#so i'm bracing myself for season 2

[hartwinorlose]

the way i didn't care about louis or lestat at all in the book and now if loustat aren't endgame, i will be walking into the river and becoming a trout

[rafecameronssl4t]

Trapped || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @whumpypepsigal

Summary: canon fic based off season 2 episode 9

Warnings: swearing, reader dr*gs Sarah, mention of dead body, reader lowk is abit crazy

Word count: 1,463

A/n: guys I acc have an addiction to writing canon fics but I can’t help myself, they’re so fun to write 😭

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

"What the hell!" Sarah screamed, throwing another wine glass at the door, its contents spraying everywhere. "You asshole!" she continued, banging her fist against the wood. "Rafe! Let me out!"

"I'm not letting you out, Sarah. Not until you calm down, okay?" Rafe's voice came through the door, surprisingly calm despite Sarah's outburst. "Screw you!" Sarah fired back, frustration evident in her voice.

Walking down the staircase, you were startled awake by the commotion. "Rafe, what's going on?" you called out, confusion etched on your face as Rafe turned to face you, "who is that?". "Y/n?" Sarah's voice came from behind the door, filled with relief.

"Sarah?" you said incredulously, glancing between Rafe and the locked door. "Yeah," Rafe replied casually, causing your breath to hitch in disbelief. "Why is she locked in there?" you asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "Rafe locked me in here!" Sarah's voice was strained with frustration and panic.

"She's in there because sometimes you have to make the hard choice, right?" Rafe explained as you stare at him in shock, "she just didn't get that," he continues with a shrug. "Right choice? What- what the fuck is going on, Rafe. You're scaring me," you gulp, your voice trembling as you tried to comprehend the situation, your eyes darting from the door to Rafe.

"You fail to understand that constantly, don't you? Huh?"Rafe's voice rose slightly as he banged his hand against the door. "Shut the hell up!" Sarah yelled from inside the room, her desperation audible as you run a hand through your hair, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

"You need to calm down!" Rafe shouted at the door, his frustration palpable. You reached out and gripped his shoulders firmly. As Sarah’s screams echoed through the room—“What do you mean, calm down? What is wrong with you?”—you closed your eyes briefly, steadying yourself. Placing your hands on either side of Rafe’s face, you forced him to look at you.

“Go upstairs. I’ve got this,” you said, managing to keep your voice calm. Rafe hesitated, then nodded, seemingly trusting you. “All right,” he agreed, but you noticed his eyes flicking back toward the door. “Just go!” you insisted, your tone firmer. As he finally turned and walked up the stairs, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart while watching him disappear from view.

Turning back to the door, you approached it slowly. "Sarah," you called out gently. "Can you let me out?" Sarah's voice came back, filled with desperation. "I need you to calm down, Sarah," you urged softly, bracing yourself as Sarah continued to pound on the door. "Let me out!" she sobbed, her fear palpable.

"I really want to help you, Sarah, but I need to get the key first, okay?" you explained patiently, trying to soothe her panic. "I can't let you out without the key. Sarah, listen to me," you said firmly, your voice unwavering despite the urgency of the situation. "I promise you, I won't let Rafe do anything to you. But I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me? I'll be right back."

"No, no, no, no," Sarah repeated, her voice trembling with panic as you stepped away from the door. "Y/n! Y/n! Please... please don't leave!" she pleaded desperately, her distress palpable.

When you made it upstairs, Rafe was nowhere to be found. You hurried to the kitchen, riffling through the medicine drawer. "What are you doing?" Wheezie's voice came from behind, making you jump. Your hand flying to your chest to steady your racing heart. "Jesus, Wheez, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Go back to your room, you should be asleep right now," you said, still searching through the pill bottles until you found what you were looking for. "What is that for?" Wheezie questions, coming closer to you. "It's for me," you replied, trying to stay calm as you set up a tea set on a tray. "I can't sleep."

"Right," Wheezie nodded as you glanced at her. "Go to bed, Eloise. I'm serious," you insisted, your tone firm as she raised her hands in surrender. "All right, all right," she muttered, and you watched her retreat upstairs.

Letting out a shaky breath, you opened the teapot and placed it on the stove, letting it steep for a few moments. Then, grabbing the keys from the counter, you collected the tea set and headed downstairs.

Unlocking the door with a quiet click, it creaked open slowly. "Sarah?" you called out, seeing her scramble towards you. Her eyes were red and puffy, her appearance disheveled. "I need to call 911. We need to—" Her voice trembled with urgency, but you gently took her hand.

"Okay, sit down," you urged, guiding her to the armchair. "Sarah, it's okay," you said softly, trying to calm her as she struggled to catch her breath. "Tell me what happened." You sat beside her, speaking in a soothing tone. "Take deep breaths. In and out. That's it," you encouraged, mirroring your breaths with hers. "It's okay."

"It's okay," you repeated reassuringly, pouring tea into a cup. With a shaky voice, Sarah began to explain. "I came home, and, um, I was looking for something. And there's a truck outside," she said, taking the tea cup you passed to her.

"Here, here. Take some tea," you said gently, helping Sarah hold the cup in her shaky hands. "There's a body back there, y/n!" she whispered, tears streaming down her face, and your eyes widened in shock.

"We need to turn him in," Sarah's voice cracked as she took sips of the tea. "We'll get to the bottom of it, okay?" you reassured her, though your own voice trembled slightly. "Will you help me call?" Sarah asked with a shaky voice, and your heart broke knowing what lay ahead.

"I will help you. Here, drink more," you encouraged, guiding the cup close to her mouth while pretending to drink from your own. "I'm afraid Rafe has killed someone else," Sarah's words made you pause, setting the cup back down. "And last time he did that... Dad took the blame, and you see where that got him," she sniffled, and you listened intently.

"Sarah, you're right. Something is wrong with Rafe, okay?" You affirmed softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Sarah nodded, her tears flowing freely now. “I’m so tired of it,” she sobbed. "I know. You just need to calm down. It's gonna be okay," you offered her a gentle smile, your hand patting her thigh reassuringly. "You need to rest, Sarah."

"I don't need—" Sarah began, her voice trembling as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "No, you do," you interjected gently but firmly as you knelt beside her. "I'm fine!" Sarah insisted, her words strained as she leaned back in the chair, her whole body tense with anxiety.

"And then, when you wake up, everything's gonna be so much better," you said softly, trying to reassure her. "Yeah, I'm gonna come with you guys on this little trip. What do you think about that?" you suggested, watching Sarah's gaze drop to the cup in her trembling hands. Her breathing grew heavy, and she seemed overwhelmed.

“What—what did you do?” Sarah whispered, looking at you with a mixture of fear and betrayal, tears welling in her eyes, mirrored by your own. "Sarah, I'm really sorry," your voice cracked with emotion as you pulled out the pill bottle. Sarah's face fell as she stared at it, realization dawning.

"Nothing bad is gonna happen to you, I promise. I promise nothing bad is gonna happen to you, but I needed you to rest," you pleaded, tears now streaming down your face as Sarah shook her head in disbelief,

"No, no, no. You're just like him, you're just like Rafe, I—" You couldn't bear to hear Sarah's words, your eyes screwing shut and your hand instinctively covering your mouth. Just like Rafe. The words echoed painfully in your mind.

"I had to do it, Sarah. You won't understand," you murmured sadly, shaking your head at her. But Sarah's eyes rolled back, her body suddenly going limp, the cup slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” You whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you leave.

~

“Rafe,” you called out weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as he turned around, his eyes widening in concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. “What is going on—” Your voice cracked, tears welling up in your eyes. Before you could say more, Rafe rushed over and wrapped you in a tight embrace.

You sniffled against his chest, feeling his hand move soothingly across your back in comforting circles. He kissed your forehead gently, his touch warm and reassuring. “Everything will be okay, yeah?” he murmured, trying to calm you down.

“I just talked to Sarah,” you began, your words catching in your throat. “She said there’s a body in the truck, right?”Rafe’s expression grew serious as he pulled back slightly to look at you. “That’s Renfield,” he confirmed with a deep sigh. His voice was steady, almost detached, as if he were trying to distance himself from the gravity of the situation.

You slowly pulled away from his grip, your mind racing with questions and doubts. Seeing your reaction, worry filled his eyes. “No, no, y/n. I didn’t do shit, okay? I didn’t do shit!” he insisted, his tone urgent as he tried to convince you. You studied his face, searching for any sign of deception.

“Limbrey did it. I took the truck, and I left the old lady at the hangar, all right?” Rafe explained in a calm, measured tone, stepping closer to you. You could feel your breathing quicken, your heart pounding in your chest. “I got the cross for all of us, okay?”

Your hand came up to your forehead, a headache starting to throb painfully. “This is all so much—” you whispered, feeling overwhelmed by what just happened. Noticing your panic, Rafe gently took your hands in his. “Here, you need to sit down,” he said softly, guiding you to an armchair and helping you to sit.

As you sank into the chair, Rafe knelt beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I got the cross for all of us, okay?” he spoke, his voice steady. You remained quiet, focusing on steadying your breathing. “Okay?” Rafe repeated, his voice rising slightly in urgency. You quickly nodded, hoping to calm him down.

“And I was just getting ready to take care of Renfield when you came up,” Rafe continued, his tone shifting to one of anger and annoyance. You looked at him in disbelief. “Why are you getting mad at me right now—” you began, but Rafe cut you off.

“You should be… you should be thanking me,” he insisted, his gaze intense and unyielding. “Thanking you? What the fuck, Rafe, I just drugged Sarah for you,” you exclaimed, pushing his hand off of you in frustration. Rafe furrowed his brows, confusion mingling with anger. “I didn’t—I didn’t ask you to do that, okay—” he started, but you cut him off with a stern voice.

“What was I supposed to do, Rafe? She already knew about the body and she was freaking the fuck out. She was going to turn you in!” Your voice rose in volume, the tension between you thickening. Rafe stayed quiet, absorbing your words, the reality of the situation sinking in.

“Sarah was out of control, and I had to do something,” you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. “I can’t keep doing these things for you,” you sniffled, your fingers nervously playing with the initials on your necklace, the small charm feeling like a heavy weight.

“Hey, what are you trying to say—” Rafe began, his face a mask of confusion and concern as he took a step closer to you. “But I will,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. You looked up at him with a mix of resignation and love in your eyes.

“Because I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone,” you said quietly, your heart aching with the truth of your words. Rafe’s expression softened as he reached out and pulled you into a deep, reassuring kiss. His lips were warm and familiar, a brief moment of comfort in the chaos.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family. I’m serious,” Rafe murmured against your lips, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you, your body and mind drained from everything that just happened.

“Go to bed. I’ll sort it all out, okay?” Rafe said softly, helping you stand up. His hands were gentle but firm, guiding you towards the stairs. You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and weariness.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 36: Severed

Joel, Tommy and Ellie search for you. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-35 found on Tumblr here.

I'm sorry I couldn't resist.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and a step beyond. Torture. Mention of past sexual assault (not described). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8.2k

A/N: I want to state, real quick, that Bambi is NOT going to be sexually assaulted again. This is a highly triggering subject and, given the situation she's in, I understand if folks are bracing for it. That's not going to happen. The threat of it is there but it's not going to happen.

We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. This character returns NEXT CHAPTER. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel had rarely paid much mind to how long it took to get out of Jackson before. 

“Tommy,” Maria was stalking after her husband as he, Joel and Ellie headed for the stable. “Be reasonable, you can’t just take off…” 

“Sorry, babe, but I can’t just sit here and let ‘em have a piece of her,” Tommy said as they went to the stable. There were the two horses Tommy and Joel had just returned on, the three that had carried the kids back, and some horses you’d been working with. You’d been telling Joel about their progress, how one was nearing well broke and you wanted him to go with you to the shooting range with her soon to get her accustomed to the sound of gunfire. 

“Do you have some kind of death wish you haven’t bothered to tell me about?” Maria planted herself in front of her husband, her arms crossed, defiant. “You have responsibilities here, Tommy! People who depend on you, people like me and our fucking son! You don’t get to just take off at your brother’s command anymore!” 

Joel stiffened at that. He and Maria had gotten to a good place in their relationship over the years, her moving past the thought that he’d been the driving force behind all her husband’s misdeeds. They’d settled into a mutual respect and eventual affection since he’d come to Jackson, Maria seeming to appreciate what he did for the community and the way he loved her son and Joel admiring her leadership and the way she was a partner to his little brother. He thought they were past this. 

Maybe he was wrong. 

Tommy took his wife’s shoulders in his hands, his thumbs rubbing little circles against her. 

“If it were you, he’d be going with me,” he said gently. “That’s my baby sister out there, Maria. Can’t live with myself if something happens to her and I didn’t do everything I can to stop it. I’m goin’. You can either help and hope we get back soon or you can be pissed while I’m gone but I’m goin’, you can’t stop me.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went and stood beside Joel, looking over the horses. 

“What’s better,” he asked. “Tired mounts or ones that might spook?” 

Joel looked at his brother for a moment, thankful that he had him to rely on, and ground his teeth. He didn’t know the answer. 

“They’re on foot,” Ellie said, joining them. “Tired is probably better, we’re still going to catch them. But I don’t expect this to be quiet and if we’re on horses that spook, well…” 

Joel gave her a stiff nod and went to get the horses ready to leave. He was moving as quickly as he could but it felt slow, everything felt so slow. It felt like he should be running, pushing himself to the brink so he could reach you sooner. Every second you were away from him hurt. It was worse than when you’d left Jackson to search for Savvy in the blizzard. That had been bad enough but at least then he could believe that you were in one piece, that you could take care of yourself. 

That wasn’t the case now. He knew you weren’t safe. He knew you weren’t OK. He knew he’d vowed to protect you, the night the two of you made promises to each other in his bed he had sworn to keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. 

He’d failed at that. 

He’d failed and now he was here, doing what he had to do to make sure he could reach you. It just didn’t feel like enough. Nothing would, not until he held you again. 

Tommy and Maria talked in low, harsh voices until they had things situated. Food, water, ammunition, medical kit.

“Tommy,” Joel said, jerking his head toward the horses, voice sharper than he’d meant it to be. His brother jogged over to him, taking the reins of his horse from him. 

“The guys who brought the kids back are going to wait here until a few more crews come in,” Tommy said. “Then they’re coming out after us. We can mark a path. With fresher horses, they’ll catch us quick.” 

Joel nodded stiffly and the three of them led their horses to the gate, Maria following with her arms crossed over her stomach. In another situation, Joel would have taken the time to talk with her and reassure her. He didn’t have the luxury of time now. 

He mounted up as the gates opened, Ellie and Tommy following suit, the three of them riding through the gate the moment there was room. 

“Joel!” Maria called after a moment. He looked back at her. “Bring my husband home.” 

He watched her for a moment, at the fear on her face and in her wide eyes, a mirror of what he was feeling now. But she was still letting him go. He wasn’t sure he could do the same in her position.

“I will.”

 Ellie took the lead, pointing out the spot in the fence where kids left town. Joel ground his teeth and resisted the urge to yell yet again. What good would it do? What was done was done and this lesson was one he doubted Ellie would forget. She didn’t need to be taught it again.

They rode for nearly two hours when they came upon a small clearing and Ellie jumped off her horse before it had even come to a stop. 

“We were here,” she said, looking around, almost panicky. “We were here, I know we were, they had us behind that tree…” 

She ran over to it, walking around it until Joel couldn’t see her anymore. 

“Ellie!” He called. He couldn’t have her out of sight, not right now. 

“I was right,” she called back, coming around the tree. “I took a chunk of bark off of it, this is where we were but they’re gone, completely fucking gone, I don’t…” 

Joel was less surprised than Ellie. 

“They weren’t about to sit and wait for us to find ‘em,” he said. “We need to track ‘em. We’ll find them.” 

He, Tommy and Ellie circled the clearing on foot, looking for signs of a trail. It didn’t take them long to find one. Unfortunately, they found more than one. 

“The fuckers split up,” Tommy kicked a plant in frustration. “Any way to tell which group had her?” 

