#these same people are always like 'fear keeps kids safe!' and then post about their poor relationships with their parents

[fanarchoslashivist]

Taking Pitch Black away from the Pitch Black fans until they start loving him for his actual character and not whatever sadboy fandom personality they give him.

He happily murdered people. That is a significant part of his lore. He murdered people. MiM, Emily Jane, Sandy, and Bunnymund are not the last survivors of their people for no reason. Begging people to love tragic villain characters for their tragic villainy.

On my knees begging people for actual villain Pitch content.

[divinerapturesys]

Welcome to my Ted Talk about AsPD, or Antisocial Personality Disorder, which the internet likes to coin as sociopath 👌🏻 if you don’t like long infodumps about stigmatized mental disorders from someone who is diagnosed, move on.

Quick toxic rundown: People with AsPD are generally characterized as emotionless, violent, manipulative abusers who kill animals and like to make other people their bitches. The biggest pet peeve we have is the emotionless, sadistic and abusive generalization.

Personally, we are highly neurotic, with highs and lows of: depression, frantic drive, self abuse tactics, chronic fear, lapses of rejection, overwhelming over-analyzation, grey area thinking, false goods and false bads, ultimatums, obsessive compulsive behavior, harsh self demands, and irritability.

AsPD is a disorder that is caused primarily (according to current research) by trauma and abuse in childhood; most notably being emotional neglect and absent caregivers that cause a child to have emotional shutdowns and repression episodes in an attempt to self soothe. Primary caregivers who do not bond with their children are also a factor. Children learn how to behave from those around them. If a primary caregiver is emotionally distant and unavailable, children will learn that is normal behavior and that’s how people are. If a primary caregiver does not provide empathy and sympathy during moments of distress and fear, children will learn that aloofness and disregard of others feelings is normal behavior. If a primary caregiver does not keep a child safe, children will learn that they should not prioritize their own safety or the safety of others. You can find my follow up post regarding this here.

Neglected and abused children often act out trying to get attention and help, often acting out in bad ways because they lack the ability to articulate what they’re feeling and what is happening to them. The pipeline for AsPD typically is: Oppositional Defiance Disorder as a child, Conduct Disorder as a teen, AsPD as an adult. There are a lot of warning signs cueing that AsPD is becoming a risk for development, but often kids do not have a support system to help negate it as it’s their support system that is usually a factor in its creation.

Being AsPD is like being an emotional La Croix 70% of the time. If you’re depressed, then it’s like someone in the other room has depression and is telling you about it. The other 30% of the time, if you’re depressed, your brain doesn’t understand how to handle it so it’s an ultimatum between doing something drastic to remove the Trigger or ignoring and dissociating for days on end.

People with AsPD are very good at ignoring things. Honestly it’s problematic as fuck but it’s not hard to ignore major issues when you just, don’t care. It’s not in the terms of being cruel or making ourselves not care, but the fact that finding the emotional willpower is so far out of our feasible reach we don’t do it. This causes us to piss people off because we don’t have the capacity to care as much as they want us to, even if we can and do to an extent.

Think of it this way: empathy/sympathy is a deep tub of water that everyone has. They can easily fill their measuring cup for the needed amount of empathy without any issues and it’s easy for them. People with AsPD don’t have a tub of water. We have shallow skillet. When we try to dip our cup to fill it, we can’t, it always comes up short and it is difficult to get any water in it as there is no room for the cup to dive. Our ability to care is limited because we do not have the same emotional resources everyone else does.

❌ False Positives & False Negatives ❌

I operate on what I’ve learned are called false positives and false negatives. These are things that are trained into the brain from an early age based off of childhood trauma and other factors. False positives are a distorted version of why we do something to help ourself and for our own good, meanwhile a false negative is something we do because it’s a threat, or based out of fear.

❌ Some of my false positives:

- It is good to be afraid of nothing

- It is good to adapt to someone’s personality if they are stronger than you

- It is good to isolate yourself

- It is good to be a silver tongue because you can get into any place you want

- It is good to become a social chameleon and shape yourself to whatever those around you need/want most, because then you have no chance of being abandoned

❌ Some of my false negatives, which can explain the false positives as well as core beliefs:

- it is bad to be afraid, if I am afraid then I am vulnerable and it can be used against me

- It is bad to be emotional or show concern for others emotions because they do not care for mine

- It is bad to be able to be exploited, because I believe it is everywhere

- It is bad to allow myself to be bored, because boredom begets bad thoughts and no one can or wants to help me when I spiral

- It is bad to not shape yourself to the social circle, because people quickly grow tired of those who do not match them perfectly and being discarded means I failed

My core beliefs can be viewed as the root for the false positives and negatives, because they are based on the core of trauma, abuse and neglect. They come from patterns and instances that make someone with AsPD become the opposite of what they experienced:

- eat or be eaten

- If I don’t show that my bite is worse than my bark, I will be taken advantage of and I must remain on top because the ones on top are safe

- I must look out for myself because nobody will do it for me

- It doesn’t matter what happens to me, therefore it doesn’t matter what people think of me

- If I cannot do something well, then I should not do it at all

- If you are dependent on others for emotional and mental well being, you are weak, therefore I must isolate myself to avoid becoming codependent and a burden and useless

- If I can handle the stress of a situation better than everyone else, therefore I will keep the problem (financial, emotional, mental, etc) to myself to reduce chances of being abandoned due to failure of perfection

People with AsPD are hard to get along with. We often:

- are always anticipating a fight

- lack respect for authority

- ignore social structures to an extent

- tendency to lie if it’ll lessen punishment or if we feel the lie is more acceptable than our actions

- limit social support because it’s wrong to be dependent on others

- have an inflated view of our own importance — which turns into a self ridicule for believing someome like me could be found important to others —

- can be rude and inconsiderate of others feelings somewhat unintentionally

- are unable to read the correct social cues in relation to empathy towards people and animals

- am constantly confused by others dependence upon empathy and inability to make desicions from logic based standpoints

We can’t speak for everyone who has AsPD, nor are we saying that no one with AsPD is capable of being a murderer/abuser etc. but we are saying that y’all need to stop automatically classifying someone as a certain “type” as soon as you know about their disorder.

One last thing I do want to point out is that it is not uncommon for people with AsPD to derive some sort of enjoyment in causing harm, doing something illegal, hurting someone or animals, etc. This entirely stems from lack of environmental control as a child. Being able to control what happens to others or being able to control the things you say or do that hurts someone else is a hefty high to get addicted to; it soothes the underlying itch of not being able to control your own trauma and abuse, so in turn you push these behaviors onto others and enjoy it because it gives you a sense of power and control. Some people with AsPD do genuinely love hurting others, and some enjoy hurting others when they believe it’s deserved or their ire has been stoked. Some enjoy causing pain to those they think deserve it, and others don’t care who they hurt as long as they feel like they’re in control of the situation.

