ninjago. The city has been in worse shapes after the final battle, but there was some damage. And people might have been injured.

We're going to lose Nya. She got rubix cubed, just like everybody else.

A confrontation between Milton and Unagami. TT__TT Yes.

Milton won't die.

Incorrect

Evil video game. Just a normal video game that was abandoned, and the AI in charge lashed out.

Milton Dyer was pulled into the game. He was just in hiding.

It will be a few more episodes before the rest of the ninja make it into Prime Empire. They made it in during the very next episode.

The motherboard needs to be inserted back into the arcade game for everyone to be able to return to Ninjago. A giant gateway also works.

It'll be a hot minute before the other ninja find Jay in Prime Empire. They were told where to find him in the very end of the next episode.

The League of Jay will be helpful down the line. They really just helped out that 1 time and that was it. We were cheated out of some more Jays all season.

Unagami is an old enemy with a new alias. Boy was I wrong there.

Lloyd will be the first ninja to lose all his lives. *crying about Cole and Kai*

The ninja are going to return to Scott's garage to find it trashed and him missing. He was alive and well, until Seven showed up.

Time flows different in Prime Empire than it does in Ninjago. I thought I had something, but it was a nothing.

Everyone will leave Prime Empire using the inter-dimensional arcade portals. Apparently, I never said anything about the gate in my main prediction posts (which I go off, not my opener "what's this ep gonna be about" post), sooooo... yeah.

Zane's not going to come out of this whole thing ok. He was able to shake it off faster than Taylor Swift.

Partially

Kai and Scott will lose their last life. Kai doing something stupid, and Scott in the race. They both did lose their last life, but Scott sacrificed himself for the ninja and Kai and Cole both lost their last life during the race.

We're going to lose someone during the race. We lost 2 someones.

The level to get the third Keytana will be a fighter game. It was a platform game + infinity maze + fighter game.

It's going to come down to Jay vs. Unagami. Yes, but mostly no.

Unconfirmed

Unagami paid attention to the ninja back on Ninjago. It wasn't ever confirmed how Unagami clocked the ninja as his enemies before they arrived in Prime Empire, but the Mechanic might have been the person informing him about the ninja. He might have informed Unagami of everything the ninja have done.

[mitskijamie]

ok for angst then: do you think roy ever unintentionally scares jamie? bc as much as roy ISN'T james tartt, he is an older man with anger issues, a history of violence, who is constantly telling jamie what to do / how to play. and i say unintentionally not only on roy's behalf but also because jamie DOES trust roy so so so much, IMO, but his body's reactions might not always listen. how do you think they'd deal with that situation?

Ooh great question. Going to try to express myself as best I can here because I know this is a hotly contested topic

Personally, I don't think Roy reminds Jamie of James very much if at all. There are superficial similarities, but Jamie's relationship with Roy is so different from his relationship with his father that I don't get the impression that he sees them as analogous in any way.

For one thing, Jamie does what James tells him to do because he's "fucking terrified" (as he says in Mom City) of him, which makes sense, because grew up knowing that he'd be assaulted if he didn't do what James told him to do. Jamie's obviously not scared of Roy - he spends the entire first season disrespecting his authority as captain, calling him names, and starting physical fights with him, which he wouldn't do if he saw Roy as a threat. His devotion to Roy comes from a place of respect rather than fear, which creates a completely different dynamic than the one he has with his father. Jamie knows that Roy is very talented, very experienced, and has his best interests at heart (unlike James), and he freely agrees to let Roy train him on the basis that he believes Roy legitimately has something to offer him. He describes Roy telling him what to do/how to play as "motivating" and "encouraging" because it's something he actually wants and benefits from

Wrt the yelling, I don't think it really bothers Jamie all that much in the context of the workplace. There's a scene in the locker room where Roy is cussing everybody out at the top of his lungs and Jamie is standing right behind him laughing lol (and ik people think that was a character break but Phil says it was scripted and I Believe him). Jamie's spent his whole life in men's sports, and I'm sure he's plenty used to being yelled at by coaches. The only time Jamie has a visceral reaction to yelling is when Ted is telling him off about practice in Two Aces, and I think that's because he sees Ted as a father figure on a personal level in season 1

HOWEVER Jamie almost definitely has c-ptsd, and I think Roy has certain habits that could trigger him in some situations. For example, there's a scene in "headspace" where Roy and Keeley are fighting and he storms out of the room, shouts "FUCK," and slams something (which James does in "the hope that kills you"). I think that's the kind of thing that would be problematic in a relationship with Jamie moreso than the training stuff

The best option would be for Roy to talk to Dr. Fieldstone about it, and I think at the point the s3 finale left off, that's exactly what he would do. He'd probably feel incredibly guilty and I think he's at a point where that would drive him to commit to finding better coping mechanisms.