“Smaller boot prints, maybe,” Joel said, looking closely at the ground. 

“But there were other women,” Ellie said. Joel’s head snapped toward her. “They had a few women. I didn’t talk to them but… She wouldn’t be the only one.” 

“We can’t split up,” Tommy said. “It’s too goddamn risky, there are too fuckin’ many of ‘em, we have to stick together…” 

Joel nodded, trying to think. He tried to keep his shit together but he could feel it happening, the panic setting into his bones. He could hear the blood in his ears, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He was having a hard time taking a full breath, his head spun. He reached out, his hand finding a tree trunk, giving him something to root him to the ground. 

“Joel?” Ellie’s hand appeared at his back. “Hey, you can’t die on us right now, we have to get her back, you can’t do this now, you gotta keep it together, you hear me?” 

He nodded quickly, closing his eyes for a moment. His mind scrambled for something - anything - to hold him here, something to make him push past the fear and do what he had to do. 

He thought of you. 

He thought of the first time he’d felt your body against him, on the back of a horse in the snow-covered forest. The first time he’d held you because you wanted him to, how you’d sought comfort in him. The first time he’d kissed you, how your lips had fit softly against his, the quick little breaths you’d made, the way you’d felt so close to him. The first time he’d touched you as his wife, how your body was so familiar to him but was brand new, too, with this new context. You were his, he was yours and he needed to keep himself together long enough to get you home. 

He took a deep, shaky breath. 

“We follow one trail,” he said. “We either find her or we find the people at the end of it. If she ain’t with ‘em, we get ‘em to tell us where she is.” 

“You really think they’re just going to, what, tell you whatever you want to know?” Ellie gaped at him. “They’re not going to just answer your fucking questions, Joel!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on askin’ nice,” Joel said, stalking back toward the horses. “We follow the middle track. See where it leads.” 

Joel knew he should feel some kind of shame about what he was about to do. What he wanted to do, how he wanted to hurt them. He’d never told Ellie the finer points of what he and Tommy used to do - still did, when the need arose. He’d never told her what he did to find her when David had her and he was desperate. She knew he used to kill people, he thought she had some idea of just what that entailed but he’d protected her from the worst of it, the most shameful parts. 

Now, he was hungry for it. If he were a dog, he’d be salivating for it, aching to get his jaws around the throat of the man who had taken you from him. He didn’t want to just kill him, that wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough the year before when he’d sent him away from Jackson and it wasn’t enough now when he was doing who knows what to you. He was going to enjoy pulling him apart, piece by fucking piece. He almost hoped that Cody wasn’t with the men they were tracking, that he’d find you and have the chance to take every ounce of pain from them before finding Cody and taking it from him, too. He couldn’t even regret the drive to do it or the fact that he knew he could do it and do it well. His only concern, after finding you, was exposing Ellie to that. 

But they lived in a harsh world. Maybe it was good for her to know the harsher parts of it. 

Joel led the way, slower going now that they were beyond where Ellie knew the group to be. They were carefully tracking a group of what looked like seven people - including two women - for hours. It was dusk when Tommy noticed the signs of people first, giving a low whistle that sounded something like a bird. Joel looked over his shoulder and Tommy nodded toward a patch of sky he could see through the trees. Joel looked up. There was smoke. 

He dismounted and tied his horse off, Ellie and Tommy doing the same, before the three of them prowled, quiet and slow, toward the smoke. It wasn’t long before they could smell it, hear the quiet laughs of men. Joel tightened his jaw and his grip on his gun. His heart raced. 

The group they came upon largely had their guard down. Joel spotted someone through the trees, beyond the fire, looking like they were patrolling. Otherwise, they weren’t paying any attention. Joel gestured to Tommy and Ellie, sending them behind larger trees, Joel going to one himself. He peered around the thick trunk to find them there, make sure these weren’t just innocents passing through and seeing if he could catch a glimpse of you. 

But they weren’t innocents, a woman with her hands bound sitting beside one of the men at the fire, another one - also tied - with her back against a tree. There was no sign of you or Cody. 

Tommy met Joel’s gaze, his face set and determined. Joel gave him a stiff nod before turning to Ellie, her own expression hardened with barely controlled rage. She didn’t even look at Joel, too busy watching the men around the tree. 

Joel took a deep breath and raised his gun, stepping around the tree and firing, catching the man with his back to them in his head. He fell forward with a thud. 

There was a moment of stunned silence, the only sound birds fleeing the crack of the gun. Then, it was chaos, the men scrambling for weapons. One of the women screamed. 

“Need two alive!” Joel yelled to his brother and daughter, pressing closer and firing again, felling another man. 

Tommy shot next, a third man going down. A bullet whizzed past Joel’s head, close enough that he felt the heat of it on his skin, the shot clipping his ear. He ignored the sharp pain of it, watching as the shot Ellie got off dropped a fourth man. The fact that they’d caught the men when they’d stopped for the night was to their advantage. They were clearly used to traveling in a larger group and running unchallenged, only watching for infected who often made themselves known with crackling breaths, the sound of crunching through the brush and sharp clicks. They weren’t expecting a small group to come in, guns blazing. They were slow getting their weapons, rifles on the ground and out of reach, making picking them off like shooting fish in a barrel. Joel shot the man on watch as he came running toward the fire, his gun raised and aimed at Joel. 

Tommy charged forward and grabbed a man who was just getting to his feet, his back toward the three of them. He was just raising his gun when Tommy swung the butt of his rifle at his head, catching the man in the temple and knocking him off balance. He took advantage of the moment and ripped the weapon out of the man’s hands, casting it aside before shoving him to the ground and putting his boot in his chest. Tommy leveled his rifle at his head, holding the man in place. 

“Got one!” He yelled to Joel. 

There were two men left standing now, one reaching for a gun. Ellie shot him in the shoulder before Joel got a chance to react, sending him sprawling on the ground. The other was smarter. He grabbed the nearest woman and pulled her in front of him as she screamed, pressing a gun to her head, his eyes darting between Joel and Ellie. 

“Keep coming and I kill ‘er,” he panted. 

“Joel,” Ellie’s eyes darted toward him. “What do we do?” 

“Let me go,” the man said, the woman in his grip trembling. “Him too, and I leave her alive.” 

Joel didn’t have time for this. He moved quickly, raising his gun and firing, hitting the man in the middle of his forehead. The woman screamed again, covered in his blood and stumbling forward as his body went limp on of her. 

“Shit,” Ellie lowered her gun, looking at Joel. “I thought we needed two.” 

“Think we got two,” he stalked over to the man Ellie had hit in the shoulder. He was whimpering on the ground, clutching the hole that was gushing blood. 

“Please,” he said, eyes wide. Joel ignored him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him to the man Tommy still had at gun point. He dropped the man there with a pained groan and he looked to the women, the one who had been a hostage sitting up next to the body of the man who’d had her. 

“C’mere,” Joel said. They looked at each other quickly but stayed still. Joel, again, resisted the urge to yell. He didn’t have time for this. “Ellie, cut ‘em loose, tell ‘em how to get to Jackson if they want. Give ‘em whatever they need. See what they know.”

Joel turned his attention back to the man on the ground, going down on one knee beside him. He grabbed his hair in his fist, forcing his eyes to meet his own. 

“You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know,” Joel said. “And you’re gonna do it quick. Understand?” 

“Why would we tell you a goddamn thing?” The man below Tommy asked, watching Joel. His words were quick, panicky. Joel looked back at him for a moment before he ripped the injured man’s hand away from his wound with one hand and thrust his thumb inside the bullet hole, pressing up into the tendon below his skin. The man thrashed and screamed, the shrill sound sharp and cutting. Joel left his thumb jammed inside him until the other man spoke again, his eyes wide. “Fuck, OK! OK! What do you want to know, we’ll tell you! We’ll tell you, please!” 

Joel pulled his thumb free of the man’s body and wiped the blood on a clean spot on his shirt, turning his full attention back to the man below him. 

“Should get one thing straight now,” Joel said. His voice was flat. “I don’t mind hurtin’ you. In fact, I like it. Like gettin’ justice for everything you’ve done wrong in this life. I can promise you’ve done a lot wrong and I can promise I can make you pay for every goddamn ounce of it in blood. I know how to make it last. But I’m in a hurry and I want this over quick. It’s in your best interest to give me what I want. Got it?” 

The man gave a shaky nod. 

“Your boss has got my wife,” Joel said. “You split up. I need to know where he’s takin’ her.” 

“He gave us a meet up point,” he said, voice shaking. “We were afraid of someone coming after her, he had us split up, he’s got her not us, I swear…” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Where.” 

“I don’t know where he’s taking her,” he said quickly. “I know where we’re supposed to meet him tomorrow, that’s all! I swear, I don’t know where he’s going.” 

Joel thrust his thumb inside the gunshot wound again, plunging it deeper, pulling harder at the structure of him as he screamed and writhed. 

“No, stop!” The man below Tommy begged. “We don’t know, we don’t know! We just know he was taking her to trade, that’s all we know!” 

Joel froze before pulling his thumb from his body. He grabbed the man’s hair again, forcing him to look at him. 

“Trade?” His heart was pounding. “Trade for what.” 

“Territory,” the man panted. “Please, there’s a guy who wants ‘er, promised us territory if we got her for him, that’s all I know. He was going to try and meet with him, see if they can cut a deal. If he couldn’t find him or couldn’t get what he wanted, he’s meeting us in the morning.” 

Joel looked to Tommy, his face hard. Tommy just gave him a nod. It seemed like the truth. Joel turned back to the man. 

“You’re gonna tell me where the rendezvous point is,” he said. “And you’re gonna keep it real quiet and then we’re gonna ask your friend the same question and he’d better say the same place as you. Got it?” 

Joel leaned in close, the rattle of the man’s pained breaths hot and wet on his ear. 

“North, ten miles,” he said. “Where the rivers meet.” 

Joel sat back from him and looked to the other man. 

“Now you,” he said. “Better say the same damn thing as your fuckin’ friend.” 

The man’s eyes darted toward Tommy, who pressed the gun closer. 

“Don’t look at me,” Tommy said. “I ain’t savin’ ya. You wanted to live? Shouldn’t have taken my brother’s girl. Answer the question.” 

“North of here,” he said, looking back to Joel. “Said they’d be there in the morning, we were just stopping to rest for a bit, that’s all…” 

“Where north of here.” 

The man’s eyes darted to his friend before looking back at Joel. 

“Ten miles or so,” he said. “There’s a spot where two rivers meet…” 

Joel nodded slowly and looked to Tommy before getting his knife out. 

“No,” the man below him shook his head. “No, I told you what you wanted to know, I didn’t lie, it was the truth I swear it was the truth!” 

“Oh, I know it was,” Joel said, adjusting his grip on the knife. “But you took my daughters, took my wife. Not about to just let you live.” 

He thrust the knife into the man’s stomach and he gasped, his eyes and mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. Joel angled the blade up, forcing it towards his lungs before twisting it and pulling it free with a harsh tear. He wiped the weapon on the man’s pants before getting to his feet, watching as he tried to hold himself together, not able to take a full breath. He’d drown in his own blood before too long and Joel wanted to watch him do it. This man had taken everything from him. He was owed his suffering. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, nodding down at the remaining man at the end of his gun, one who was clearly about to make a run for it. He knew he was done for, he was desperate. “What are we doin’?” 

“Shoot ‘im,” Joel said. “Not worth the risk.” 

Tommy obeyed, the man dead even had a chance to flinch. Joel went back to watching the the first man gasp and gargle, fighting to breathe and failing. He should feel something, he knew that. He should feel guilt or some kind of pity. He didn’t. He barely even felt satisfaction. You were gone. He was hollow of everything beyond pain and fear and rage. 

“Joel,” Ellie’s voice was quiet behind him. He turned to face her, her eyes wide as she looked between him and the dying man. He’d almost forgotten she was there. 

“Get the women out?” Joel asked, shifting instinctively to block her view of the man suffering at his feet. She peered around him, anyway. 

“Yeah,” she said. “They didn’t know anything. Gave them directions back to Jackson and some guns from these assholes. I don’t know that they’ll end up there but…” 

She looked at the man again for a long moment before looking up at Joel. 

“Did you get an answer?” She asked. “Do we know where Mom is?” 

His chest got tight, hearing Ellie call you that, knowing that he shared children with you and you were gone. 

“We know where Cody’s headed,” Joel said. “Let’s get what we can from here and head out.” 

The three of them took ammunition and weapons and food from the dead before mounting up, Joel taking the lead again. 

It only took a few hours to reach the place the men indicated. The group had stopped here before, Joel could tell. There were signs of fire pits, places where fallen logs had been dragged over for places to sit, cleared brush. 

“What do we do now?” Ellie asked. 

“We wait,” Joel said, not happy about his answer. How was he supposed to just sit here when you were out there, with them? But he didn’t have another choice. 

They got the horses settled and found places to watch and wait where they should see people coming and have the advantage. Joel settled in, Ellie sitting beside him while Tommy kept watch. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” She asked eventually, quietly into the dark. 

“Do what,” he asked, even though he knew. 

“Hurt someone like that,” she said. “Make them give you information.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment, twisting his wedding band over and over on his finger. 

“You know some of what me ’n Tommy did after the outbreak,” he said. “Did some of that, too.” 

She nodded slowly.

“You never talk about it.”

Joel shrugged. The sound of crickets seemed loud, louder than they should be. 

“Not exactly somethin’ I’m proud of, baby girl.”

“But it’s useful,” she said pointedly. 

He sighed. 

“I’ve used it a few times since, when it’s important,” he said. “When it’s to protect you or her. It’s not somethin’ that’s good to know how to do.” 

“I want to know how to protect people, too,” she said, her voice dark. “I have shit to protect, too, Dad. I want to know how.” 

Joel sighed, looking over at her, the outline of her barely visible in the light of the moon as it filtered down through the trees. 

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to know this stuff. That he would always be there to look after her, to do these ugly things that needed doing. But he knew that wasn’t true. 

He’d doomed her to this life, in a way. One where she wanted to know how to pull answers out of someone with pain, how to turn the love you carried for the most important people in the world into a deadly weapon. There was no other way to be in this reality, one with infected and raiders and the last gasp of human kind struggling to continue on. If he’d left the doctor alive, at least, maybe things would be different. Maybe he’d have succeeded without Ellie, maybe the world would have been better for her eventually. 

But he would have come after her and there was no point in fixing the world if it had to continue on without her in it. Good, bad, indifferent, there was no point to any of it if the price was her life. Hers or yours or Savvy’s, the three of you were all that mattered. And he liked knowing he had skills he could fall back on if he needed them. 

“We’ll take care of what needs doin’ now,” Joel said. “Then we can talk.” 

The three of them took turns keeping watch. Joel wasn’t able to sleep. Instead, he thought of you. How he’d had to coax you into life in Jackson, how you’d come to find your place there, how you’d chosen to do all that with him at your side. 

There was a lot in this life he knew he didn’t deserve. He’d never deserved Sarah, that was for damn sure. The world hadn’t deserved her, either. He’d squandered the gift that was her existence, let her down when she’d needed him the most and he’d bourn that weight the rest of his life. He didn’t deserve Ellie, either. He certainly didn’t deserve you, something so strong but soft, vibrant but centering. You were meant for something more than him but you’d chosen him, anyway. He remembered when your fingers first brushed his, when he first heard you play guitar, when he first saw how you loved his daughter like she was your own. He wasn’t sure how he was meant to keep going if he didn’t get you back. What would be the point? Ellie was grown now. Savvy had survived all on her own for years and Ellie had taken her under her wing. They didn’t need him. But he needed you. 

Dawn was just beginning on the horizon when Joel heard it, the sound of people coming in from the north. He roused Ellie and Tommy and the three of them stood, lying in wait amongst the trees, rifles at the ready. 

Joel wanted to come out guns blazing but then he saw Cody, riding on horseback with just two other men. 

They weren’t outnumbered. You weren’t with them. 

Joel readied to step out from the trees, rifle raised. 

“Joel,” Tommy hissed.