Hope this have some insight into AsPD 🤙🏻 if y’all have any questions, shoot.

[familyvideostevie]

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help. 

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable. 

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets.  You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her."  Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

__

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something. 

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[rekino2114]

Since you wanted Halloween posts: Can you please do taking Fami trick-or-treating? I assume she'd be in it for the free food and put on the most basic costume imaginable to save energy. May sincerely go as a bedsheet ghost unless you already have one picked out and insist she wears it instead. Thanks!

You and fami going trick-or-treating

Halloween post #10

Happy Halloween!!! 🎃 👻🎉

Pairing:fami x gn reader

Summary:you knew fami loved food more than anything (except for you) so you made it a point to try to hide the existence of Halloween from her so she wouldn't get envious of the kids.......you were very right about that.

A/n:Happy Halloween, everyone! Thanks for reading my posts and all the requests. I hope you enjoyed the event, I personally loved writing it and have already planned something similar for Christmas. There's a bit of a reference to my daughter nayuta au cause I love it, and I'm actually working on part 3 now

"Why did you buy so much candy?"

Those were the words you dreaded hearing your girlfriend say with her emotionless voice

You were unsure if fami knew about the concept of Halloween, being a devil and all, so just to be safe, you tried not to mention anything about it in fear that she would feel entitled to the candies and maybe even drag you trick-or-treating.

"I mean, I appreciate you buying more food for me, but I'd like a little more variety, I'm still not complaining though"

"O-oh those.......aren't for you"

"Of course, they're for you too, we already went over this, I'll always share my food with you, especially if it's yours in the first place"

"No, I meant they're for neither of us. You can't eat any of them"

Fami looked disappointed, or at least as disappointed as she could look keeping the same face she always had

".......then who are they for?"

"I wanted to give them to the kids"

"..........why? Their parents can get them candies"

"...w-well they're probably gonna come here and ask us"

"Why?"

You knew lying to fami would have been useless since she could read people very well, especially you, so you just sighed and told her the truth, preparing for whatever was about to happen

"I see, Halloween is when kids dress up and ask for candies to random houses, ah, i think Yoshida mentioned something about this a few days ago"

"Yeah, so you can't eat the candy, sorry"

"..............it's fine"

"Oh I'm glad you understand"

"It's nothing.........so what are you dressing up as?"

"Hm?"

"I suppose it's fine if you don't want to wear anything too"

"........fami we're not going trick-or-treating"

"Why?"

"We're high schoolers. Only kids go trick-or-treating. Everyone will look at us weird"

"I don't care what humans think of me, as long as I get the candies they can look at me however they want"

"......and what will you dress up as anyway? I didn't prepare any costumes"

"Can't I just go as myself? I'm a devil, after all, an horseman nonetheless, that's quite scary in my opinion"

"No one knows that. You just look like a normal human woman"

"So they won't give me candies?"

"Yeah, most likely"

".......I see"

Fami got up and went into another room. You thought she was going to grab something to eat to ease her sorrows so you didn't pay too much attention to it and began using your phone

"Y/n, what do you think?"

"About wha-"

When you raised your head, you were met with a bed sheet ghost, or well fami with a sheet on her, only the eyes were cut out, but that was enough to make you recognize her...along with her legs.

"I searched for some easy Halloween costumes, and this was the first that came up, what do you think?"

"OK, I'll admit that the glowing eyes are kinda creepy, but you're so tall the sheet doesn't even cover you completely"

"It's still a costume"

"So?"

"I'm still gonna go"

"I......*sighs* Fine, I guess, if you really want to go, I'm not going to stop you, I'm not wearing anything, though. "

You could feel the happiness in her voice, something only you could do, as she thanked you and grabbed the basket before walking outside and letting you follow her

You went around the neighborhood trick-or-treating, well actually only she was, and to your surprise actually got a lot of candies, you don't know if it was because people were scared of her or because they were just nice but fami didn't care what it was as long as they gave her sweets, you even saw fami's niece trick-or-treating with her parents and said hi to her.

After finishing, you returned home, and fami took the sheet off of her, just throwing it to the floor and sat down to start eating her candies

You sat down too and started using your phone again. You were interrupted when you felt something tapping you in the face, you looked up to see the famine devil holding your favorite candy

"Take it"

"Oh thanks, how did you know I liked it?"

"I see you always take that one for yourself when we go shopping, so I assumed it was your favorite"

".....wow you remembered that?"

"Of course, i remember all your favorite foods......mostly because so I know not to eat them"

"Thanks, that's a lot coming from you"

"It's really nothing, now take this, I want to continue eating"

You took the candy from fami's hand, and she kissed your cheek before coming back to her chair and resuming eating. You ate the candy too and smiled at her

"Hey, next year I think I'll dress up too"

Your girlfriend raided her head to look at you, and the ghost of a smile appeared on her face

"Thanks, that sounds really fun, I can't wait"

[kyunniebuns]

//Solo Leveling yume

Introducing: Geum Seul-ae!!! Jinwoo's silly mage girlfriend.

Trope: Strangers to Friends to Lovers.

About Seul-ae ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Age: Same age as Jinwoo

Height: 152cm/5'0

Birthday: 04/09

Mbti: Infp

Rank: A-rank (She Reawakens to S rank later on)

Affiliation: None

Type: Mage

Title: Lady of Bloodied Petals, Her Highness of the sea

Powers: Sacred Primordial Sea, Botanokinesis

Regression ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Job: Freelance Artist, youtube vlogger><

♡ Seul-ae is one of those cute cozy youtube vloggers who don't share their face and voice on the video. She often posts about her art process + daily diaries as well as showing off her cute outfits<3

♡ Her content is mostly: draw with me, ootd, mundane life things, cooking, walking in parks and taking pictures of flowers or anything she finds pretty

Personality ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

♡ She's a very lovely and sweet girl, though she is very insecure and anxious. Seul-ae stutters in her words a lot and gets tired of conversations easily, leading her to tend to attempt ending conversations without the other person noticing. Of course, she is still polite and very attentive, she just gets drained very very fast.

♡ At first sight, people always mistake her as cold and distant but she is actually a sunshine type of girl. She just has a poker face most of the time^^;;

♡ Seul-ae often imitates people out of fear that she would offend them. She observes how the other people act and tries her best to blend in so that she won't be bullied. Her real personality is quite eccentric in a way that she can't talk about things she loves such as whales and sharks. She often suppresses that side of her so that she can avoid being an outcast. She used to be one of those weird kids who got bullied in elementary and got shaken to the point that she became a people-pleaser. Seul-ae is only comfortable with people she is close to and most especially Jinwoo. He is her safe space.