They'd also have to have a conversation about it of course. Set boundaries. "I love you but you cannot walk around here slamming doors and breaking shit that isn't okay with me" etc

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME! last night we watched ds9's "in the cards" and "call to arms."

in the cards:

this one was SO cute. i loved that the b-plot was the a-plot and vice versa. like yes you have open warfare getting ready to happen in the background but what really matters here is baseball

there's not a single unfunny joke in this whole episode. worf listening to klingon opera at 82 decibels. the mission impossible esque theft of bashir's teddy bear. the horrific puns in kira's speech. jake and nog accusing kai winn of stealing a baseball card. jake bullshitting to weyoun that he was a time traveller investigating willie mays. i could go on and on

but, of course, special shoutout to this guy who was doing the immortality thing. the uh. "my cells get bored and experience cellular ennui so i have to deliver uplifting and entertaining messages to my nuclei with this here machine" guy. the "getting hounded by soulless minions of orthodoxy" guy. shoutout to him for easily being the funniest one-off character trek has ever had. every word he said was full of like 10 other words. i felt like could listen to him ramble forever and he would just keep getting more and more outrageous. he is my favorite kind of star trek background freak i think

finally, the end did get me to well up a little. jake and sisko my BEST friends are so heartwarming and also his and nogs good deeds giving everyone that last moment of peace...wah

call to arms:

MY KING ROM! i'm so thrilled he's finally getting hitched. actually, between that and his general demeanor (calm and brave in the face of danger) i was SURE they were gonna kill him off in this episode. so sure that i paused and checked for "status: active" on memory alpha. very scary moment

also it's so funny how he came up with this saving grace hail mary solution while in the middle of a wedding panic attack. he is so smart and i love him

quark overbuying the yamok sauce and then kira calling him a worm right in front of dax, who is a worm, and then quark missing the yamok sauce at the end. this show is truly so funny sometimes. the way he like. wah. says he thinks rom's wedding is stupid and rom is dumb for staying behind but really he's elated rom got married and he's worried about rom's safety. alright. idk i think letting us see that he does HAVE a soul was so important because now when he says evil shit it's so much easier to infer that he doesn't mean it exactly the way he says it, or it's not all he really thinks, etc etc. he's grown so much for me this season <3

KIRA AND ODO'S LITTLE CONVERSATION.................man everyone seems to Hate this ship so i've been so worried it will be bad but Actually it was very good. neither of them are very good with the touchy-feely stuff unless someone's dying, about to die, or has just died so this was actually very in-character - even odo was relieved to sort of put it on hold for the moment. it was charming. also, it's romantic that he knows exactly what would make her the most comfortable in this moment <3

sisko and weyoun are great but theyre never gonna be what sisko and dukat were. like, weyoun has taken over that little frenemy who is also a freak niche because they wanted to remind us that dukat is ACTUALLY a bad-bad person and not just our friend shaped war criminal, and they're fine, i like weyoun, but he just isn't dukat

i do NOT like this thing theyre doing with garak and ziyal. please please please for the love of god no. he is like 20 years older than her. if you are going to make him date someone who is not bashir can that someone PLEASE be his age

DAX AGREEING TO MARRY WORF! now that's romance. damn it's really going around

idk, it's really nice because everybody was at their best and bravest. dax giving worf a reason to come back and kira and odo and quark all babysitting the station together and sisko giving dukat hell before he leaves, martok's perfectly timed rescue, jake and rom staying behind. ds9's action episodes normally feel a little weaker to me but this one had so much heart, it was absolutely fantastic

TONIGHT: voy's "scorpion part ii" AAAAAAAAAAA and "the gift." rip kes but HELLO SEVEN OF NINE!