“Go around the side,” he said, voice low. “Kill the others. But he’s mine.” 

He moved from behind shelter then, weapon leveled at Cody’s chest.

“Cody!” Joel called, watching as the men’s heads all whipped around to focus on him, scrambling for rifles. “You have what’s mine.” 

Cody lifted a hand to his henchmen and they lowered their weapons as he smirked at Joel. 

“Think she was mine before she was yours,” he sneered. “Seems to me I just took back what got away.” 

“Where is she,” Joel said, prowling closer, straining to keep his voice calm. 

“Back where she belongs,” he said, fishing in his pocket for something. He found it, pulling it out, unwrapping it from a kerchief and throwing it onto the leaves at Joel’s feet. “But you can have the part of her you laid claim to.” 

Joel looked down and his vision narrowed to a sharp, bloody point. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the soreness of his legs and back and the pain at his ear that had been nagging at him suddenly gone. His hands shook as he dropped the rifle and lowered himself, slowly, to the ground. Lying there were two fingers. Your fingers. The wedding band that had been there since Joel had slipped it onto you was bloody, ragged flesh dangling from the ring he’d made you. 

Something inside of Joel snapped then. It was a sharp, clean break, one that he could he could feel deep at the core of him. A severing of his humanity, a setting aside of the things that made him who he was. The love he held for his family, the care he had for the place he called home, the remaining parts of him that were gentle and good - those things were closed to him now. Joel Miller had been called monster many times in his life but he knew he’d never become one. Not truly. He knew it because this had always been there, lurking below the surface, brought forward when he needed it most but always controlled, always contained. It wasn’t contained now. It couldn’t be. 

Joel left the gun on the ground, gently picking up your fingers - sticky and cool - and putting them delicately in his pocket before getting to his feet.

“Thought about sending you back with her whole hand but,” Cody shrugged. “Mitchum has use for it. Nothing she can’t do down a few fingers, though.” 

Joel didn’t even see Ellie and Tommy getting into position when he roared and lunged for Cody, ready to kill him with his bare hands. 

***

The Day Before 

“Move.” 

You glared at Cody, your wrists chained in front of you. 

“Not telling you again,” he said. “They’re still close enough, we could run ‘em down if you want to try me.” 

Your stomach got tight. 

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.” 

He split his men into three groups, hauling the man you’d killed to the brush and leaving his body behind. There were three women you hadn’t seen yet, one going with one of the groups, two with another. You didn’t get a chance to say anything to either of them, just sharing a look of desperation before you were led away. 

“You’re going to regret this,” you said as he shoved you forward. 

“Why, because you’re fucking guard dog is going to run me down?” He sneered. “Think we’ll handle him just fine. Besides, by the time he finds us, you’ll be long gone.” 

You followed his command, trudging through the forest and trying to find some way to leave a trail to follow. Joel would come for you. It would likely be hours yet before he was back from patrol, hopefully long after Ellie and Savvy made it back to town. You knew he’d come looking for you the moment he discovered you were gone, that he’d do anything to get to you. You just needed to make sure he could find you and that you were in one piece when he did. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked once you’d been walking for hours, looking at Cody. “You said you knew it was wrong, you helped me. Now you’re doin’ this? Takin’ me and other women?”

“Let’s just say I learned my lesson with you, Doll,” he said. “Could try to be a ‘good’ man all I wanted, try to do the ‘right’ thing but it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Not like there’s much left here to live for, right? I should just take what I want while I can, no one is going to give it to me, even if I deserve it.” 

“Deserve it?” You stopped and turned to face him. “You think you deserved something from me? You held me prisoner, you fucking raped me, you…” 

His backhand caught you off guard, sending you sprawling to the ground, unable to catch yourself with your bound hands. He stood astride over you, grabbing your face sharply and forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t fucking call it that,” he hissed. “That’s not what it was.” 

You spat in his face. 

“Fuck you.” 

He squared his jaw, like he was considering doing something more to you before he straightened, wiping your spit from his cheek. 

“Get her up,” he said. “We’ll stop here for a bit, take a break. Make her take a piss, get her cleaned up a little. Maybe we’ll have some fun before we hand her over.” 

You hoped the fear didn’t show on your face, that the way your stomach dropped and heart stuttered wasn’t obvious. 

It’s not like you didn’t know, consciously, what this was all leading to, what you were going back to. You’d been there for long enough before, you knew what it was and what this meant. 

But you weren’t sure you could survive it again. It had nearly killed you before. If you hadn’t escaped when you had, you weren’t sure how much longer you would have really lasted living that way and now you were going back to it. It would be worth it to protect your children but the fear of it was still there, the claws of it sharp and harsh inside you. 

Cody smirked. 

“Maybe I’ll show you just how nice I was before,” he said. “Show you what you took for-granted.” 

Two men pulled you roughly to your feet and shoved you into the trees, off the trail you’d been walking. Your chest got tight and your stomach turned and you found yourself flexing your fingers, clenching and unclenching your hands into fists as you tried to focus. Your vision threatened to narrow but you forced yourself to see beyond your own body, think beyond the fact that your lungs couldn’t seem to fill and your head was getting light. 

The men pushed you for a few minutes away from the rest, toward a stream. One stayed further back, watching the forest for signs of infected or someone who might come to take you. 

“Alright,” the other said, nodding to you. “You heard ‘im. Piss, get cleaned up.” 

“You think I’m gonna just do that with you watching?” You sneered, brows raised. 

He stalked forward, drawing his gun and pressing it to your chin. 

“You really think I won’t blow your goddamn head off?” He asked, his breath reeking of rot and liquor. 

“No,” you smirked back. “Your boss has you by the balls. You can’t do shit to me.” 

He stepped back and you saw the strike coming that time, dodging it enough that he caught your cheekbone more than your chin and you stayed standing. 

“I can do that,” he snapped. “And I’ll do it again.” 

“Go ahead,” you said. “Because you’re a little bitch. I’ve had good sex that hurt worse than that.” 

He bared his teeth and he went for you again. 

But he was stupid and big and slow and you knew where he was going to be now. You dodged him, not fully thinking and with no real plan. He stumbled where you’d been standing and you stepped behind him, looping your arms around his neck and pulling back so the chain constricted on his throat. 

He choked and gasped, dropping his gun on instinct as he clawed at your arms, trying rip himself free and trying to make a sound but you were pulling too hard, the other man too far to hear or see what was happening. 

The weight of him thrashing against you sent you off balance and you fell, taking him down with you, his body heavy on top of yours. But you didn’t give in, keeping the chain tight over his throat as he kicked and flailed. You held it there until he went limp and you released him, shoving his body off yourself and panting for breath as you did. You didn’t have time to get the feeling back in your body or to ease the panic, though. It was sheer fucking luck the other man who was standing just out of sight hadn’t heard something and you had to take care of this now. 

You found the gun where the man you’d killed - thought you’d killed, at least, you weren’t about to risk shooting him - had dropped it and took a guess at what direction to run in. 

You didn’t make it far. 

“Hey!” You heard the crush of leaves, someone moving for you. “Fuck, she’s running!” 

You turned and shot, the first bullet going wide as your hands shook but you were able to keep it together enough to get off another shot, this one hitting him square in the chest and he dropped like a stone. 

You kept running. 

You weren’t sure how long you ran for when you heard them, the men closing in on you. You couldn’t afford to look back and take the time to shoot, you had to keep moving, even as the sound pressed closer and your head was swimming. And then a hand closed on the collar of your shirt - Joel’s shirt - and ripped you back and down. You twisted on the ground, trying to aim the gun but it was kicked away from you. 

“You’re gonna regret that you little bitch,” the man panted over you. “We could’ve made this easy on you. We ain’t now.” 

He hauled you to your feet by your bound hands and forced you back to where the group had stopped, finding the two other men who had been sent after you on the way. Cody was standing where you’d stopped before, a small fire built on a patch of dirt in the middle of the trail. 

“You really think that was the smartest thing you could have done?” He asked, his voice almost eerily calm. 

“Did you really think I was just gonna let you hand me over?” You replied. “That I’d just go quietly into being a prisoner?” 

“I guess that’s why Mitchum’s so obsessed with you, isn’t it?” He asked, prowling closer. You wanted to shrink away but you couldn’t, not with the man at your back. “Because you just keep that fight in you. You didn’t give up like the others and he’s a man who likes a little fight.” 

He nodded toward the stump of a tree and the man at your back shoved you to it, forcing you to your knees beside it. 

“Thing is,” Cody said, pulling his knife free of its sheath at his belt. “You don’t need to be… intact for the shit he likes best about you.” 

Your eyes darted. You were surrounded, there was nowhere you could go and nothing you could reach. 

“Don’t be too worried about it,” he continued, kneeling on the other side of the stump. “Think he’d be pretty pissed if we took your whole hand, for example. But I don’t think he’ll miss a few fingers.” 

Your heart raced, the blood pounding in your ears. 

“That a risk you want to take?” You fought to keep your voice calm as you clutched your hands tightly to your body. “You really want to go through all this trouble for nothing?” 

He shrugged. 

“Think we’ll be fine.” 

The man at your back took your wrist in his grasp and shoved your arms down to the jagged wood of the stump, your hands clenched in tight fists. Cody took your left one and pulled at your fingers, trying to pry it open as you grimaced and fought him on it. After a moment, he gave up. 

“Fine,” he said. “Don’t want to cooperate?” 

He took the knife and slammed it through your forearm, on the side of it so it missed bone, making you scream as the blade went through the muscle and skin and into the wood on the other side. Your hand went limp on instinct and Cody spread your fingers with one hand, holding the other out. Another man handed him a knife and he lined it up with the base of your ring and pinky finger, smirking a little as he did. 

“Would you look at that,” he traced your wedding band and you tried to look at your hand through the blur of pain and tears. “The feral woman got hitched. You marry that animal of yours, that it?” 

You considered begging. If you thought it had even a chance at working, you’d have done it. But it didn’t.

“Fuck you,” you said instead. 

“Think this’ll make for a nice keepsake of you, if he ever comes looking,” he said, pressing the knife in just enough that you could feel it, even through the pain of the blade still lodged in your arm. “Wedding ring won’t mean much where you’re going, anyway.” 

He started cutting then, the automatic response your body had to pull away ripping and tearing against the knife holding you to the wood. You couldn’t look away from it, even though what little there was in your stomach was threatening to come up and the pain had deafened all the sound around you. You weren’t sure if you were screaming or not but you couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think as you watched part of your body be cut away. 

Cody finished, wiping the knife on your shirt - Joel’s shirt - before passing it back to one of his men. He held your bloody, jagged fingers up, turning them slowly in front of his face. You could hear again, the ragged sound of your breath and the rustle of leaves on the trees, the breeze moving through as though you weren’t being dismantled on the forest floor. 

“Think your guard dog will even still want you now?” He asked, holding them in front of you. Your blood dropped from them onto the sleeve of the shirt. “Not sure he’ll be interested in such… damaged goods.” 

You stared at the fingers in his grip in disbelief. It didn’t seem real, the things you’d used to play guitar and grip the reins of your horse and hold your husband’s hand were separate from you now. You remembered, for a moment, marrying Joel. The clarity of it was almost visceral, how he’d taken the ring that was now slick with your blood and slipped it onto the finger that was dangling before your eyes. It was a part of you then. It wasn’t now. 

Cody held his empty hand out and the man he’d given the knife to returned it. 

“No,” you shook your head, your voice wet and raspy. “Please, I…” 

“Not taking anything else,” he said, his tone almost kind. “Just going to make sure you don’t bleed out on us.” 

With that, he pressed the blade to the place he’d cut part of you away and you screamed, the metal scalding hot. You realized they must have put it in the fire, using the heat to cauterize the wound. Without warning, one of the men pulled the knife that was still in your arm free and the heated blade moved there, too. You could smell your skin burning, the man at your back holding you still as your body fought to escape the pain of it. They moved you around like a rag doll, cauterizing the other side of your arm, too, before stepping back from you. 

“There,” Cody stood, handing the knife off and taking a kerchief from his pocket, wrapping your bloody fingers in it before stashing them away. “Now you should know I’m not fucking around. Get up. We’ve wasted enough time on this shit and Mitchum won’t wait on us forever.” 

The man behind you pulled you to your feet by your shoulders and you swayed on your feet for a moment, your head swimming before you doubled over, vomiting mostly bile before your legs gave out, the man catching you before you hit the ground. 

“Shit,” Cody’s voice sounded far away. “We’ll have to find a way to move her…” 

You passed out. 

When you woke up, it was dark, a hand around your jaw. 

“There she is,” Cody said, releasing you and patting your cheek twice. “Need you up and walking, can’t trade you half dead. Move.” 

You tried to orient yourself, get some kind of understanding. You weren’t where you’d been when you’d passed out. You were on some kind of makeshift litter, your left arm and hand throbbing dully. Your hand was bandaged. Cody grabbed a fistful of your shirt, pulling you upright and you all but collapsed against him, stumbling as you tried to find your footing. The second you did, you pulled away from him. You couldn’t bear to touch him, even if that meant you ended up on the ground again. 

“Just gotta make it about 100 yards,” he nodded toward a flickering glow in the distance. “Then you’re not my problem anymore.” 

He nudged you in that direction and you moved, almost mindlessly. You weren’t strong enough to fight it. You were barely strong enough to walk. You cradled your injured arm to your body as best you could, watching as the glow of the fire drew closer. 

“Stop right there,” an unfamiliar voice said, a man coming through the trees with his rifle raised. But he lowered it as he drew closer, looking the group you were with up and down. “Cody. Starting to wonder if you weren’t going to make it.” 

“Got held up,” he said. “But I got what he’s after, if he still wants to meet.” 

The guard just jerked his head toward the fire and led the way, you trailing along behind him with Cody and his men at your back. 

The fire was in the middle of a large clearing, one with a cluster of about 20 men around it, the man you feared more than any other sitting at the back of it. 

A wide smile came over his face when he saw you, the spread of it sinister and slow. 

“Well well,” Mitchum said, getting to his feet and walking closer. He was still so much bigger than you, tall and broad and you knew just how well he could force you to do what he wanted. “The prodigal son returns, with my favorite toy no less.” 

“Told you I could get her,” Cody said, pushing you toward him. “And I believe we had an agreement.” 

“Sure, sure,” Mitchum waved him off before looking you up and down, just feet away from you now. Your head spun. “Jackson is yours when we take it down, as is anyone who survives. S’long as you remember who gave it to you.” 

Mitchum reached out, grabbing your injured hand roughly and you cried out with it as he pulled your arm toward him. 

“The fuck is this?” He held it up. “Thought I told you I wanted her intact, there’s no deal if you fucking maimed her.” 

Cody shrugged. 

“She killed two of my men,” he said.

Mitchum dropped your hand and clenched his jaw before snatching his gun from its holster and shooting Cody’s man who was at your side, making you flinch away from the sound. 

“You think I give a fuck how many of your men make it?” He asked. “You think their lives matter? Got fuckin’ news for you, theirs don’t and neither does yours so you better do a damn good job of explaining why you brought her to me damaged.” 

“She tried to take off,” Cody said, eyes darting down to the man who was dead  on the ground. “Had to do something to keep her under control. Figured you’d want her at all, even if that meant damaged.” 

Mitchum holstered the gun with a huff and pulled you away from Cody, your skin crawling where he touched you. 

“Well, she’s back where she belongs now,” he passed you off to one of his men before turning back to Cody. “Jackson’s yours, when we take it.” 

“And I want horses,” Cody said. “For my trouble.” 

Mitchum seemed to think for a moment before giving him a stiff nod. 

“Fine, three horses,” he said, waving them forward. “Take ‘em and go. Don’t want to see you again for a while or else I might change my mind.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Cody smirked before looking to you. “Told you you should have given me what I deserved.” 

You didn’t say anything. Instead you just stood there, in the hold of one of Mitchum’s henchmen, watching as the man who’d stolen your freedom rode off into the night. 

Next Chapter

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

A/N: I know it's a rough chapter but... feral!Joel?