♡ Seul-ae is not an academic achiever, she is in fact very academically challenged and only has average grades of C and D minus her art subjects. She hates studying anything except for marine life in which she can get heavy detail in.

♡ In her hunter days, Seul-ae was known as one of the kindest and most warm hunters there is. She has fans whom she often interacts with kindly and respectfully. Though she doesn't work with any guild, high ranked hunters like Choi Jong-in often invite her to assist in their raids and she helps willingly even offers to not get paid^^.

Love Story with Jinwoo ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Their ties go way back to elementary. They have heard of each other but never really interacted. But from what Jinwoo knew, she was one of those eccentric and obnoxious girls who have such loud voices during recess. In middle school, she was known for her absolute avoidance of feminine things. In senior high where they officially meet as classmates, Jinwoo was shocked to find how much Seul-ae had changed in a not good way. She became a loner but was still polite and respectful. He even noticed her having anxious episodes and often avoided conversations with anyone. However, Seul-ae was well known for her artistic capabilities and often won in art contests, which she doesn't really seem to be proud of.

After graduating, they never met again until his E-ranked days. Seul-ae hasn't awakened yet, but when she saw how much Jinwoo suffers trying to work, she offered him what little money she had. Seul-ae often visits Jinwoo in his odd jobs outside of hunting and gives him free food to eat out of kindness. They lose touch for a bit since Jinwoo keeps disappearing. But after a year, Seul-ae became an S-ranker after experiencing double awakening who is also now well beloved, and Jinwoo followed right after her, ascending as shadow monarch this time.

Seul-ae was extremely happy to have met Jinwoo again and wouldn't stop talking to him enthusiastically which he found adorable. And eventually, the two started to date. They didn't really hide it nor did they announce it.

When Jinwoo regressed, he approached Seul-ae in senior high and courted her again before returning her memories with him.

Their trope is just sunshine x sunshine protector<3. I love this trope a lot heheh.

Their Emojis: 🐈‍⬛🪼

[dallasgallant]

Time period post: trust and faith

The title is a bit misleading for this post as it is not necessarily trust for everything/everyone but more an inherent trust in community and neighborhood. This is a time when people would leave their front doors wide open and small talk wasn’t a chore. Now, I know now days you can’t exactly leave your door open but I can’t help but feel we’ve truly lost when smiling and talking to strangers is compared to “emotional labor” you know? This post is about a trust that’s become lost in everyday life, social nets and a sense of safety.

Basically life pre serial killers lol

Contradiction—

While there was greater faith in society that is not a monolith or a universal truth, there was simultaneously less and more fear. Something to keep in mind is this era is coming out of McCarthism, the Cold War, the height of civil rights - still racism and xenophobia, homophobia- the beginnings of the gay rights movements. There were still broader anxieties- especially as so much change and progress was happening it leads to a lot of worry and anxieties! Some rational others not. A lot to unlearn/unpack and learn!

Urban sprawl is another cause for anxiety, and contradictory to this faith in society, while it opened a lot of opportunities for home ownership to those who’d never had the opportunity prior… it became a never ending machine chipping away at the countryside. Freeways bulldoze communities, some neighborhoods are blocked racially, some are so large you start to loose it a little. Now this is by no means a 1960s explosives it started in the 40s but the fear and sprawl of it all starts to take head.

The rise of the middle class comes with the bad alongside its many goods. Like the rise of consumerism, again largely post ww2

There was so much fear but at the same time a more … relaxed? Society for lack of a better word, it’ll make sense once I get into it.

Streetlights and latchkeys-

There’s a lot to be said about knowing and trusting your neighborhood and community, being able to have your kids play a few blocks away without much worry and leaving your door open. Now part of this, I will concede was a lot of parents just not knowing and hands off parenting. Push your kids out “don’t come back until or be sure to by back when the streetlights come on”. Not always neglectful but different from the helicopter preferences of today.

I’m not exaggerating either, the storm door would be closed but if someone was home usually the front or back door would be open. For friends, family, deliveries etc- you’d yell in first of course but then be welcomed on in. There was always serial killers but they wouldn’t become a huge fear until the absolute boom of them in the 70s-80s.

Alongside faith there was a lot less rules/regulations/laws garnering certain behaviors. You could send your kid into the store with a note to buy things such as booze or cigarettes! Sometimes just a few regular groceries if your kids out and your busy (my mom talks about running into a store to get cigarettes for her mom a lot). People trusted the note, parents trusted their kids to get what was asked and come back home right away. It was much more common to see kids unsupervised and completely fine, walking home safely - it was normal!

Latchkey kid: a child who is at home without adult supervision for some part of the day, especially after school until a parent returns from work.

8+ , young but older enough where the child is responsible/capable enough to get home and be able to care for themselves. In this I mean they’re at least able to make a sandwich and keep themselves entertained, not pay taxes or anything. The term and the idea of it took off in regard to teenagers in ww2 but they’ve been around for ages as - again childhood as we understand it post child labor is still a pretty new thing.

Latchkey kids typically were families who couldn’t afford daycare/child care facilities or had any nearby family to watch the kids or who could afford to watch them themselves. Sometimes a neighbor would be the there to call/check on them but not a constant watch.

BBQ and casserole-

Something that kept communities close/ knowing each other were regular get togethers. There were town events and social halls but also the classic neighborhood BBQ or block party! Dances (both adult and teen) when that was huge- different from clubbing and clubbing was also different.

It’s a trope now but bringing casseroles to a friend or neighbor who lost someone, being updated on their lives and there for them. Local clubs for just about anything! Hosting!

Hosting was huge amongst upper class and the ever expanding middle class. All sorts of parties and events, BBQ’s included. Tupperware parties were another big thing, or Avon calls— women’s get togethers mainly to sell product/have product sold to them (think MLM but more reputable)

Cocktail parties! Snacks and a big jug of a type of cocktail and adults hanging out. Not always friends a lot of the time men from work, important or otherwise.

This isn’t to say that clubs, parties and community events aren’t a thing anymore but more it was much more prominent than I’ve experienced/seen it today. That and of course it’s a while different era certain aspects were different.

It was a lot easier to have much more faith in society (and trust in neighbors) when it was more common to actually take the time to get to know the people around you. When there wasn’t 24/7 news cycles of fear or a million ways to get constant new info- when you got it through good old fashioned local gossip. I’ve talked about Locality before in some of my other posts!

[nickeverdeen]

Hii! I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the person who asked for the jj x autistic!fem little sister request. It wasn't posted yet (even tho I'm already excited for it❤️) and some days after I sent, I had an idea of another request for the same universe, but because I was embarrased to send a second request when the first one wasn't even posted yet, I decided I was going to send just after the first one was posted.... whoever, you seem very famous between your fandoms (well deserved btw, you're a great writer) and realized that, because you have so many requests all the time, a second request coming from me would take longer if I decided to send another day. So, if it's not a problem, could I send a second request to you so at least I already have a place on your request list? if it's not, let me know.