We've only seen the beginning of him, he's about to go on a rampage like no other I can promise you that.

Also, I'm sorry for making this chapter quite so brutal. I really didn't want them to get off easy in this situation, I wanted to make sure we know that there are going to be some long term repercussions from all this - in this case, Bambi's missing fingers. They live in a brutal world and they're facing brutal things and I wanted this to be reflective of that.

Thanks for sticking with the story. I really do love you all!

[haptronym]

Hap's Adventures in Dadmight

aka “this experience was really strange so I’m going to write 6,000 words about it”.

Fandoms are bizarre. I know this, but I still keep doing the shocked Pikachu face whenever I join a new one. 

This time around, I really thought there would be no surprises. And yet, the fandom ended up having a really weird, really uncomfortable dynamic that confused the hell out of me for a long time. I met several others who said “Yeah, it freaks me out too,” but they couldn’t explain exactly why, and nobody really wanted to talk about it. So now that I’m mostly done with the My Hero Academia fandom, I’ll just go ahead and vaporize my bridges with a whole-ass case study about what on earth seemed to be going on here.

Warning: very long, very self-absorbed, as usual. Contains discussions of relationships, underage shippers, and how to influence whether something “feels” platonic vs. not.

Disclaimer 1: This doesn't apply to everything tagged "Dadmight." Just a select subset. But this subset appeared pretty consistently.

Disclaimer 2: I'm posting brief, fair-use-commentary examples of the content that made me question my sanity because it has to be seen to be believed, but I'm not including names or links because I don’t want to easily funnel negativity to them. If an author really wants me to, I’m happy to link directly to their story.

Disclaimer 3: I’m not trying to “spread awareness” or do a callout. I just like to write for fun and this time the fun was puzzling out why I, personally, had the experience I did. Many people feel differently and that's great. If all fluff has always felt 100% wonderful and charming to you, then this post isn't relevant to you. But if a supposedly "cute" story has ever made you squirm with discomfort, this might help explain why.

-

A few years ago, I took a terribly wrong turn in life and ended up in the My Hero Academia fandom. My kidnappers were these two:

In short: the little kid on the left, Izuku Midoriya, is exactly as dorky as he looks. He was born powerless in a world of comic-book superheroes and has a tendency to burst into tears under any possible circumstance. The series kicks off when the guy on the right, #1 hero and national celebrity All Might, sees potential in him despite all this. In a fit of inspiration, All Might decides to give Izuku the same chance he was given as a young boy. Despite being a notorious lone wolf, he (secretly) names Izuku as his successor and takes it upon himself to covertly train this weepy, noodle-limbed wimp into a hero, the hero, the next Symbol of Peace who will wield the world’s strongest superpower and safeguard the future of society. Surely they’ll pull it off just fine, right?

(Don’t ask how All Might switches from a bodybuilder to the skeleton pictured  above. The show doesn’t know either.)

I loved these two. I wanted eight seasons of beach training montage. The mentor/student shenanigans were hilarious and the found family potential was off the charts. They’re two awkward bumbling fools with several truckfuls of emotional baggage, brought together by purehearted heroic zeal. Wonderful.

However, I quickly discovered that the show shoveled approximately ten thousand new characters into every new episode and definitely wasn't going to slow down long enough to give me the All Might & Izuku content I craved. So I wandered off to see what kind of fanfiction was on tap.

...I wandered off, while bracing myself. I’ve been a weeb long enough to know that any characters who pass on power through “DNA” are never going to escape a fandom unscathed, regardless of pesky things like “Age Of Consent” and “Have You Watched A Single Minute Of This Show, He Would Never Fucking Do That”.

Their canon relationship is impressively alarming all on its own:

Izuku is 14-15. Underage character? Check. 

All Might is 55+. Enormous age gap? Check.

All Might is both Izuku’s secret mentor and his high school teacher. Teacher-student dynamics? Check.

Izuku is a nobody. All Might is a global celebrity. Staggering power imbalance? Check. 

Izuku’s superpower, which lets him go to the school of his dreams, accomplish his lifelong goals, and be the protagonist of this show, was given to him by All Might at great personal cost. Enormous sense of debt and obligation because of a huge sacrifice? Check.

Izuku is an outright fanboy. His room is full of posters and figurines of All Might in spandex. Other characters frequently comment on how obsessed he is. There is a whole plotline about him being so starstruck by All Might that he can’t think for himself. Literal hero worship? Check.

As the cherry on top, they spend most of the story pretending they don’t know each other and sneak around under the noses of every other character, including Izuku's mother. Secret hidden relationship with a minor that no other adult can learn the true extent of? Check. 

What a pair. Japanese fandom constantly cracks jokes about how Izuku is probably that kind of fanboy. Even official media is well aware of how sketchy it all looks:

With all this in play, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the stuff in their platonic-relationship fanfiction tag vastly outnumbered the stuff in their shipping one. Phew. Finally, a pair of characters who got something besides endless gross hornyposting. 

As I browsed, I kept seeing a certain tag: "Dadmight." This, unsurprisingly, was used by stories that decided to make All Might into Izuku’s biological father. But it was also used by... pretty much all non-shipping media that focused on their relationship. How interesting! I was used to ship pairings having nicknames, but not platonic ones. 

I could imagine why the name caught on. All Might was practically the definition of "goofy wholesome dad energy,” and his mentor/student relationship with Izuku was easy to see in a parental light. Plus, Izuku’s actual dad is never to be seen during the story. Clearly he deserves a replacement.

So I delved in. Man, this was going to be great! A huge amount of good clean platonic content, with an easy-to-find tag too. Reading about cute dadly shenanigans was going to be such a fun-

How he would love to fall asleep to the sound of his soft voice and the touch of his rough hands, telling him he was proud of him, caressing his hair. He was so mortified over having this need, for all kinds of reasons, but it became clear a long time ago that fighting it wouldn’t work, so he let himself dream.

Uh... well... Izuku didn’t grow up with a dad, so... maybe he needed a father figure... to... caress his hair with his rough hands...

More hums of contentment make their way from him, his body swaying with every push and pull from Toshinori’s long fingers. He uses them to massage Midoriya’s head, taking every moment to not just clean his hair, but to make him feel good; Toshinori can’t bear for this to be purely utilitarian.

Uhhh... okay... All Might was a rather isolated guy. I bet he appreciated being able to share time with his student... bathing time...

What if the boy would rather this stay simply as it has been, professional as mentor and mentee? What if Toshinori has read all of this wrong and the boy has no feelings above Toshinori being his teacher, and all Toshinori has done is fall harder and harder for him every day?

What was this? What exactly did people think kids got up to with their dads!?

Well, maybe I just found a few of the strange ones, I told myself. Fanfiction always has its odd outliers. But after more searching, I realized: no. There was wildly uncomfortable stuff all over. It wasn’t all Dadmight stories. But it was a lot. The most popular authors of the “Dadmight” tag wrote it and the rest of the Dadmight authors gave them big thumbs-ups. It was at least as popular as the “All Might is Izuku’s real dad” stuff and sat at the top of the kudos and comments sorting.

Were people just being polite? Or was I overreacting? I know how annoying it is when people deliberately take things in bad faith and demonize perfectly innocent human affectio—

He kept the contact to a minimum, not wanting to take advantage, not wanting to cross a single, unspoken boundary… but how could he possibly completely refrain, with both how proud and how worried Izuku made him?

There was a voice, in the back of his head, that didn’t agree. That voice – either logic or wishful thinking – told him that while Izuku didn’t initiate physical affection, he surely did lean into it, and seemed to crave receiving it as much as Toshinori craved giving it.

Oh god oh god oh god what is happening STOP—

This was horrible. I just wanted to enjoy cute fluff. I’d never had this reaction to platonic fanfic before. I’m a big found family fan and my worst issue with fluff is usually just that it tends to be kind of samey. I normally love reading about chaste affection and closeness between characters who care about each other. So why did these stories read like Lolita AUs to me? Did shippers in this fandom like to hide their softcore stuff in the platonic tags?

I was soon able to find out. I had been writing my own All Might & Izuku story, and got invited to a “Dadmight-centric” Discord server. Almost all the popular Dadmight authors were there, including the ones who wrote the particular stories that made my skin crawl. There were several channels where people brainstormed, critiqued, and discussed the motivations behind their writing. 

Cool! I’d be able to meet new people, make some friends, and get a better understanding of what the Dadmight dynamic really was. So I introduced myself, I chatted, I lurked. Everyone was really nice.

I found zero cheeky shippers. The writers claimed to be horrified by the idea of shipping the two of them. They would never disrespect the purity and innocence of this beautiful platonic relationship, they said, as they churned out stories about Izuku “coming undone” under the caress of All Might’s rough hands. Right...

I could’ve understood if this was coming from naive 14-year-olds. But some of these people were in their 30’s, with kids of their own. If anyone understood family dynamics, it should’ve been them.

But after I spent more time around the server, I began to notice something else... something which explained a ton of the strangeness. 

Baby Fever

To understand what was happening, you first have to understand that Izuku’s baby face inflicts instant brain damage on sight. I mean, look at him:

aaa his cute widdle cheeks oh my god—

This kid sets off maternal instincts like landmines, and in the Dadmight server, I found that the Izuku infantilization train had gone completely off the rails. Writers constantly cooed over the adorable antics of 2, 3, 5-year olds and constantly talked about how much they wanted to make Izuku act them out. And surely, if All Might could indulge in the parental joy of caring for an innocent young babe, then his emotional scars would be healed and he could find fulfillment outside of that pesky “saving the world” business.

Now, the bio-dadmight folks had it easy: they just wrote about Izuku in his toddler years playing with daddy All Might. The cuddling and tickles made sense and were very cute. But other writers faced a challenge: they wanted to keep him 14-15 so that canon events could occur... but they didn’t want to be left out of the fun. 

So... they decided to rationalize and egg each other on. I mean, how much does age really matter? Being a child at heart is always cute and wholesome, right?

Suddenly, a whole lot of very uncomfortable things began to make sense:

So Much Physical Contact

He loved the physical touch. It was embarrassing and he would never admit it out loud, but there wasn’t much in this world he loved more than receiving physical affection from his idol. Every single time it happened he would save the memory to replay it over and over again whenever he felt sad, or almost every night before he went to bed. He was glad no one in the dorms had a mind-reading quirk. And All Might always gave it more freely when he visited his apartment, so of course he went there.

Izuku is often written to have a near-pathological craving for hair stroking and cuddles. Which is cute when directed at, say, classmates or mom, but gets real weird real fast when directed at the adult man he canonically idolizes to a freakish degree. Ever work with teenage boys? Most of them would rather die than be physically affectionate with adults, even parents... unless, you know, they’re that kind of fanboy.

Even freakier is that the grown adult would then reply, “Hell yeah! I see nothing wrong with getting physical with this kid who worships me! I crave it so much! I can't resist!” Ever work at a school? They have rulebooks and seminars specifically about how teachers should never touch or be alone with kids.

Then again, Midnight exists at this school. Maybe U.A.’s infamous lack of safety standards extends to this too.

Either way, though: cute and wholesome for a parent to do with their three-year-old. Very creepy when a high-school teacher makes excuses about why he really needs to cuddle and stroke his fifteen-year-old student in secret.

Narcolepsy Xtreme Edition

His student was never this affectionate or vulnerable when he was conscious, so he enjoyed the moment, even if it was a short one, as he moved to his room upstairs.

If you’ve read fanfiction for more than seven seconds, you’ve probably seen the “cram the character with booze/painkillers until they blurt out Vulnerable Things” plot device. It’s a beloved classic. But Izuku writers are robbed of the alcohol angle since he’s underage, and morphine is pretty niche. So authors who want to use this trick often just make Izuku tired after a long day, conclude that being sleepy is close enough to being five drinks in, and have him murmur “thanks, DAD... OOPS DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD???” to awkwardly segue into Familial Confessions.

But quite a few stories took the “sleepy” angle to a new, very odd place. Instead of groggily dispensing convenient confessions, Izuku would just... keel over while doing homework and be utterly dead to the world. And instead of having All Might briefly rouse him to shoo him to bed, or worry about his student suddenly becoming catatonic, the writers would make him eerily fixated on the opportunity to physically carry Izuku to his bedroom (which would somehow not wake him up!!!) and tuck him in while waxing poetic about how vulnerable and helpless he looked. 

Before joining the Dadmight server, I was mildly alarmed whenever I saw this, wondering why so many authors were obsessed with roofying the teenager and making the adult fondle him. But after joining, I realized: they were just trying to act out the cutesy aww-the-two-year-old-fell-sound-asleep-while-playing, it’s-so-cute scenes that all those darned lucky bio-dadmight people got to indulge in so easily.

Bed Sharing

It wasn’t long before Izuku’s breathing slowed, and soon he was asleep, snoring peacefully. Toshinori, after a few minutes of debating with himself, said screw it and got into the bed with the boy.

Cue me SCREAMING internally in confusion and fear. But no, it was just that the cutesy-kid-trope obsession stretched all the way to “Well, I used to snuggle with my parents at night after I had a nightmare! It was super wholesome!” Which led to scores of stories featuring a celebrity crawling into bed with his student.

All in all, joining this server was a huge relief. I was so glad to see that these hair-raising scenarios were just the result of the authors forgetting to mention “Oh, by the way, the characters are acting weird because we made them all agree to participate in preschooler roleplay.”

Just picture this while reading and it all makes sense.

Fanfic is uniquely susceptible to this sort of “forgot to mention this strange dynamic that I take for granted” issue. After all, 99% of fanfic doesn’t bother to waste time asking “would this make any sense to someone who had never watched the show?” It’s not worth it to focus on such a broad audience. As a result, fanfic normalizes skipping huge swaths of context that would normally be mandatory in a story. Fanfic authors don’t have to practice asking themselves “did I explain this properly?” anywhere near as often as original fiction ones.

This would be bad enough on its own, but then, we go cloister ourselves away into little sub-fandom echo chambers, and spend months crafting obscure in-joke fractals, and get so absorbed in our tiny myopic corners of the community that we also fail to ask, “would this make any sense to someone who hasn’t spent the last 5 months marinating in this specific Discord channel?” 

Sometimes we know exactly how niche our stuff is and just don’t care. But too often, we just legitimately suck at guessing how our work might come off to other groups. We don’t have to practice theory of mind as much as original fiction authors do. Our fandom buddies see nothing amiss with our writing (since they know all the server insider lore!) and everyone outside our tiny clique politely ignores our word salad... so we never get proper feedback on how incomprehensible our work can be even to other members of the same fandom.

In this case, this resulted in a whole pack of writers seemingly getting lost in the fluff sauce and completely forgetting to address the fact that the stuff men do with their own five-year-olds generally becomes really weird and creepy when done with someone else’s 15-year-old, whether or not the 15-year-old seems to want it. Izuku was a cute widdle innocent baby in their heads, so they assumed he was a cute widdle innocent baby in everyone else's.

Once I realized where they were coming from, it wasn't so hard to adjust my mental framework and enjoy these stories on their own terms. That said... infantilization still couldn't explain stuff like “What if Toshinori has read all of this wrong and the boy has no feelings above Toshinori being his teacher, and all Toshinori has done is fall harder and harder for him every day?”

To explain why that paragraph makes me want to crawl out of my skin, we first need to answer: what makes a piece of writing feel “questionable?”

“Vibes,” A Primer

Love comes in many forms. The big four are platonic, familial, romantic, and sexual. Sexual is easy: you’re horny for the person. Platonic love is specifically non-sexual, and familial love is a subset of platonic love. Romance usually implies horny, though there’s definitely a difference between outright sexual behavior and the behavior we file under the “romance” label.

There’s also a difference between romantic and platonic behavior. And this is where a lot of “questionable” vibes appear: when you’d expect an interaction between two people to be platonic, but for some reason, it has uncomfortable romantic/sexual overtones instead.

But what causes those overtones? A dad can give his kid a kiss on the head, and it comes off platonic. A suitor can give their crush a kiss on the head, and it comes off romantic. In fact, most romantic gestures have nearly identical platonic counterparts. Kissing, hugging, hand-holding, cuddling, vulnerable confessions. So what gives? What makes something “come off” one way or the other?

The actual answer is: a ton of stuff, most of it subjective. Everyone draws their lines in different places, based on culture and personal experience and how gutterbrained you’re feeling on any given day. A lot of it has to do with context (that thing that us fanfic authors are notoriously bad at judging).

Online wars are fought every day about whether some glance or gesture or phrase means they're "totally into each other fr"

But if you want to draw broad strokes, one way to roughly separate platonic vs romantic love is by gauging the level of passion involved. “Passion” is “a strong and barely controllable emotion that compels action.” That last part is key. 

Stereotypical romantic love is incredibly passionate. It’s all about desire to act, desire to change, desire to progress the relationship to something more. It features overwhelming anxious preoccupation about the other person’s thoughts and opinions, feeling irresistibly drawn to them, feeling intense longing. It’s about confessing and hoping the other person also feels the same. It often involves attempting to label the relationship, make it “official”, and show it off. It’s about trying desperately to secure assurance that this love will last forever and ever. You have to do something, and every moment spent not doing something is torture.

Contrast this to typical depictions of platonic and familial love. Familial love is calm, encompassing, soothing. It’s secure. You don’t have to worry, because no matter what rough patches you go through, they’ll always be your family and will always have unconditional love for you. Yes, you’ll fly into action if your loved one is threatened, but at rest, platonic love is generally not “exciting” and there’s generally little sense of urgency.

Romance is usually an insecure, anxious thing that’s trying to get to that secure, grounded familial stage. That’s why people say they progress from being “in love” to just “loving” one another. Romance draws people together and kickstarts the bonding process. And as the steady, mature bond of a long-term relationship forms, the obsessive mania of romantic infatuation fades away. 

So the difference between platonic and romantic behavior is not so much about the actual actions. It’s more about the mentality. Is the person anxiously trying to secure their partner’s affection while treating the relationship as a really big deal that will make or break their lives? Then their affectionate actions may come off more romantic. Are they seemingly at home in their partner’s presence and not trying to deepen or change the relationship? Then their affection will probably come off more familial or platonic.

There are, of course, a ton of things that go into it besides this, and caveats out the ass. For example, people trying to establish a new friendship are often anxious too. But when it comes to determining the “vibes” of a kiss or a cuddle, this can be a useful litmus test. Failing this test is often what makes something feel Questionable. The characters seem too invested... maybe because it's not truly innocent.

Now, let’s take a look at our Dadmight characters.

The biggest challenge of writing familial closeness between Izuku and All Might is simple: they are not family. They have no long shared history to justify any sort of intimacy. Instead they have a teacher/student relationship that places them both into rigid, frigid roles. 

Usually, familial-style bonding just takes time. You wait a few seasons, the characters slowly get closer and learn to trust one another, and eventually they’re hugging. But these two clowns spent the whole show being the ultimate found-family blue-balls experience. They were just never very emotionally open or touchy-feely. Every time they had the chance for Vulnerable Conversation And Cuddles, they passed it up in favor of a pep talk and a fist bump. It took a near-death experience to extract one (1) brief hug and some tears. But in normal everyday life? Arm’s length.

Literally. For example: after five seasons of bonding and character development, they are separated and Izuku is embroiled in a deadly conflict that almost destroys the world. When they finally reunite after the harrowing ordeal, alone under the starlight, they greet each other with a loving, heartfelt… handshake. This, predictably, spawned furious fix-it fic.

Overall, there is a huge gulf that authors need to cross in order to get these two from “polite handshake” to “tender cuddling and kisses.” They could write 50,000 words of setup to slowly accomplish this, but most authors did not want to wear their fingertips to the bone just to inch these two into an embrace. They wanted to jump the gap within a oneshot, leaping from canon frigidity into an unbreakable lifelong familial love that was also super touchy-feely and extremely vocal.

Now, remember what I was just saying? How romance is generally about trying to establish new family bonds? How it’s all about trying to change the relationship into something more?

Knowing all this, what do you think might happen if an author tried to speedrun two characters to the Family Finish Line as fast as they could? What do you think their shortcuts might end up looking like, completely by accident? Especially if their “sane and appropriate human interactions” gauge was warped by an echo chamber of fluff tropes and baby fever?

You might get:

Was it even possible that his feelings could be reciprocated? Toshinori didn’t want to think about it. It would just pain him more. Young Midoriya only saw him as an idol, a mentor who would help him train his body for One for All. Midoriya did not see him in the way he wanted him to.

Or:

He wanted desperately, desperately to have the courage to cross that threshold, to ask him what he longed for, to ask him for that relationship that he dared not voice.

Or even:

Toshinori feels his heart rate pick up and his gnarled stomach twist with nerves. Is he really going to do this? Is he going to tell this boy what he truly thinks and risk everything they’ve built up together over the past year-plus? His palms are sweating and he wipes them on his suit pants, rubbing the pads of his fingers together.

I'll stop now. The point is that these quotes could all have been word-for-word ripped from a romance novel. These are some industrial-grade Questionable Vibes. And reading them in context really doesn't help that much, for me at least. It's almost comical when they throw in "...I crave the touch of your rough hands as a son! A SON!"

If you know the building blocks of romance, it makes perfect sense why stories like this could come off this way. Platonic love is great, but it’s also stable, calm, and slow. It simply doesn’t have the sheer explosive force needed to catapult two stilted dorks into a brand-new dynamic within 2,000 words. Most stories can only achieve that kind of mileage via near-death experiences... or by inflicting the characters with neurotic infatuation.

Not only that, but their canon relationship is uniquely poised to set off romance-adjacent warning bells. Because they are not actually family, it makes sense for them to yearn for a deeper relationship in a way that a normal family wouldn’t. It makes sense for them to be anxious and insecure about their relationship, because it’s a very strange, hard-to-define thing that has to be kept secret from those around them. And it makes sense for them to consider their relationship a huge deal, because in canon, it’s fundamental to the most important aspects of both their lives.

I actually think it’s kind of inevitable that their character dynamic will sometimes stray into places that feel romantic. But that doesn’t mean the writer is a secret shipper... because I don’t think that passion always has to imply sexual desire, especially in fiction.

I’ve spent some time around the asexuality community, and my biggest takeaway was that sexual desire is very different from the desire to make deep, lifelong connections. Most asexual people still yearned to find that special someone, their anchor, a partner who unconditionally loved them and would stay by their side forever. Family. They would fall for people... they just didn’t want to fall into their pants. But it was almost impossible to keep these partners unless they were asexual too. Every one eventually pushed to “take things further,” or they left to find another person who would. 

So I can understand the yearning for a world where sex is kicked to the curb, where two strangers can find each other and share intense, whirlwind, “you’re my #1” love... without any lewd overtones. This little pocket of stories seemed like a manifestation of that yearning. 

Nowadays, more and more stories are taking previously romance-exclusive intimacy and yanking off the sexual baggage. For example, looking on the Dadmight tag will reveal “platonic soulmates” and “platonic hanahaki” stories. Yes, platonic hanahaki. No, not parody. There’s a clear unironic market for this content. People really want to be able to indulge in passionate, “till death do us part” emotional bonding in a safe, nonsexual way.

All Might and Izuku sit in a unique place. Not related, but powerfully linked by something thicker than blood. And their relationship is easy to paint as “safe”. It makes perfect sense that these two would attract creators who want to explore this hard-to-define chaste side of passionate love.

In real life, passionate obsessive-style attraction between adults and kids is a huge red flag. We can never really know whether those feelings are innocent or healthy. 99% of the time, they’re not. But in fiction, the author gets to choose what people really feel and whether things turn out well. They can explore the most unbelievable scenario of all: not a world where everyone is a mermaid, but a world where it’s actually wholesome and healing for a high school teacher and his student to confess their deep, undying love for one another, where a famous celebrity can secretly invite his obsessed underage fan over, stroke his hair, tell him how special their relationship is, and sleep with him in bed, without it ending up on Law and Order: SVU. 

On Critique

“Hap,” you might be thinking, “surely these stories can’t be as bad as you say. If they were, someone would have pointed it out to these poor souls. You should have pointed it out to these poor souls. You were in their writing server for chrissakes, and now you’re gossiping about them like a heartless goblin.”

First: yes, I'm a goblin. Second: I did bring this topic up to several Dadmight authors one-on-one. After getting a bunch of head-in-sand excuses in response, I decided to just quietly munch popcorn and watch the fandom’s antics unfold like a slow-motion train wreck.

Third: people did try to point this stuff out.

It was fascinating to watch the Dadmight server whenever someone posted a comment expressing concern. Some comments were trolls trying to get a reaction, of course. But others were very gentle: “hey, isn't it kind of weird to have them hop into bed together? It comes off kind of shippy...” I learned that the reason I had never seen comments like these in the past was because they were usually quickly deleted by the fic authors.

After deleting a comment, the author would often flee to the server for reassurance. The other users would agree that the commenter was definitely in the wrong, since they could see absolutely nothing questionable about the writer’s story. Someone would inevitably chime in saying that, oh, one time they got a comment calling things questionable like that, and it turned out to be from a shipper who shipped bad things. So, you know, anyone who sees shipping in things is probably just a bad person.

Phew. Crisis averted. If you can successfully paint the critic as a bad person, then there’s no need to descend into existentialist dread as you’re forced to critically reexamine the foundational concepts of your writing and your grasp on relationship dynamics.

(Credit where credit is due: one of the rules of this particular server was not to bash or insult people who like things you don't like. In most groups this is followed with an unspoken "...unless you can clutch your pearls over it", but to my surprise, when stuff like the above started kicking off, the moderators did step in to remind people to keep it civil. So, good job, mods. More maturity than I usually see in online spaces.)

But still, if anyone actually bothers to read this long screed, I already know what certain responses are going to look like. They’ll smugly assert that people who see questionable things are just sex-obsessed weirdos, projecting their icky lewd thoughts onto every innocent interaction they come across. A morally pure person wouldn’t make such gross assumptions.

I’m familiar with this kind of response because I’ve spent a lot of time around another group that responds the exact same way to these kinds of concerns. That group is known as fundamentalist Christians, and their attitude fosters three things:

People are afraid to speak out when they feel uncomfortable, because they don't want to be accused of being dirty-minded. 

People fail to learn the ground rules of normal romance/sexuality and so fail to recognize red flags.

The community is absolutely infested with creeps who take advantage of points 1 and 2 to run rampant.

Sadly, these three things also seem to be true in the Dadmight community. Being a platonic pairing, it naturally attracts people uninterested in and inexperienced with romantic/sexual relationships. And then the vitriolic, derisive responses to people’s concerns teaches them that it’s wrong to bring up those topics around the community at all.

And so, point 3 blooms. I eventually confirmed that my initial suspicions were correct: shippers did camp in the Dadmight tag, and they got away with posting some impressively brazen softcore underage content in public, presumably because even the people who were suspicious knew that going “hey now” would trigger a circular firing squad. 

The Dadmight community wasn’t clueless about this problem. They were incredibly paranoid as a whole. They knew there were bad actors lurking in their tag, but since they had disabled all their own safety alarms and expanded the definition of “platonic” to a ridiculous extreme, they had no way of being able to determine what was shipping and what was not until characters started actively whipping their dicks out. I saw constant fretting over whether it was okay to click the “like” button on an affectionate-looking piece of fanart without knowing for sure the intentions of the creator. But asking intentions was pointless anyway, since shippers just lied to them and then laughed as the platonic group eagerly ate up their evil, dirty-minded content.

I get why these “wait, that feels shippy...” comments feel like attacks. It’s fucking awful when your intentions are pure but someone interprets them in such a horrifying, disgusting way. It feels disrespectful when you clearly label something “platonic” but people still doubt. 

But remember: Going from “mentor” to “dad” with these two generally means breaking down normal boundaries, to escalate the emotional and physical intimacy between an authority figure and a starstruck, needy, vulnerable kid, because they have such a special and unique bond that no one else understands. So special, in fact, that it needs to be kept secret from the public.

In real life, this scenario is known as Groomer Tactics 101. 

Seriously, stop and read that link. It’s short and non-explicit. This is why I called their canon relationship “impressively alarming”—the bullet points of stages 1-3 describe Izuku and All Might nearly word-for-word. This does not mean I’m claiming All Might is a groomer, or that Izuku and All Might’s relationship is bad. Just that, due to their circumstances, they happen to have all the building blocks of relationships that go horribly wrong. All that separates their scenario from tumbling into Bad is the goals of the adult. So when a fanfic then comes along and makes the adult suddenly really interested in excessive touching? And the only reason he gives is “I’m weirdly drawn to this kid and touching them feels really good”? Of course people will get nervous!

Noticing this does not mean someone is “obsessed with shipping”. It means they’re a normal human being with eyes. Accusing someone of being problematic for making the most obvious possible observations about adult/child interactions is like accusing someone of being an arsonist because they embarrassed you by pointing out that your homemade backyard fireworks setup is halfassed and dangerous.

This does not mean it’s wrong to write wish-fulfillment where escalating to bed cuddles actually turns out great and awesome. But it does mean that, if an author writes it ignorantly or carelessly, they risk coming off like they’re glorifying and normalizing Groomer Tactics 101. It’s the same as when careless Twilight fans glorify and normalize stuff that, in real life, is abusive controlling boyfriend behavior.

Yes, it sucks when people come and yuck the yum. I’m sure the Twilight fans also get sick of people who complain and demonize them instead of letting them write their vampire boyfriend fantasies in peace. But the concern usually comes from a well-meaning place. 

Proudly announcing “I ignore the most basic child/adult red flags because they ruin my fun” is not the flex that some people think it is. I highly recommend people reconsider before they try to paint anti-child-groomers as the bad guys.

The Recipe

So, let’s summarize how to reproduce the Dadmight phenomenon. It starts with a canon relationship that has the most enticing found-family building blocks the world has ever seen: a downtrodden kid who really needs a dad + a lonely heroic mentor. However, their canon relationship also sits on top of a powder keg, coincidentally featuring all the “setup” stages of the sexual grooming model: 

a lonely, low-self-esteem kid

singled out by an esteemed, charismatic adult who is a pillar of the community

sharing a “special” relationship

constantly going off alone and keeping secrets 

A platonic fan community forms that is blissfully unaware of the above dynamics. They head off to fluff echo chambers, as platonic fans do. But due to the crybaby tendencies of the teenage character, they start projecting really aged-down toddler-play scenarios onto him. Eventually, as echo-chambered fans do, they decide that contextualization is for chumps. This results in fics that take the powder keg and add:

The adult craving to touch and hold the teenager

The teenager craving touch from the adult and mewling like a kitten when his hair is stroked (I’m not fucking joking)

Completely age-inappropriate stuff like stroking, kisses, and sharing a bed with a teenage student

Izuku and All Might also happen to suffer from loneliness and isolation, even more so in their fanon incarnations. This really resonates with most fans, who want to soothe and heal them. They also want to get to the healing cuddles within a few chapters instead of wasting time on super-slow buildup. So they make the two of them really strongly fixate on and angst about the agony of their loneliness, and how the other person’s love is the only cure that will fix them. In doing so, they insert:

Anxious passionate obsession

Love confessions

Coming-out scenes

Craving for exclusive relationship labels

Desire for exclusivity

Lastly, because platonic groups are either uninterested in or too young for spicy content, they tend to have very little experience with romantic/sexual literature and the tropes and catchphrases they lay claim to. So fic writers will innocently sprinkle in poignant-sounding things they’ve picked up here and there, such as:

Blushing and heart racing when looking at the person

The phrase “falling for each other”

The man “caressing” his partner with “rough hands”

“He came undone”

And because their communities condemn people who “read into things”, nobody points out any of this shit, and it all slides out into the public Internet unquestioned.

And so, we get the most impressively uncomfortable platonic content I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder I had never encountered something like this before. It required a lot of unusual circumstances intersecting in just the right (wrong) way.