Anyways it's an imagine with the same reader where JJ notices Sarah and reader are acting a bit odd (talking on each other's ears, giggling like kindergardens holding secrets, get silent everytime he gets to close) and he's starting to get a bit suspicious and genuinely curious. Him and his baby sister are always each other's confidants yk? He always let her comfortable to share anything to him ( he's pretty sure they're more close than any of her classmates with their parents) and she always did, like the good kid she is. So he's maaaybe a bit embarrassaed to say that he really wants to know what she might not be telling him. So I can imagine him, sensitive as a horse and acting like the protective brother he is, trying to get information from sarah, even try to make jhon B find out through Sarah. He finds out what it was at some point and why did his favourite girl didn't really wanted to tell him yet: reader is having a crush on a boy. And as if it wasn't complicated enough for JJ (because honestly she will always be his little baby and he never trusted a single soul near her, since he always feared someone could be insensitive to her. Jhon B even joked about it once, saying jj might be preparing a gun for this day) there's something else: the misterious boy is a kook. Just to make things more difficult, because jj doesn't really has a soft spot for kooks.

Jj... Doesn't really know what he's feeling. Or what he's going to say.

A boy?! | JJ Maybank x autistic fem!reader

Pairings: JJ x reader (family), Sarah x reader (platonically close), John B x JJ (platonically close), Sarah x JJ (platonic), John B x reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Comedy

Warnings: Nothing

Summary: Being JJ’s small sister and liking a Kook isn’t a very great combination and so you keep quiet about it, but being a big brother JJ starts to snoop around.

————————

JJ Maybank prided himself on knowing everything about his little sister. You were his favorite person in the world, and while JJ could be reckless and a bit wild, when it came to you, he was always patient, always careful. You were autistic, and he’d always made it his mission to make sure you felt safe and understood in every situation.

Which was why your recent behavior was driving him crazy.

It started small—little things, like giggling with Sarah, whispering in corners, and clamming up the moment he walked into the room. At first, JJ brushed it off, but then it kept happening. And JJ wasn’t dumb—he knew when people were hiding something.

And you? Hiding something from him? That stung.

It wasn’t like you to keep secrets. You always told him everything, whether it was about school, sensory overloads, or just how much you hated certain textures in your food. You two had a bond JJ was sure no one else could replicate, and the thought of you shutting him out made his chest ache.

So, naturally, he did what any big brother would do. He started snooping.

First, he tried to corner Sarah.

“What’s going on with you and my sister?” he asked casually, leaning on the counter like he wasn’t dying to know the answer.

Sarah smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, my ass. You two are giggling like little kids with a secret handshake. Spill it.”

“JJ,” Sarah said sweetly, “if she hasn’t told you, it’s not my place.”

That hit him harder than he cared to admit. You always told him everything. Why weren’t you telling him now?

When Sarah wouldn’t budge, JJ tried to recruit John B.

“She’s your girlfriend,” JJ argued, pacing the porch. “You can get it out of her.”

John B raised an eyebrow. “Dude, you’re acting like she’s plotting world domination.”

“She might as well be!” JJ snapped. “What if it’s something bad? What if she’s in trouble?”

John B laughed. “It’s not bad, JJ. Chill out.”

But JJ couldn’t chill. He spent the next few days agonizing over what you could possibly be keeping from him. When he finally pieced it together, it hit him like a freight train.

It happened one afternoon when he caught you staring off into space, your cheeks pink. He sat down beside you, careful not to startle you. “Whatcha thinking about, kiddo?”

Your eyes darted away, and you fiddled with your hands. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” JJ teased gently.

You hesitated, then finally blurted out, “There’s… this boy.”

JJ froze. Of all the things he’d expected, that hadn’t been it.

“A boy,” he repeated slowly, as if testing the words.

You nodded, your face turning an even brighter shade of red. “I was going to tell you, I swear! But I didn’t know how you’d react.”

JJ swallowed hard, trying to process. His baby sister had a crush. On a boy.

He took a deep breath. “Okay. Who is he?”

You hesitated again, and JJ felt his heart rate spike.

“You don’t know him. He’s… a Kook.”

JJ groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Of course, it couldn’t just be any boy. It had to be a Kook.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

You looked up at him, your expression nervous. “I like him, JJ. He’s nice to me.”

JJ’s protective instincts kicked in, and he couldn’t help but think about every Kook who had ever looked down on him, on your family, on your way of life. But then he saw the way you were watching him, your hands wringing nervously, and his resolve softened.

He sighed, pulling you into a side hug. “Alright, kiddo. I’m not gonna lie—I’m not thrilled about the Kook part. But if he’s good to you, that’s what matters. You deserve someone who’ll treat you right.”

Your face lit up, and JJ felt a small pang in his chest. You weren’t a little kid anymore, but you’d always be his baby sister.

“Thanks, JJ,” you said softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, ruffling your hair. “But don’t think for a second I’m not meeting this guy. And if he so much as looks at you wrong…”

You giggled, and JJ couldn’t help but smile.

For now, he’d let it slide. But deep down, JJ knew he’d always keep an eye out for you—because no one messed with his favorite girl.

[looseduke]

okay insane thought about names and the feelings i have about them as a transgender blended family kid. it requires a leap of logic where the fantasy high parent couples remain dating and get married or otherwise legally bind themselves together but follow me on this for a moment. also i don’t know or care if this follows canon im just deciding it does

gilear took sandra lynn’s last name

could not afford to change it after the divorce

gilear is just one of those ppl who really likes having the same last name as his life partners, doesn’t have to be his name, he just thinks it’s nice

(sandra lynn liked her name and though she has Many Issues and might have changed her name in an attempt at normalcy gilear’s name was definitely something outlandishly stupid and he suggested it first anyway so it worked out)

do u see where im going with this

gilear seacaster.

fabian is furious but this ain’t about him

something so funny about taking your (way funnier if they don’t even get married) girlfriend’s dead husband’s last name

he keeps faeth as a middle name bc it’s still a connection to fig that he values and wants to keep

anyway. jawbone hears about all of this. absolutely loves it. thinks it’s awesome

jawbone o’shaughnessy-faeth!

yes with the apostrophe and the hyphen. yes every time.

he likes the connection to gilear and fig as much as he does the one to sandra lynn <3

when consulted fig was SUPER enthusiastic about another dad. gilear was like sigh. that might as well happen. im already being dunked upon by my mean stepson. go ahead.