In the end, I think the biggest aspect was just that I'd never become a fan of characters that had such a potentially-problematic canon relationship. Usually adult and kid characters have very different dynamics, so if fics treat their social interactions with all the tact of a bull in a china shop, it just comes off as lazy instead of creepy. I'd be interested to know if other platonic adult&child fandoms suffer from this issue.

In any case, although it was fascinating to watch, I sure hope I never run into it again.

[frozenbluecookies]

So before I watched Bridgerton, I heard people complaining about Edwina. And actually, now I think about it, I don't think I heard anyone say anything nice about her.

So I went into season 2 bracing myself for whatever was coming to make me dislike her, and now that i've seen it.....

I don't understand??? Why do people hate on this girl?! I love her!

Far as I can see, her only crime is being naive and inexperienced. And considering how young she is, I really don't think we can criticise her too harshly for that. She's not intentionally malicious, she's genuinely sweet and loves her family.

Yeah she goes off in episode 6 and 7 but tbh I think she was justified there. Can't imagine how I'd react if I was engaged to a guy who I thought I was in love with, and who I thought loved me, and then I realised at my wedding, at the altar, that actually he's in love with my sister, and she with him. And then to find out that not only did they not tell me, half the people around me figured it out and then also hid it from me. I honestly think her reaction there is perfectly understandable. And once the emotions have settled and she and Kate have talked it out properly, she's very forgiving, and actively encourages Kate to pursue her happiness with Anthony.

Someone explain why people don't like her, I'm genuinely confused

[nitewrighter]

Re: Lois in episode 2, I don’t think Clark ever *told* Lois that all the Kryptonians are dead???? And the only experience she’s ever had with opening Kryptonian portals was immediate invasion. And if she doesn’t know that there aren’t really any left *to* invade? Her fear seems incredibly reasonable for the information she has.

This version of Clark can not communicate to save his life. And I think a big part of why Lois is constantly putting her foot in her mouth is because she’s going off half the information at any given time.

They both mean well, but their character flaws are bumping against each other in REALLY interesting ways and I’m excited to see where it goes.

Yeah no exactly! Like, we, as viewers, have had months to pore over details and imagine all the therapyspeak-riddled hurt/comfort conversations Clark should have with his friends (*cough* my closing Clois conversation in 'Scoops!', for example), but in the actual show, IT'S ONLY BEEN THREE MONTHS SINCE THANKSGIVING AND EVERYONE IS SO CAUGHT UP IN OVERWHELMING SHIT THAT THEY BARELY HAVE TIME TO ARTICULATE THEIR OWN FEELINGS TO THEMSELVES, LET ALONE EACH OTHER. And also because Superman is such a big pop icon of course we as the viewers are more inclined to be like "Noooo Krypton's not eeeeevil! Clark, Lois, it's not eeeeeevil!"

And honestly--while I'm talking about Krypton--I've read enough Byrne and Bronze age comics where I'm in the space that I'm not completely opposed to a more messy and morally complex Krypton--I don't mind a Krypton that's as flawed as we are, and we're pretty fucking flawed! I feel like everyone's so inclined to view a problematic Krypton as like, "See! This writer is saying that Krypton had X, Y, Z problems, so this writer is arguing that it deserved to be blown up!" And it's like... no??? No one deserves to be blown up just because their society is flawed??? Have we not been paying attention to Superman, the "I do literally everything I can to protect Life regardless of how shitty and cruel it can be" superhero??? Do you not see Krypton's flaws as a natural exploration of sci-fi concepts because it's "a world of tomorrow?"

This is also why the YA House of El graphic novel duology is good, because it's basically two teens going, "Oh shit, Krypton's kind of Bene Gesserit'd itself into a corner--we got so caught up in creating a perfect society that we've actually created massive inequities" and it only makes them want to save their world more because they're made aware of how much they have to live for even outside the confines of societal expectations. Like--flaws in a person or in a society shouldn't instantly activate your "Kill it with fire" instincts--which I'm realizing probably has pretty heavy implications regarding the fact that Superman has heat vision--He can perceive and destroy in an instant, he can destroy through perception, but he makes the constant choice not to.

...this got off-track from your ask. Yeah I'm simultaneously looking forward to and bracing myself for the inevitable Clois drama this season.

[khruschevshoe]

OFMD Critique: Izzy Hands, "Burying Your Cripples," and That Fucking Finale

(Note: this is a cleaned-up/expanded version of a post I made earlier regarding disability rep in this show bc I was chatting with @itswhatyougive and @notthewriteryourelookingfor about "Burying Your Gays" and the parallels with the "Burying Your Cripples" trope in media, which is often more insidious because people are less primed to notice it and call it out.

Also, although I am analyzing a trope in media in the most unbiased way I can, I am going to get angry. Because this is a show that did its job at making us care about its characters and their portrayals and you can't get mad at me that I did just that.)

On a fourth note when it comes to the problems with the writing in this season of ofmd...the handling of disability. Because good God.

To preface this before anyone jumps down my throat about getting upset: I am disabled myself, both physically and mentally. I carry a small laundry list of mild to moderate conditions that impair my daily functions. I understand what it is like to desire to see characters that carry disabilities similar and dissimilar to my own onscreen. I also understand that there ARE multiple disabled characters in OFMD (ex. Jackie with her wooden hand, Ed with his knee brace, Pete with his cleft palate, Lucius with his mentioned bad back/wooden finger). I UNDERSTAND that these were all generally handled decently well, incorporated without drawing attention to them (although the disappearance of Ed's knee brace was strange to me in season 2, even that I could get with bc personally I only need to use my cane when my knee flares bad and can walk perfectly normally the rest of the time without an aid).

Which is all to say: the way that Izzy's death was written is insidiously (likely unconsciously, but still) ableist. His entire arc this season revolves around community and recovering from trauma and accepting himself both in a queer sense and a DISTINCTLY DISABLED sense. The way he remarks upon his own disability and his acceptance of himself and the way that the show is written to have his crew member ACCOMODATE him joyfully as an EXPLICIT SYMBOL OF LOVE was a breath of fresh air when it comes to disabled characters. I also enjoyed the way that he pokes fun at it occasionally in the same way that I do with my coworkers/friends (joking "oh really, you're going to ask an invalid to do that?" *gestures at my cane*).

But that ending. God, that fucking ending. *vehemently taps table* The fact that this character who opens up, who is accepted for both sides of his identity after dragging himself through the fucking pits over them, is killed. BECAUSE HIS MOBILITY AID COULD BE SEEN BY THE ENEMY. BECAUSE HE WAS SEEN AS UNIQUELY VULNERABLE. And then they FUCKING PULL HIS MOBILITY AID, the very symbol of his acceptance, from his FUCKING BODY SO HE CANNOT BE BURIED WHOLE?

I'm sorry. I really am. I don't mean to get furious about this. But as a disabled person who saw such hope in this character, who saw a storyline about a part of myself that is rarely displayed onscreen (that slow acceptance of the part of yourself you considered broken + the acknowledgement of love by your family/community in the form of loving accommodation without complaint), this hurt me at a very primal level that I didn't know I could be hurt at.

Bringing this back around to the "Burying Your Cripples" trope: the reason why an ending like this is so horrifying is because it is very much telling you that you can have a healing arc, that you can finally find yourself accommodation and acceptance, and it doesn't matter. Your disability will be the thing that kills you.

To people who say that this ending is justified because sometimes death is just random like that, that saying that death makes healing not worth it, I get what you're saying. In real life, of course you're right.

But this is a CLOSED NARRATIVE. It is a story with BEATS that MATTER, made of decisions by writers who had to purposefully decide to put scenes together. There's a reason they're called "arcs"- they're supposed to aim at a specific point. IF YOU LET EVERY CHARACTER IN A SHOW LIVE THROUGH THINGS THAT SHOULD HAVE KILLED THEM EXCEPT FOR THE DISABLED CHARACTER, YOU ARE MAKING A FUCKING POINT WHETHER YOU REALIZE IT OR NOT. Izzy's death is not showing "random chance" or "the risks of piracy"- HE DIED BECAUSE HIS MOBILITY AID WAS VISIBLE.

Lemme repeat that: costume concepts showed that the original design of Izzy's naval outfit covered his wooden hoof. It was a conscious decision to have the shot of the naval officer looking down at Izzy's leg, at his exposed leg, and pinpointing him as the weak one despite there being entire scenes dedicated to showing that he was still as strong as the rest of them. In a show where the budget and runtime was restricted, not a single shot or costume decision was on accident. They had to pay more to green screen in that leg.

If Castiel went to superhell because of his gay confession for Dean, then I cannot think of a clearer way to Bury Your Cripples than having Izzy die because someone saw his mobility aid.

Do I think they did this on purpose? Well, no more on purpose than David Jenkins looking at Izzy's Hayes-Code-era gay coding/arc and saying that he knew that Izzy would have to die because that's what characters like that do. No more on purpose than saying that the mentor character had to die because that's what characters like that do.

Izzy's disability was visible, was the cause of his death, because "that's what happens" to pirates who gain disabilities. They are weaker. They are more at risk.

I'm sorry, but fuck that.

Fuck the idea that in a show that created a careful space in its narrative (for a season and a half at least) for queerness to be treated ahistorically kindly, that often disregarded geographic, historical, and medical accuracy to tell a compelling story, and that purposefully provided racial and body diversity while calling out racism, that the disabled character getting offed is a "kind ending." It's not. It never has been. And I'm tired of accepting that sort of thing.

I am SO GLAD that fanfic exists with better depictions of disabled arcs/endings in OFMD bc I don't know if I could recover otherwise. Hope my fellow disabled folk out there are recovering as well, and that they understand that there is positivity to be made out of poison- it just wasn't what the finale gave us.

[randomnsme]

Back To You: Part 1

Summary: Caitlin's life changed more than she could imagine in the past 2 years. She went from being the hometown hero to the topic of sports across the country. All the success was great but it cost her a lot in life and especially love. Exes and relationships have never been Caitlin's strong suit.

Caitlin Clark x Reader

Warnings: Angst, smut, fluff, drinking/partying, language

Caitlin's POV

I thought the off season was supposed to be relaxing and give me the chance to breathe for the first time in two years, but instead I'm here getting my hair and makeup done for yet another event. At least this time it wasn't just for the money, I was actually getting my Time Athlete of the Year award and celebrating the. release of the cover. My glassy eyes stare back at me in the mirror as I try to find my thoughts. I've been overthinking more than ever before which only leads to a lack of sleep, which doesn't help the migraines.

"Fuck," I groan, reaching for my coffee. My sip is interrupted as I get a notification my phone.

4:47: Hey, I heard you're in nyc for ur award. wanna meet up?

I smirk and wait a few minutes before texting back

4:53: U know I'm always down babe. when and where?

I know I have a boyfriend, well sorta, but the truth is, I just can't be bothered to pretend in all aspects of my life anymore. Lying is exhausting and pretending to be in a relationship was making it worse. I didn't necessarily tell Connor that I'm into girls, but he and pretty much everyone else in my life already know. I guess we both just pretend that we're not having affairs left and right.

I finish getting dressed and get all my stuff together before the car comes to pick everyone up. My parents flew out for the event since my brothers and friends couldn't make it. It's a weird feeling, being lonely when everyone knows you. I go from the stark contrast of screaming fans to lonely silence in my apartment. Most of my friends are on different time zones, or they're just busy so having people to talk to and hang out with away from work is a lot harder than it was in college.

The ride to the event was relatively quiet. My parents sat on my right side as I lean against the door, looking out the window. I felt a rare moment of peace as we're driven through the streets of downtown Manhattan. As an Iowa kid, I always had a romanticized view of New York and I've never been disappointed. I feel myself snap out of my peaceful gaze as some cameras start to flash as the car slows to a stop. I take a deep breath and brace myself for my least favorite thing in the world (besides cats). Someone opens the car door and I step out at a barrage of cameras as I walk down the red carpet. I force a smile for the cameras as we all walk into the building.

The whole even was filled with the same scripted gimmicks as usual. I probably wouldn't hate making these appearances so much if I were allowed to say the things I actually want to say instead of sticking to some PR script. So much of my life has just turned into a media show and I want out. Since I can't just quit my job or drop out of my life, I've got other ways to escape for a while. My parents decided they were going out for dinner, so I got my own ride back to the hotel. I check my phone and text her back.

9:02: I'm heading back to my hotel now if u wanna come by.

I send her my location and close my eyes for the rest of the ride.

When I get back to my hotel room, I throw my phone on the charger and hop in the shower. Since I've moved to Indiana, I've started taking showers in the dark. They both help my migraines and also just make a better environment to enjoy a nice hot shower. I let the water run through my hair and down my body as it washes off the soap. I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I wrap myself in a towel and turn on one of the smaller lights. I'm not sure how long I've been in here, so I speed up the process just in case. I run through my routine: brush my teeth, dry my hair, moisturize and cut my nails.

I step out the bathroom and check my phone.

9:09: I'll be there in an hour

I like the text and open the mini bar. I sift through the bottles until I find what I'm looking for. Grey Goose Vodka. I pop open the bottle and pour a few shots and down them.

"Damn," I sip my coke and sit on the bed, "that burns more than usual."

I get a towel from the bathroom and set it on the side table along with some things from the suitcase that's always locked. After I set up in room, close the blinds and dim the lights, my phone rings...

[arminreindl]

Prehistoric Planet Croc Ideas

So this was a thing I did on Twitter in anticipation of Prehistoric Planet. Obviously crocs (in this case meaning crocodylomorphs) were a pretty massive part of earth's fauna during the late Cretaceous, and seeing as the first season featured NONE I came to speculate which taxa could hypothetically make an appearance. Now part of the challenge for myself was to come up with a new, interesting contender every day in anticipation of the show's release, each based around the confirmed episides we had and restricted purely to taxa from the Campanian and Maastrichtian. While it took a lot of energy, I did manage to do so. Hell, halfway through they dropped the reveal of Simosuchus, which I had saved for later.

Obviously we didn't get much still, but I'll regardless post my list of candidates and ideas here, perhaps third time's the charme for a lot of these (tho for convenience I'm still ordering them by S2s episode titles). I'll also try to break them apart roughly by biome, starting with islands. PS: I'd love to hear which crocs people would have loved to see themselves. Any on this list or stuff I didn't even mention? Let me know I'm curious.

We got a shit ton of island crocs from the Cretaceous actually, which you can broadly divide into two categories. The crocodiles of the European archipelago as seen in the top row. Featuring the small, possibly shellfish eating Acynodon (art by Adramelech89), the incredibly widespread Allodaposuchus which did have some possibly semi-terrestrial forms (art by Alejandro Blanco, Aina and Agnès Amblás) and Aprosuchus, a tiny terrestrial critter from Hateg (art by @knuppitalism-with-ue). They already give a nice diversity between tiny durophages with blunt snouts, large, more traditional crocs and lanky land species.

The other island category concerns Madagascar, which had a lot of attention in season 2. Discounting Simosuchus, we got Araripesuchus tsangatsangana (art by Scott Hartman) and Mahajangasuchus (art by Mark Hallet). Both are really cool. The former is yet another smaller terrestrial species that may not actually be part of Araripesuchus, while the later is a massive, 4 meter relative of the famous Kaprosuchus that took to the water independently from all other crocs and has been nicknamed "Hippo croc" for its weird skull. Really I'd have loved to seen an episode entirely dedicated to this place.

Next up we had the badlands episode, which oh boy has a lot of contenders from the clade Notosuchia. Brace yourself.

Here again I could split these in two categories. The first is just general badland taxa. There's Ogresuchus for example, from Spain's Tremp Formation (art by Aina and Agnès Amblás). A relatively small sebecid found in a sauropod nesting site. And we all know what PhP does with baby sauropods. Or the long-necked Gobiosuchus (art by @yoofilos) from Mongolia, which may look like its related to the other ones in this category but actually is a far more ancient type of croc.