okay the grand finale. the reason i even made this fucking post

adaine kills her dad, gets adopted, and starts to wonder if she should change her name

adaine makes amends with her sister, and starts to wonder if she should keep it

jawbone lets her know right away that he’ll support her decision no matter what, but it takes a long time for her to decide

it takes watching gilear and fabian bicker over their shared last name, watching fig get sappy over gilear holding onto the name faeth, watching fig and jawbone get sappy over THEIR shared last name, watching sandra lynn hide a smile whenever it comes up, watching, watching, watching

watching her sister learn and grow and love her unconditionally

she makes her decision, and when her dad brings her home from the fantasy dmv, there’s a new name on her ID

adaine abernant-o’shaughnessy-faeth. yes all three names. yes with the apostrophe. yes with the hyphens. every time

it’s for her dad, yes, for the man who gave her a home, who helped her find her strength, who is always her safe space, but it’s for more then that too

it’s for her sister, who for better or worse is in all of her earliest memories. who never underestimated her. who’s trying, every day

it’s for her sister, who called her awesome on the first day of school. who’s always there for her. who wears her heart on her sleeve and teaches adaine it’s okay to be emotional. who’s her best friend

it’s for the man who took her in when he had next to nothing to offer, who shared his extra garlic knots and vending machine snacks, who hosted his daughters strange friends night after night without question or complaint

and it’s for the elven woman sitting across from her at the dinner table, who understands her greatest fear better then anyone else and has built a life for herself despite her mistakes. who protected her on their quest. who opened her house for about 6 teenagers to live there permanently and anywhere between 3 and 10 more to hang out as much as they want

adaine abernant-o’shaughnessy-faeth, the people’s oracle <3

[michaelinprogress]

Will’s ptsd hc’s

(Please feel free to give thoughts and additions in reblogs!!)

-He’s afraid of the dark, he sleeps with a night light and sometimes on the bad nights he’ll leave his door cracked open or even sleep on the couch or in Jonathan or El’s room

-He hates when people/things touch his neck, or get anywhere near his mouth

-Destroying castle byers was simultaneously very therapeutic and very tragic for him. It was his safe space during childhood, and held a lot of memories with him and Jonathan during a hard time in his life. But at the same time, it’s where he spent a lot of his time in the upside down. It held both very healing and very traumatic memories for him.

-There’s a space heater in his room for when he gets anxious about the cold (Mike keeps one in his basement for him too)

-When the kids play dnd they avoid using any monsters they’ve faced in real life, for obvious reasons

-Will missed Hawkins, but he felt a lot safer in Lenora being so far from where it happened, and also being in the warm climate

-Everyone is always checking in on him post s5 making sure he has his Walkman on him

-Will and El often comfort each other when they wake up from nightmares. Some nights one of them wakes up screaming, and the other rushes in and holds them, silently comforting as best as they can.

-Irrational fear of slugs

-When he gets sick or has allergies, he feels really uncomfortable because of the feeling of congestion. It reminds him of the feeling of coughing up slime and larva and such.

-Avoids going to the hospital or doctors office whenever he can, still feels really suspicious of medical professionals and just doesn’t like being in a clinical setting

-He likes tight spaces, they make him feel safe and like nothing can sneak up on him (might be projecting with this one lmao)

-He gets really nervous about storms. He always hangs out with others when it’s storming, just so he knows it’s not more “now memories”

[in3rci4]

§ THE BLACK PHONE BOYS X ADDICTION PROBLEMS / BAD INFLUENCE CRUSH READER §

WARNINGS : ANGST , MENTION OF MANIPULATION , ADDICTIONS , ALCOHOLISM ,AGRESSION ( VERBAL AND PHYSICAL ) , MANIPULATION , TOXIC ATTITUDES , SPIKING , LOW-KEY FORCING ADDICTION INTO SOME CHARACTERS , INDULGING OF SUBSTANCES, DRUGS , SMOKING , WEED , UNDERAGE CONSUMING , CHARACTERS X READER CONTENT ( SORT OF I GUESS ) , SOME CHARACTERS ARE MENTIONING CONSUMING AS WELL , GUN OWNING , MENTAL INESTABILITY , CRIME COMMITING , PHYSICAL CONSEQUENCES OF CONSUMING , GENDER NEUTRAL ! READER , ETC

Characters included in these head canons : Finney Blake , Gwendolyn Blake ( little mention of her ) , Robin Arellano , Vance Hopper , Bruce Yamada , Billy Showalter and Griffin Stagg

Author's note : If I forgot some warning or I have spelling errors please let me know , and if you feel uncomfortable with the post i recommend you wait for my short and non reader involved version of this one , thanks to @nnooahhsworld for the inspiration !

FINNEY BLAKE

He always liked smart and good faith people ( Donna for example ) , but that changed when he met you on his way to school . His bullies saw the opportunity to jump him and started to chase after him , and distracted , he bumped into you

You pushed him away annoyed , but then , you realized that he was running away from 3 familiar assholes , and just like a light switch , you moved in front of him while he was laying on the ground and told them to fuck off

The little shits didn't believe that you could win against them , so they started to insult you , they were 3 against 1 and a half after all

But little they did know that you had a gun hided in your jacket .

They ran away almost pissing themselves , and you moved on with your life , but Finney couldn't do it that easy

He remembers that morning with a mixed feeling of fear and admiration for you , he can't stop looking at you any chance that he can , Gwen and Robin knows about his crush , but they don't say anything ( or well , maybe they do , but they back off because he gets uncomfortable )

He hated with all his soul the cigarettes and alcohol smell , but after that encounter , he started to feel more comfortable around it , not so disgusted like before . But asides his shyness , he avoids you purposely

He has the hots for you and how badass you are , but babe , you are bad , real bad news , and he knows it

Everytime Finney sees you , you are either covered in your own or someone's else blood , smoking or either laughing with a bottle of beer on the streets alone or with a group of aggressive jerks

If you ever get close to Finney to get to know him better , he won't push you away and will be all kind and polite to you , but don't expect him to go after you .

Neither expect him to go to your defense , he might reluctantly help you after a fight if he saw how bad you ended up or lift you up of the ground if you needed to , but that's it , the more you stay out of his life , the better .

He wishes he could help you , but he had enough dealing with his father's bad habits , he knows how exhausting and draining people with addictions can be and the suffering that they cause to those around them , he won't voluntarily put himself in another situation like that

His heart tells him to go after you and try to help you see other ways , try to heal you , but the same heart along with his mind tells him to keep his distance from you for his own good

So he hopes , truly , that one day you stop living that reckless life and find someone who loves you to settle down , because he can't , and won't be your savior

Maybe in the future , or in another life , you two could be together in a healthy relationship , who knows

Finney is satisfied with watching you from afar , because that's the safe thing to do

ROBIN ARELLANO

You are one of the toughest kids in school like Robin and Vance Hopper ( Moose had lost his title after loosing a fight with him ) , so he obviously knew about your existence , and with time , got the pleasure of becoming one of your friends

You were fun to hang out with , you didn't only made him laugh his ass off and go watch adult movies with him ( not porn don't be dirty minded ) , but you also taught him things that he didn't know about ( since you were more street smarter than him , and he was thankful for it )

And of course , Robin found out about your habits really quick

At first , he didn't care about them , you do you he thought , but ... It was so weird to see you impressed by something or someone , that he gave it a try , just to see your reaction ..

And that was the start of everything .

And he didn't only did it to add more things to his tough guy reputation , he did it to be seen as cool too and share another bond with you , even it was harmful

What ? There's nothing to be worried about , the cigarettes smoke is something that he's used to and he had tried alcohol before , it's not like he drinks and smokes everyday and can afford it !

The more Robin spent time with you , the more he started to lack responsibility , and he was not a responsible person before .

School didn't matter anymore , the fights increased , the smoker scent was part of him now and he would arrive late to his home drunk as fuck scolded by his uncle and poor worried mom

He tried to stop , didn't do it completely , but tried his best for his family

But then you offered him to try the next level , drugs , those that could make him stronger and stay wide awake , or be more relaxed , if that's what he wanted .

For him it was the crossing line , and for good .

He didn't want to mess with those things , and you mocked him for being such a chicken , a maricón , so you both had an argument , where it clicked him :

You were so far gone that you offered him being even more fucked up than he already was , you give 3 shits about what could possibly happen to him , he understood that in case of needing you , having an overdose or a alcoholic coma , you would minimize it , or worse , make him take more and more until his body couldn't take it anymore

He moved on from you really quick and never tried to contact you ever again , you already showed him your fangs , he isn't stupid as you thought he was to stay and die like a dog ( Even after you threatened him to tell everyone about his cowardice , wich ended in a physical fight that he won , and almost gave you a head contusion from the strength and anger of the attacks )

Robin almost stepped in into the most dangerous and addicting shits that the neighborhood could offer , because of you , and he will never forget that , he will never forget how weak and betrayed you made him feel for backing off from it , after trusting you so much with all his being

But the damage was done , he can't quit smoking even if he feels disgusting after it , drinking water or alcohol was the same for him now

A horrible party favor of you and your bad influence in his life .

BRUCE YAMADA

Oh my Lord , you're the cannon event of this guy ...

Bruce met you at a friend's party and he presented you as the " party animal " and " the life of the party " . He had to admit , you were attractive in your way and had some groove on you , dancing with you was a blast

But you were more than just that .

At some point of the night , the music and the people got louder , crazier , it was the best part in Bruce's opinion

The bottles started to go down faster and faster , normally in these parties the drinks had a small amount of alcohol , but this time , they were just regular party drinks

Bruce was drunker than usual , giggling while clumsily dancing , you asked him if he wanted to have more fun that he already had and he agreed without thinking twice

So you put the pill in your tongue , wrapped your hands in his neck and passed it into his mouth , to give him free pass to fairyland

He felt in heaven , the lights were spinning around more colorful and shinier , the music was now vibrating trough his bones , his body like feather , a new whole sensation washed all over him ...

The party was over , and he didn't saw you again the following weeks , what was on that kiss that made his head spin like a record ? He needed whatever was in your mouth a second time

The next month he had the worst games streak of his life , he couldn't stop losing again and again , and the pressure started to put a heavy weight over him

Bruce needed a miracle , a distraction , so after his extra practice session , he went to another party in the same friend's house , and " lucky " him he found you once again

It was like a deja Vu , both of you danced , laughed and yelled the lyrics of the music , but this time , with him being sober , you offered him to do what happened the last time

And that's how you dragged him to hell with you .

He came back to his old self back again , his winning streak too , taking his team to the victory like he always do , celebrating with you party after party , getting addicted , to you , every single time .

So much energy , yet so much loose of control . He would go out to get more of it outside the parties , sneak at the night when his parents were asleep , starting to believe that if he took them before the games started he would 100 % win for sure

Without warning , you disappeared , and the abstention was driving him crazy . He couldn't concentrate in class , he couldn't grab the bat without feeling a weird itch on his fingers and more times that he could count he had to apologize for feeling "nervous " and being careless with his words . So he asked a friend for some weed to smoke until you showed up your ass to school , but the two got caught and his friend spilled everything to not get suspended

His family found out about it and were so disappointed , mad , yet worried too . They agreed to not tell anyone or send him to an rehabilitation center , but from now on , he had restricted and limited permission to go out and more studying to do ( not like he could call the shots anyway )

It was terrible , but even if what it felt like a eternity for him , in a short time , he fortunately recovered , and started to have much healthier life than before , zero consuming and having innocent fun with a small group of friends

He regrets so much being so careless to the point of doing that bullshit in school with other kids around , letting himself fell so low , but he's glad that he made it out . You never showed up on the town ever again , some rumors says that you are in a juvenile correctional center , others that you were dead , or doing drugs somewhere else

Bruce , without any intention of being mean or cruel , couldn't care less , he moved on from that lifestyle , maybe it wasn't his destiny to stay by your side , maybe , the future has something bigger waiting for him

BILLY SHOWALTER

You two knew each other since you were kids , really good friends that slowly got apart from each other . It wasn't years later that you started to talk with him again on his way back home from school , inviting him to the big parties of the neighborhood or having casual conversations about the weather , exams , latest gossip , etc

You were still you , but something was off , and Billy knew it , although he couldn't tell what exactly changed specifically in you

Until one morning of his regular paper news delivering route he saw you walking bare feet in your party clothes and a black eye . He stopped immediately to ask you what happened , but you couldn't stop laughing and talking non sense

He scrunched his nose when the smell of alcohol hit him coming from your body and mouth , but he sucked it up and walked you home and made sure you got inside , meanwhile giving you a speech about how bad underage drinking is not like you could pay attention to it though

He started to worry about your safety and kept an eye on you to make sure you were ok , but you would dismiss his concern and told him that you were fine , it wasn't that bad , right ?

Billy started to slowly , but surely , parenting you , he had to stop whatever he was doing or delivering in the middle of the rush just to help when you when you were bleeding the hell out of you after a fight , laying on the street passed out drunk or with little clothes when it was cold

It was a never ending cycle , he would take you home , try to persuade you to quit that way of living , you would say yes and then go to a party to get fucked up , and repeat over and over again

Billy thought that it would be a good idea going out with you to the parties to make sure you stayed on line , but oh you made things so difficult ...

You would disappear into the crowd , vomit over someone else's clothes or shoes , drink an entire bottle by yourself and even seek fights for fun

Those times lasted short because he couldn't deal anymore with the embarrassment of apologizing for you to the people in the party for your actions , the frustration of having to argue about something that you both agreed on before , your childish attitudes and getting involved in the middle of fights that you started or someone else's wanted to with you

Then you both had an argument , can't you see ? He's genuinely sad to see his dear friend this shitty , and it angered him how you're not able to understand that it's hurting you , that he's doing everything that he can to keep you safe but it's useless because you search trouble anyway

But you told him to go and fuck off if he was so tired of you .