The far bigger group concerns South America's Notosuchians. ALL OF THESE are from the Bauru Group, with some even from the same single formation. You got Stratiotosuchus (again by Joschua Knüppe), a large terrestrial baurusuchid that filled the nische of mid sized carnivore in an environment shared by sauropods and abelisaurs. There's Pissarrachampsa (by Felipe Alves Elias), another baurusuchid I decided to feature because we have evidence of a nesting site that shows they only had few eggs. A great opportunity to show their tender side. Uberabasuchus (justin_an74), part of the bizzarly proportioned peirosaurids. Adamantinasuchus (by Deverson da Silva), a small, lanky Notosuchian and of course the heavily armored omnivore Armadillosuchus (by the ever talented Júlia d'Oliveira). Hell you could do a full episode just on the foodweb of the Bauru Group (Godoy et al. 2014).

Then there's swamps, which I'll just use to dump all the crocs that don't fit into the other categories.

As you'd expect, freshwater would be ideal for crocs with a more traditional semi-aquatic lifestyle, here represented by three forms. Jiangxisuchus (image by Li et al. 2014) is a paralligatorid, which are tiny crocodilians from the Cretaceous and Paleogene of east Asia. We honestly don't know what they are, some say alligator relatives, others say they are closer to crocs. But its small and cute. Then there's Roxochampsa (artist of the model I couldn't find), which looks suspiciously crocodilian but is actually a relative of Uberabasuchus from the badlands, hell it appeared in the same formation. Still, I reasoned that I'd throw it into this category because I already proposed so much for badlands (none of which came true but hey). And then there's Denazinosuchus (art by Andrey Atuchin). Again it looks deceptively like a modern croc, but is actually the last remnant of the goniopholids, crocodyliforms that were prominent animals in the Jurassic and early Cretaceous. It could have brought both taxonomic diversity nad highlighted croc resilience till the end.

When it came to picking out crocs for Oceans, it got tricky. Obviously season 2 tried to differentiate itself by being set more in the open ocean, not the coast, and true pelagic crocodiles weren't around by the end of the Cretaceous. So I had to settle for coastal animals. There's Sabinosuchus (Schiller II et al. 2016), a cousin to Sarcosuchus and, like Denazinosuchus, one of the last of its lineage. Also its from Mexico which is rarely talked about for its fossils. Rhabdognathus (Ghedoghedo) is a distant cousin, a slender snouted dyrosaur. Unlike pholidosaurs, dyrosaurs actually did really well after the KPG impact and spread around a lot, living way into the Eocene. And finally Chenanisuchus (art by artbyjrc), which like Rhabdognathus was found both before and after the impact that killed the dinosaurs.

And the final two I shall talk about, both of which I thought/hoped would appear in the North America episode. Again, there's certainly overlap, both would have just as much fit into swamps, while many others would have also suited North America. Regardless, here's Brachychampsa (Tom Parker) and Borealosuchus (Chris Masna), both iconic animals from the Hell Creek Formation. One closely allied with alligators and caimans, the other more basal with a head-shape more similar to todays crocodiles.

Now obviously there'd have been a lot more. Part of the challenge to myself was to try and be as diverse as possible, rather than just listing 10 different baurusuchids I went with only two, tried to include as much of the world as possible, etc.... There's also the fact that some really awesome taxa, Titanochampsa, Brachiosuchus and Eurycephalosuchus, all incredibly unique or interesting, were published too late to have been considered for the show. And now, in hinsight, we obviously know that with the exception of Simosuchus none of them made it in. Which is a shame, but maybe next time.

[eirikrjs]

UPDATE 9/2/23

Wow, it's almost fall and I'm still kickin', so here's a proper update about what's been going on with me. I do feel great most days, and with Halloween in season around the US, it makes me very happy. As far as stroke recovery goes, my leg has a newly made brace and my walking in general has greatly improved the past few months. I really don't roll my left foot anymore, in other words, my foot can go flat instead of landing on the ankle and possibly causing injury.

My arm is still mostly nothing but a couple weeks back I was able to move my shoulder again so there's hope. I also got a home electrical stimulation device so I give my arm and hand a jolt for an hour everyday. With time, I feel confident i'll recover.

A great help with my recovery has been the amazing @dagdasgoddess , a fellow young stroke survivor who has been watching out for me and offering encouragement every day for a couple months now, exactly when I needed it. Mentally, stroke recovery is pretty damn tough but most days I feel positive about it, with great thanks to her.

And now on to some business. Shortly before my stroke I was planning on celebrating the 10th anniversary of my blog (which would have been in December of last year, but I was still in the hospital, obviously...) And one of the things I was going to do was photograph and review all the smt demon figures I have, using my special diorama table. I got around to starting the project a couple weeks before the stroke, naturally starting with the Leonard figure. Here's one of the pics:

I also made something of an anniversary banner, just because, I guess:

I also want to talk about some milestones reached, starting with some follower counts. By December last year I finally surpassed 2k followers, so thank you so very much. This is after Kanekos Crib Notes quickly dwarfed my own blog followers shortly after its establishment in like 2014. But now my own blog is even ahead of kcn, as undoubtedly its current annual schedule limits its growth and reach. (But hey, it's almost October, aka KCN MONTH)

The last milestone is above: my Stealing Knowledge blogger has reached half a million views! Unbelievable, thanks for reading and sharing over the years! Identity crisis part 3 remains the most viewed, with over 50k on its own.

Finally, I want to talk about the future. Another 10th anniversary plan was to try and monetize the blog somehow, probably via a Patreon for new articles and such and many other ideas, maybe even doing YouTube videos to answer asks instead of them being all text. I have lots of other ideas too, but they'll have to wait until my arm works again. So instead of monetizing the future, for now I'm just going to ask y'all kindly to chip in for the blog's past. I'm amazed at how much activity the blog still generates from--let's call it "legacy content".

To that end, I have set myself up a kofi account where you can show your appreciation for that "legacy", kuwabara, kuwabara, if you'd like. All money earned will go towards paying down bills accrued during my recovery, like my hyperbaric treatments. In perfect honesty, it's been around 3000 US dollars so far. Don't feel obligated to contribute and thank you all for still sticking around with me despite my relative inactivity. And if course, continue keeping @sorenblr busy if you wish.

I would also not expect my own recovery before next year, that's just stroke for you. Thank you all!!!!!

p.s. I was featured as a stroke survivor again on another therapy facebook post:

[popculturebuffet]

How would you rank the Sam and Max episodes?

This is something I genuinely WAS going to do... but my massive workload and how tired I was at the time won out, a sign I was getting the cold i'm still fighting to finish my christmas reviews on time.

Anyways

Beyond the Alley of the Dolls: Is the clear #1. Recency bias is probably in play a TINY bit.. but it has all the jokes you'd expect, the most enjoyable puzzles in the series with me only having to use my guide occasionally, and genuine great tension and that climax is fantastic. While the season still ended on a high note, it's defintely the biggest and best ending of the trilogy. 2. The Mob the Mole and the Meatball: Season 1's best and honestly the best setting in the series.. and the latter games are none too shabby. It's just such a simple yet messed up concept: a chuck e cheese as a mafia front. Give those mafiso teddy bear heads and you have an outright classic. 3. The Tomb of Sammun Mak: The format bender really helped this one: the reel switching is the series best gimmick to shake things up and is a lot of fun. It's also their best asset flip, is packed with some iconic jokes and is charming as hell. 4. Situation: Comedy: While I loved these games from Culture Shock, Situation Comedy is where everything clicked: better puzzles, a great new environment to explore, great additions in mr featherly and two all time great bits: cooking without Looking and Subrban Cowboys (Their probably hiding a cow) It's only not higher up because it has that wonky as hell cow puzzle. I don't mind a long puzzle but I do mind when the puzzle is just "ask until you get the right question but we won't give you clues as to what the right answer are". It's fine if you can give wrong ansers and get great jokes, not so much in a loop but ot their credit the developers learned that lesson. Mostly.

4. The City that Dares Not Sleep: The touching, hilarous, and heartwrenching coda to the whole saga. The puzzles are a bit lighter, not hitting quite that good ballance of "Tricky but managable" and just being managable mostly. But it's still a standout conclusion to the best game in the trilogy.

5. Abe Lincoln Must Die!: This one like Situation Comedy would rank higher were the puzzles less frustrating or the hike back and forth from the street to the whtie house not tedious. That said while both of those can be grating... Abe Lincoln Must Die is just that funny. You have Max running for president against a giant stone abe lincoln, Superball's debut and of course the war song. I'm really disapointed the later games dropped musical numbers, as War and World of Max are bangers. I still listen to the war song regularly and probably will again just bringing it up here. 6. The Penal Zone: A brilliant start to their best season, a llittle lower due to that pigeon. Yes i'll never not resent the pidgeon pizza puzzle, as what the hell was that. But the chapter overall is fun, hilaroius and lets you get into the new groove of things nicely. Plus Max snorting at the penal zone's name will never not be funny.

6. Bright Side of the Moon: The most gorgeous chapter of the original game , with a grand set piece to close it out, a great villian reveal and of course... world of max. once again the song helps really boost this but it was a truly perfect ending to such a batshit season. 7. Night of the Raving Dead: IS a lot of fun. It has the worst puzzle in the trilogy, the dj puzzle, but damn if Jurgen isn't entertaning. Making a vampire lord an overly dorky scene kid was genius, and adding in that poor monster and of all people superball, and pulpy good flint paper and you have a stew goin.

8. They Stole Max's Brain: This one, like many is only so low thanks to one thing dragging it down: in this case the entire sammun mak act. I dreaded it going in and while it was better than I braced myself for it was still not great. You take my lack of love for stock ancient egyptian themeing (You can use it well but you have to work at it as it has cool astetics but is often used clusmily and sameily) and "The world is changed but only one person remember it plots" and i'm gonna have ab ad time. But the first two acts are so fun it compensates. 9. Culture Shock: Culture Shock is decent and is just above the bottom because while funny, a great start to the series and solid... the later chapters of both it's own game and the series as a whole really step it up. It dosne't help the main guests are the soda poppers who i've made my opinons of clear. Only specs dosen't make me want to kick his ass, to build a machine to kick his ass, to build an empire to house the machine to kick his ass!

10. What's New Beelzebub: Is solid. It's this low due to it's puzzles and the soda poppers reveal being VERY mid. I knew going in.. but that's the case with ALL the main villians and Hugh Blizz and The Narrator's reveals are way more effective: Bliss comes off as off from the start and the narrator is well set up whlie still being effective with an aamazing reveal. The Soda Poppers are just little weenies and them being revealed as the lords of the dammned isn't funny it's just.. what. You had Jurgen RIGHT THERE. The Soda Poppers really do ruin everything

11. Ice Station Santa: Starts well and has some great gags, torture me elmer is the best as is buster blaster

12. Chariots of the Dogs: Is fun, I just felt other chapters were better. But the payoff for the birthday and boscow do help this one up. The sexist humor not so much. Still has neat time travle 13. Reality 2.0: This one is only not bottom because it debuts the COPS. It gave us the COPS who rightly go on to play a bigger role in the next two games as the developers clearly loved them and so do I. It also has a fantastic finale, that graet mario joke and more I forgot, saving it from the bottom. But my god this one smells of "we ran out of time and needded a cheap chapter to make 6." I wouldn't be suprised if bduget is why the sequels are both 5 chapters instead as this one just.. asset flips to hell and isn't super fun about it. It TRIES but the digtial setting just feels lifeless. I think this one hasn't been helped by the sequels all having bigger more expansive sets, while this just feels half assed.

14. Moai Better Blues: has some frustrating puzzles like the cloud one, abe lincoln at his worst and that fucking surfboard minin game. Add in some mild racism and this one is just meh. The weakest chapter of them all. Some good jokes but that's standard for sam and max. What's not standard is that goodamn surfboard. There's a few good jokes but this feels like a mishmash of ideas rather than a more coherent chapter. Chariot Reused a lot but at least it was funny

[iinryer]

HELLO I also started watching Lone Star partially because of ur Marjan and Nancy art, i'm only at the beginning of season 3 right now and Marjan is definitely my favorite character. I wanted to know if Owen does some specific awful stuff that makes him so disliked? I find him a Bit amusing at most currently but mostly just very. dull? Like he's a laminated sheet of paper at most. And also i literally forget TK is his canonical son because he doesn't feel very fatherly. so I don't particularly feel much towards him, but wanted to know if i should brace myself for something terrible in specific later? LOVE YOUR ART TO DEATH BTW WHENEVER YOU SORT OUT PRINTS IM GONNA BE BUYING SOMETHING FOR SURE 😤

GOT ANOTHER ONE!!!! this is incredible im so delighted. marjaaaaaaaan….

personally i find him most tolerable in season 1-2, but even then i just think he’s one of the least interesting characters and YET he gets 70% of the screentime in any given episode—which bothers me sooooo much. a lot of his plots are really insufferable and we have to spend so much time on them, meanwhile they have one of the most interesting cast of characters I’ve literally ever seen, and none of them get any real arcs. imo it’s just frustrating as a viewer that i desperately want to know more about the muslim firefighter who wears a hijab or the black trans firefighter or the latino probie who cares a lot but was never given a shot bc of his dyslexia. ALL OF THOSE ARE SUCH COOL CHARACTER PREMISES! but no, we have to hear about 9/11 from owen again….

idk most of my ire comes from the fact that he Does have a cool dynamic with his son, and it Is a really neat setup for a story, but nearly all of owen’s plots are completely disconnected from literally everyone else on the show. i could surgically remove every owen-solo scene and i would still understand pretty much everything going on in any given episode, and it would be a quarter of the length. it’s bad writing! and really annoying to shelve such a diverse cast for rob lowe of all people.

tbh if everyone had the same amount of screentime i would probably hate him less? but it sucks that he takes up so much of what should be SUCH a stellar show. i could talk abt this forever gjfjdhfhf

(THANK YOUUU!!)