And exhausting all of this babysitting and chasing of someone that was falling apart uncontrollably , he stopped talking to you .

It hurts him to leave you like this , but he couldn't be your nurse , dad , friend , therapist , driver or anything that had to do with taking care of you after you searched being that way on the first place

He needs for his own mental and emotional health let you go , but it's not easy , the memory of who you used to be sticks with him , but that person doesn't exist no more , and he can't keep going just for that reason

Sometimes he watches you from afar wondering if you're clean now or still consuming bullshit , but Billy won't ask you , he doesn't have to anymore .

VANCE HOPPER

He doesn't remember how he met you , was at the records store ? At the Grab 'n Go ? A tree lined street ? He doesn't have a fucking clue

But since he got close to you , he didn't only found himself to have a lot in common with you , but safe as well , comfortable , finally someone that understands and treats him right !

If only he knew that you are everything but safety ....

You lit cigarettes for him even if Vance didn't told you to , buy beers or Vodka and tell him to take a " sip " , to not be such a pussy , and he will never say no , his fragile masculinity and internalized misogyny didn't let him to do so

Besides , who gives a shit ?

Exactly .... Nobody , you don't either , and that's what matters

Sitting on rooftops or in the sidewalk drinking and laughing your asses off was so great , play who could blow more smoke out of your mouths and throwing bottles as far as you could , sometimes to a moving car or bike for the giggles and adrenaline of running away from the angry owners

Who cares if it makes Vance forget how shitty his life is ? Who cares if he gets a smile from you by doing it ? It's nothing new from him , what changes if he gets more greedy with you ?

One day he found himself cornered by a decision . You wanted to spicy up things before getting ready to go to the AC / DC concert , be more crazy and sniff some angel dust , but ... He never did drugs before , what if he does it wrong and you laugh at him ? What if his body doesn't receive it well and make a mess of him ?

Since you know how to manipulate him with toxic sexism , the only thing that you have to do was say that he had to grow some balls , because even the faggots can do it

And like that , he started to move his head closer to your small living room table where the lines were at , slowly , nervous , his hand shaking except for the one that was pushing one side of his nostrils

Man ... It felt so fucking weird how fast the dust went inside his nose and dissolved like magic in him

But he felt alive ... So alive ... He felt stronger , powerful , he didn't felt like a boy , no , he felt like a man , a man that didn't fear anything or anyone at all , he can fight with his bare hands an entire army if he wanted to !

Poor kid , that searching of ecstasy would take him to a another level wrongness in his life ... You corrupted his already damaged soul and took him to the darkness as well ... Good job .

Fuck off school , fuck off family , friends , the police , the entire country can do it too , now it's you , him , the narcotics , the cigarettes , the alcohol and heavy metal , whoever tries to mess with you both , will be beaten to death

Crime commiting would soon follow the line , but In Vance head there's too much shit to let space for worries , besides , not like you would ever betray him or some shit like that ....

GRIFFIN STAGG

He was eating his lunch alone on the last table of the cafeteria when you sat next to him and started to talk with him like you were all time buddies

Griffin responded cautiously all your questions , did his old bullies remembered he existed and want to pull a prank on him ? Do you want to seal him something or convince him to join one of the school shitty clubs ?

Day after day you would do the same thing . He wasn't sure of your intentions , you had what people called " the crazy eyes " , clothes were near crossing the line of school dress code or falling apart , strange laugh , funny smell ... And you space out a little too much while talking ( a little bit creepy on his opinion )

But you are always nice to him , and you had a really good sense of humor , so he eventually warmed up to you , may or may developing a small crush ...

A cold morning you grabbed his hand to follow you to the bathroom , you were coughing a lot lately , but he thought you catched a cold .... Again

You opened your backpack excited and showed him all the varieties of joints and cigarettes , and since he was your friend , he could had any for free !

Griffin started to panic near having an attack , what if you get caught ? Who is sealing you these things ? Are you a dealer ? Do you want him to buy your stuff ? Or do you want him to give it to other kids !?

You only laughed , like always , and told him to calm down , that you smoke all the time and you're still alive

He couldn't handle it , he ran away out of the school confused about what he'd just saw , is this the reason why you're always coughing ? Is this the reason why your lungs are so screwed up ? Do you hang around with dangerous people ?

Scared , decided to avoid you at all costs .

But you found him after 2 weeks since the last encounter , and told you him that you were sorry , that you didn't meant to scare him away , that he's your best friend and other sweet things that made Griffin feel bad for ignoring you

Did you promised him to stop and change ? Yes

How many times since then ? Enough for a normal person to give up counting

Unluckily for this little guy , time will not never change who you are . He's so , so attached to you that he keeps forgiving you , always believing in your words and fake promises , always following you like a lost puppy worried about your well being

Please stop it , Griffin is tired of looking out for you , he can't guess when or where you're gonna end up the next time to find your vice

[modernday-orpheus]

Okay, hear me out. If Tim idolized Batman instead of Robin, Bruce would be dead.

Disclaimer: I am not perfect and don't know everything there is to know about comics! Some shit here may be accidentally based on fanon rather than canon! Please be nice!

Tim, of course, respects and looks up to Batman. Bruce is his mentor and his father, so it's safe to assume he loves him as well. But his Hero™ is and always has been Robin, Dick at first but especially Jason judging by the timeline. Most people in Gotham view Robin as an addendum, an extra, nothing more than a kid sidekick. They’re disappointed if her shows up without Batman, and question his abilities. Tim’s hero worship combined with his knowledge of their identities, in this case, allows him to see things as they truly are. For Tim, Robin is a light in the dark, a balancing act with Batman, not his sidekick but his partner. He’s a necessary part of the Dynamic Duo because while Batman represents Justice, Robin represents this Hope for a better future. Sure, he’s just a kid; by all accounts he shouldn’t even be out there fighting, but maybe, if he is, no other kids won’t have to fight as hard just to survive. He represents the soul of Gotham, underneath the criminality and corruption; a city full of people, tough-as-nails, saying “No, fuck you, this is our city” despite the constant danger. He represents the people who come together in times of crisis, who help out their neighbors when each new disaster strikes. He’s trained in martial arts, of course, and he’s a skilled fighter, but Robin’s primary job is always the safety of civilians. He’s the one that gets scared little kids out of a burning building while Batman keeps the villain of the week busy, the one who stays behind with SA victims walks them home because Batman is too much for those things. He uses fear where Robin uses kindness, compassion, and love.