[markantonys]

I'm thinking about Rand's ending in the books and I hate both the bodyswap and that he abandons everyone but at the same time I get that his sacrifice has to mean something so the world forgets him/lets him fade into myth. And him actually dying would undermine the entire point of his arc. So I'm curious how you think the show might tackle this? I'm sure there's a few options

i hate it too! but yeah, rand needs to be forgotten by the world at large and needs to get a new face so he won't be recognized, or else he will never know peace. so the way i would do it is have him fade into myth among the general public, but still remain part of his loved ones' lives and they all just keep secret the fact that this guy is rand al'thor. his whole arc is about learning to stop self-isolating and to instead let himself lean on his loved ones for support, so i felt that him ending the series by fucking off into the mist all alone was totally contrary to that and did not make emotional sense as the endpoint of the journey we'd been on with him for 14 books. i can certainly understand if he needs to take a lil sabbatical and have some time to himself in the immediate aftermath, but that should not have been the very final concluding note of his whole arc! for my own sanity i have to imagine he just took a 2-week vacation and then went to caemlyn to be with his family (and told tam, nynaeve, and perrin that he's still alive, and rescued mat from the seanchan and incorporated him into the polycule, and bargained with the creator to bring egwene and gawyn back to life........okay i'm getting sidetracked)

as for what the show might do, i'll brace myself for them to adhere to the book version, but from what we've seen in the first 2 seasons, i think that ending would make even less sense for show!rand than it does for book!rand. in 1x08, we see that his greatest dream is to live a quiet, peaceful life with his family, and now we're going on a journey of watching him be forced to give up that dream for the rest of the series. what better way to end the show than by having rand finally get to live out that dream now that his duty to the world is done? the tears i would weep if the final scene of the show was similar to his 1x08 domestic AU, but real this time! plus, the s1 ending & s2 already did the whole thing of rand fucking off into the mist all alone, making his loved ones think he's dead, and trying to start over in a new town with a new life - AND HE LEARNS THAT THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE because he can't help but get attached to new people wherever he goes AND because he can't keep himself from remaining attached to the people from his old life and wanting to help them when he learns they're in trouble. and it also showed how his loved ones suffer because of him making them think he's dead and took a pretty hard stance in saying "no, no one is better off if rand fakes his death, not rand and not his loved ones." so i especially think rand's book epilogue scene would ring hollow in the show since s2 has specifically proven that that scenario doesn't work.

some people will harp on about happy endings being uNrEaLIsTIc, but i Do Not Give A Shit!!!! and so far the show has also shown that it's not interested in grimdark for grimdark's sake and that, like the books, it doesn't shy away from showing trauma and tragedy and yet still chooses hope & togetherness over cynicism & isolation at the end of the day, and so i think it feels very plausible for the show to give rand a bit more hopeful of an ending. (i guess the books TRIED to give him a hopeful ending what with him thinking happily about how he can travel around by himself and not be recognized, but it just felt false to me that that's the sort of thing that would make rand happy - in large part because show!rand was the first version i ever met, and i subconsciously carried his homebody caregiver stay-at-home dad-ness with me into the books even though he wasn't REALLY like that in the books in the way he is in the show. so that feels like further evidence that book!epilogue wouldn't work for show!rand.)

now as for the bodyswap, that's so tricky to imagine what the show might do. on the one hand, rand cannot fade into anonymity and be allowed to rest and set down his duties if he keeps his same body and will still be recognized wherever he goes. on the other hand, imagining rand's final moments in the whole show being portrayed by some random new actor instead of josha is so freaking sad! sad for us and sad for josha! it's fine in a book where we're in rand's head and can feel that he's still him even though he tells us he looks different, but in a visual medium, spending up to 8 seasons with josha as rand only to have his final moments be portrayed by a completely different person..........the emotions just wouldn't hit the same, it wouldn't feel like a proper sendoff for rand. granted, if moridin's actor had been in the show for several seasons already (and whether they would cast a new actor as moridin or bring fares fares back and just have the character still be called ishamael is another question i can't predict) then we'd be attached to him too by the finale, so maaaaaybe it could still feel emotional, but never as emotional as if it were josha doing that scene.

so i'm stuck here because story-wise it makes more sense for rand to get a new face, but TV-wise it's not sensible to have one of the main characters played by a different actor in their final scene(s). the potential solution to this would be, no bodyswap but have rand disguise his face with an illusion when in public so that he doesn't get recognized as the dragon reborn and get hassled.

so, okay, here's what i would do: rand wakes up in the healing tent still in his original body, but then he disguises himself and leaves the tent. he passes by his own funeral going on and slips away into the night, after exchanging a meaningful look with his partners who can sense that this stranger is him thanks to the bonds. then, cut to a proper epilogue scene of josha-as-rand undisguised in the privacy of his own home, watching his kids play with his partners by his side (and maybe all his friends and tam too if they REALLY feel like spoiling me haha) just like he told us in 1x01 he always dreamed of :')

[xxgothchatonxx]

One thing in season 2 I'm definitely bracing myself for is the inevitable mockery of Claudia by the theatre coven and the theatre audience.

One of Claudia's main goals is to be taken seriously, right? To be loved, respected and appreciated for who she is. And part of her tragedy (in both the book/film and show) is that no matter how hard she tries, that's never going to happen. (Except for Madeleine and, well...) Because she is stuck at that young age.

So, I'm predicting a lot of laughing, condescending, and we're most likely going to hear words like 'abomination' or 'freak'.

Like Les said, those vamps are going to "shred (her) to strips". Both literally and figuratively.

So, on the one hand, I have no doubt Delainey Hayles is going to give one epic performance during this. But on the other hand... yep, I'm keeping my tissues on standby for this.

[awingedllama]

Hi I guess this is my 2 cents on your save file wip:

Usually when I do my own renovation I would limit the packs to just the ones that's related to the world I'm building on (base game + get together if it's on Windenburg) plus essential packs that most people will likely have (Seasons & Pets & free stuff), but definitely won't use the whole catalog of every packs I own in each world.

So, say if a person doesn't have the vampires pack, then they'd be safe when playing with other worlds that they do have access to because all the vampires content are confined to Forgotten Hollow. It will be rather limiting but from my experience it did give me some room to experiment with stuff I won't usually use :)

This is a very good approach! I considered doing this, but since I'm only renovating 1 base game world in the file, I don't want to limit myself to certain objects and not be able to capture the vision I'm going for.

So for anyone who's interested, I've decided to use free CC (where necessary, mainly build CC) to build my lots, instead of doing a bunch of CC-free TOOL magic with a million packs/kits (how I'm used to building). That way I can limit packs to ones with major functionality, instead of having 83,082 kits required because I wanted to use a few plants

Currently I know I'll be using Seasons, City Living, GTW (retail), Dine Out (restaurant), Eco Lifestyle (community space) and Get Together (cafe). *maybe* High School Years if I find the energy to build a school

I'm also using Zerbu's Venue Changes Mod and Spawn Refresh, which allow multi-purpose lots (it is revolutionary), so if people don't have the packs that belong to those lot types, they can still use the lots as libraries/museum, parks, lounges/bars or something else functional!

All the CC/mods needed will be linked in the post when the file's done. And any debug world decorations from other packs I'll make BGC (after all it's just set dressing). My reasoning is that since it's a save file, only PC players can use it anyway: so everyone who uses the save can download CC. But someone who only has the base game can still have 99% of the lots completely furnished and playable, they just have to switch the lot type!

also a sidenote: we're in willow creek now 😎 bc it has more lots than newcrest

and i learned how to edit strings/world maps, so 'Crest Harbor' (working title, don't really like it; suggestions welcome) will have its own special map & loading screen (this screenshot is unedited, i desaturated the BG map as a test).

'Crest Harbor' is also it's own world (though on the loading screen it's icon is identical to Willow Creek, unless i can figure out how to change it, since it's a clone made with Zerbu's Copy Worlds mod)

sorry this is post is so long lol, once i started typing my thought processes i couldn't stop. and posting updates keeps me motivated to keep working on it, so brace for more annoyingly long posts soon

[itstokkii]

A Week with Turkitty: Day 1

what if turkey became a cat for a short time and had to live with uzbekistan? this is the result of that idea. it's multi chaptered, so this is the first one.

Day 1 | Day 2

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

It's a wonderful day in the Yusufqizi residence. 

The arrival of fall meant no more sweltering hot days and portable fans. No longer did Nargiza have to keep her air conditioning on blast and then brace herself when looking at the electric bill at the end of the month. She didn't have to experience the pain of sweat stains. It was one of the best seasons, in her opinion—warm weather with the occasional breeze. She had also prepared her wardrobe a week earlier, and was excited for all the new outfits she could try out. And the best part? She was able to secure a whole week off to herself. 

She was sitting on the tapchan with a table full of jam, fruit, and chocolates, enjoying the wind combing itself through her dark brown locks. It was nice and quiet and incredibly peaceful. Nargiza took a deep breath, taking in the smell of the plants in her garden.

What should I do? She thought. Maybe visit Erbolat again? I should remind him to bring out his warmer clothes, otherwise he'll catch a cold...If I was smarter, perhaps I would've bought a ticket to see Korea...He always likes showing me around, and I'd love more photoshoots in hanbok...Hmm... Or maybe I should sleep in everyday and indulge myself in my favorite hobbies, like baking or knitting something... or perhaps finding a new song to play on the piano...? No, I can't be lazy and sleep in!

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging noise, and a call notification by...Azerbaijan?

"I'll be there in just a moment!" She yelled out to whomever was behind the door, and answered her former colleague's call.

"Hello...?"

"Open up." She could hear his voice behind the door.

"What? Azerbaijan, why are you in front of my house?! Is this about that thing with Rus-"

He sighed on the other end of the phone. "Nargiza, just open the door." With that, he hung up. 

She scoffed. What was that rascal doing here? She opened the door to see not only Azerbaijan standing there, but North Cyprus was with him as well, playing some game on his phone. Next to them was a... cat carrier? 

Nargiza smiled and turned to North Cyprus. 

"Hello, North Cyprus! How was the route? What are you doing here? Do I need to talk to Azerbaijan about it? Are you tired? Do you need some rest? My, don't tell me you only came here in a T-shirt? Did you bring a jacket? I can lend you one of Erbola-"

North Cyprus sighed and smiled back at her. "I'm fine, Auntie. I'm not a baby. Besides, it's not even that cold anyway."

She giggled and pinched his cheek affectionately, to which he scrunched his face. 

"Come inside! It's cold out. You're just in luck, I have some tea and treats over on the tapchan, so whatever this is—” she gestured at the both of them with a hand, “we can sort out here." She opened the gate wide enough for both of them to enter her house.

"Have some tea." Uzbekistan poured her two unexpected guests a cup of green tea, carefully placing it in front of them. "Oh, and help yourself to any of these snacks." 

Azerbaijan carefully sipped the tea, while North Cyprus stared at it, hoping for it to cool soon. He grabbed a toffee from the pile on the crystalware, minding the light blanket Uzbekistan threw over him, insisting he "needed to stay warm" and "she doesn't know what Turkey's doing, but she'll have a talk with him so North Cyprus's needs are met."

"What about me, Nargiz? You aren't worried about me catching a cold?"

"The Caucasus is a mountainous region, Rostem. You're fine."

"Aw...."

Now, over tea and treats, they could focus on the elephant in the room...or, rather, cat.

"Now would any of you explain to me why you made the 4 hour plane flight all the way from Turkey to here, with a cat in tow?" North Cyprus was the first to speak. 

"You're going to laugh at us."

"I'll believe it. I've seen enough in my time."

Azerbaijan looked at Uzbekistan. "Alright, but however you're gonna react, keep in mind that we're being completely serious."

He patted the cat carrier lightly.

"The cat in here...is Turkey."

She stared at the both of them, both of them feeling a menacing aura emit from her. 

North Cyprus sighed. "Look, we've already told you we're not joking. I didn't wanna sit in a 4 hour flight and have my butt fall asleep on the way to mess with you. I could be playing FIFA right now, actually..."

Uzbekistan felt uneasy. This couldn't possibly be true! But they were being dead serious… She bit her lip. 

"Fine, then. Let him out."

North Cyprus opened the latch, and out came a orangey-tan cat that leaped onto Uzbekistan's lap. So it was him after all.

"But how? And why me? You both are closer in proximity to him than I am."

Azerbaijan sipped his tea. "Honestly, we have no idea. His assistant called us in a hurry and told us what had happened. It was a "poof!" and he turned into a cat. Right in front of his eyes."

"As for why we can't take care of Uncle," North Cyprus added, "We're both pretty busy with work. We already asked your siblings if they were available, but they all seem pretty swamped with work too. You're the only one out of all of us who's taking a break. It made the most sense."

She sipped her tea and closed her eyes, hoping to retain some composure and calm down over this whole situation. She glanced at the cat in her lap, who at this point folded himself into a medium-sized loaf. It took everything in her not to squeal or spin him around or fawn at his adorableness. 

He may be a cat, but he was still Turkey. Anything she did, he'd never let her live down.

"And I take care of him for..."

"For now, about a week. We're working with his assistant and others to figure out what happened and how to stop it. If you need any help, just call us."

"I will, thank you. As...inconveniencing as this is, I'll try my best to take care of him. Do whatever you need to do to get him back to normal as quickly as possible."

 Azerbaijan gave her a plastic bag. In it was a change of clothes.

"This is for when he turns back to normal. And if you need us, just call."

With that, he stood up from the tapchan, with North Cyprus following suit.

"Behave around her, old man!" North Cyprus yelled. Turkey meowed back in retaliation. Cat in arms, she saw them to her main gate as they left. Once the door slammed, her attention went back to Turkey.

"Now, it was a 4-hour flight. You must be hungry. Conveniently, I have some chicken shashlik left over from yesterday evening. And some vegetables from the garden..." 

After running around back and forth from the kitchen, garden, and living room, she set a small plate of shashlik on the floor, and the orange cat devoured through it quickly.

"Slow down! Think about your digestion!" She warned him. He turned to look at her with a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Oh, don't look at me like that! So what if I don't want you to die? You'd be leaving your poor dear nephew behind, and what then?" She scoffed and focused on folding the chuchvara she was cooking for herself.

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

"I'm pregnant...with your child."

Uzbekistan gasped at the drama's plot twist as she absentmindedly stroked Turkey's fur with one hand and sipped on black tea with the other.

Turkey meowed.

"What? You know how this drama ends?"

He nodded.

"Well, thank goodness you're a cat," She shovels a spoonful of chuchvara into her mouth. "You wouldn't be able to spoil it anyway!"

Turkey let out an angry meow and sunk his claws into her pants.

"Ah!" She carefully put her spoon down and turned her body towards him, drama out of her mind.

"Do you know what you could've done? You could've burned me! Look!"

She grabbed him and held him up to show him her food on the dinner table, using his paw to point at various things.

"See? There's my soup here, and my tea there! What would have happened if I burned myself, hmm? Naughty cat!" 

Uzbekistan carefully set him down again, and turned back to eating her soup. It felt uncomfortably quiet. She snuck glances at him occasionally as she ate, and was slowly beginning to feel guilty for scolding him earlier.

She gently reached out to him, lightly brushing her hand over the top of his fur, before suddenly grabbing him and rocking him back and forth.

Ah! Why am I like this? I always forgive and never forget!

"I'm sorry for scolding you earlier! I didn't mean to hurt you! I just wanted to let you know how dangerous it was to stick your claw into my leg!"

...So this is what Kazakhstan talks about...the overbearing sister that yells at you for doing something stupid and then crying about being too harsh not a minute later…

Turkey let out a meow that, to Uzbekistan, felt like one of remorse.

Her rocking slowed to a stop as she realized this wasn't just any cat. This was Turkey of all people.

She cleared her throat and stiffly placed him down.

Ehehe...I'm starting to like this arrangement...

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

She yawned as she completed washing the very last dish of the day. In the meantime, Turkey was enjoying a tuna snack Uzbekistan had on her shelf. "It was just in case I brought a cat over," she insisted.

She didn't think it would've been him eating the treats.

Uzbekistan dried her hands with a towel and crouched next to Turkey. The house was quiet, and she could hear crickets chirping outside and the gentle rustling of plants.

"Well, Turkey, since you'll be under my care and my household for the whole week, you must obey a simple rule."

He whined in protest.

"How else will I maintain order and calm in my house? It's just one rule. You may not touch any of my important objects. This includes glassware, makeup, documents, my phone and laptop, and this cabinet full of crystalware and other memorabilia I have collected from the Soviet Era." Her fingertips brushed a large wooden cabinet of all kinds of glass.

One rule, huh....? He could live with that.

Uzbekistan yawned, the type you'd hear from a princess. You could hear the sleep in her voice. "As it's getting late, I'll be going to bed. You can sleep in the guestroom, with all the cushions and pillows you need. I'll shop for tuna tomorrow."

What?! I'll be sleeping there? I thought I was sleeping with you!

Turkey glared at the guestroom and hissed.

"Are you worried about the guestroom? It has a bed, just like mine. There's a shelf full of bedding and pillows. If you're worried about evil spirits, don't be. This place has been perfectly rid of anything like that. Any more concerns?"

Turkey meowed, and…rolled his eyes? Was that even possible? Fine. I’ll stay in the guestroom.

Well, goodnight, Turkey." Uzbekistan smiled at him, scratched behind his ears(with a shaky hand), and closed her bedroom door. 

Finally alone, she ran to her bed and screamed into a pillow, rolling around from one side of the bed to another.

"My goodness..! This is so weird, how will I be able to handle this for a week?" She spoke to herself. "This is real. It's all real. I just spent a day with my....with Turkey as a cat!"

She didn’t know Turkey was right behind the door, the same feelings and thoughts racing through his mind.

God, I've actually spent the whole day at her house...and it'll be like this the whole week! Finally! But the one time I get to stay at her house overnight instead of going back to my hotel room...I'm a cat.

‎‧₊˚✧[🇹🇷🇺🇿]✧˚₊‧

*Erbolat: Kazakhstan's name, gifted to him by peonycats!!

*Rostem: Azerbaijan's name, also gifted to him by peonycats!

wiaow... the one time turkey gets to spend a night at uzb's house...but it's not quite the way he thought it would happen....

how will he survive a week? more importantly, will uzbekistan go crazy from having to take care of....someone she cares about...in cat form?

find out in the next chapter!