Tim sees this. So, when Robin dies and Batman is getting rougher, more violent, more careless, he notices. He notices that Bruce is picking bigger fights than he can handle, taking hits he could dodge, breaking four ribs instead of two, barely making it back to the manor each night. If he idolized Bruce, at this point, he would trust him the way the rest of Gotham does. He would assume it was a rough patch, and Bruce would recover, and that Batman would always save the day. He would see a solitary hero, the way Batman wants to be seen. He wouldn’t think it necessary to reach out to Dick for help, and even if he did he would think Nightwing would be enough help. He wouldn’t understand the importance of the Robin mantle, the specific role that needs to be filled. Nightwing can represent a lot of things; fluidity, positive change, and freedom come to mind immediately, but there's no world where Nightwing represents Gotham and Hope the same way Robin does. He can’t serve the same purpose anymore, not in that uniform. Bruce would die at Two-Face’s hands in that very first arc, I have not a single doubt in my mind.

Then, as Tim comes back to Gotham post-training and actually starts to help out, it’s common for him to be the conscience. He falls easily into the role of Robin, the role that makes him protector of the innocent. He’s not like Jason, raised by these streets in a very different way, though I wouldn’t say either is better or worse. Where Jason struggled and had to fight, out there each night pre-Bruce out of necessity rather than choice. He knows all the best hiding spots and back-alleys because it kept him alive. He chooses to be Robin because he needed a hero and wants to be that for other people. Tim chose those streets, and he chose them for Robin. He knows the best hiding spots because they put him closer to the action, because he raised himself on all those cold nights alone on rooftops with his camera. He knows the back-alleys because they made him faster, made it so his little kid legs could keep up with his hero so he wouldn’t miss a moment. He lives for Gotham nights, for the thrill of seeing everything, getting to know everything. He chooses to be Robin because where his parents failed to teach him how to be a good person, Robin stepped up. He bases his morals off of watching Robin help people, and because he’s a kid he assumes that it’s normal to behave with altruistic intentions and prioritize others.

There’s a point to be made here, briefly, about how this lends itself to Tim’s self-worth issues and insecurities. If his job is to assist, supplement, guide, and fill in the blanks when Batman fails, he doesn’t have the option of failure. He expects that how he does his job, as long as the job gets done, doesn’t matter because he doesn’t view himself as the hero. He never views himself as a main character in his own story; he truly thinks he’s doing what anyone else in his position would gladly do. This is why he overworks himself, why he’s known for living, for lack of a better term “like a goddamn ninja turtle”. It’s why he’s always Robin or Red Robin or even his public persona Timothy Drake-Wayne but rarely Just Tim. Very few people get to see Just Tim, normal Tim, because if they’re seeing that then he’s not doing his job.

All of these factors lead to Tim’s conclusion that if no one else can get Batman out of this state, least of all Batman himself, of course the next logical conclusion is that it’s his responsibility to step up and do the job. Furthermore, it’s only because he idolized Robin that he can fill the role properly because his relationship to Bruce, especially in the beginning, is nothing like Dick and Jason’s relationships with Bruce. He’s not his kid, doesn’t bring Robin’s joy and hope home, so instead he has to work twice as hard in the field to keep Bruce away from the edge. He’s the first of the Robins to view himself as Batman’s protector rather than the other way around, and he’s the only one who Bruce acknowledges when he tries to fill that role. Bruce accepts it when Tim manages him, reorganizes his files, forces him into the medbay, even when he very occasionally goes as far as to outright scold him rather than just pressure him to make the right choices. He’s given an inch and takes a mile, because he believes (rightfully, in my opinion) that if he doesn't then all hope is lost. And Bruce allows him to help, to guide, as much as he’s willing to because he’s not his kid first. He’s Robin first.

This mentality carries over to the Red Robin arc, where Tim spends an entire year chasing after Bruce to save him. He does it alone, and although he asks for help he doesn’t actually expect it. Furthermore, because his morals are based off of Robin in his infinite altruism rather than Batman with his rigid rules, he doesn’t mind working with Ra’s al Ghul. He doesn’t mind betraying Ra’s by killing his men, by blowing up his bases. He doesn’t tell Bruce about it to protect Bruce from having another murderer under his roof, and because he doesn’t think it matters enough. Bruce isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to save him. I believe he would have been if any other Robin had shown up. He and Dick have had a strained relationship for years, he and Jason aren’t even on speaking terms, Stephanie was so often full of rage at him throughout her run as Robin and is dead at the time, and he doesn’t even really have a relationship with Damian. Aside from all of that, he’s assumed dead. He can’t assume the Justice League will spend their time saving a dead man. And yet, despite all of that, he isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to pull him out of the time stream. He’s disoriented, sure, and a little surprised it was possible for him to be saved at all, and he even wants to hear about how he figured it out, but his doubt is never placed on the fact that Tim would be the one to understand and tear the world apart to bring him home.

I believe this also helps to explain Tim’s struggle with letting go of the Robin mantle, outside of the fact that he was the first to have the choice to move on taken away from him. If he’s always been Robin first, always felt the weight of that on his shoulders, what is he supposed to do when his very identity is stripped away right as he loses everyone who got to really know him as Just Tim? How is he supposed to cope with having to reconstruct his own idea of who he is with no one around to remind him? Humans are social creatures. We learn and grow with and because of each other. He’s encouraged by Dick to grow quickly out of Robin to fill a new role, which is a nice sentiment from Dick’s own point of view, but he’s lacking a sturdy foundation. Not because it’s not actually there, or because he lacks personality or morals, but because he truly views himself and all of his good decisions as just what anybody would do and what Robin is supposed to do. He doesn’t consider that following these morals makes them his, makes them the building blocks for wherever he goes next, he considers them to be traits of a character he no longer plays; a purpose he no longer serves.

(This is the second time I've posted this, so if you see another version that's why!)

[becauseplot]

Anyway for entirely justifiable reasons (<-is a glutton for angst) I need Chayanne and Tallulah to be present when the hummingbirds come around or a note about the 'wise old crow' appears in their house, causing qPhil to have one of his derealization/reality-questioning episodes. I need it. I need it to happen SO bad. Because they’ve seen Phil get roughed up in a fight, they’ve seen him angry, they’ve seen him wary and even nervous, but they have NEVER seen him doubt like that.

People have already made posts talking about how the cage-for-a-cage/child-of-the-sky stuff has been particularly rough on qPhil, who relies heavily on his constant vigilance, keen senses, and hyper-awareness of his surroundings for reassurance. He's the kind of guy who walks into a room and has already charted at minimum two escape routes by the time he takes a seat, you know? He sees and processes and stores information on everything, at all times, and he uses this to act in the best interest of his and his loved ones' collective survival.

His kids see this side of him too, most significantly in the ways that he looks after them: always keeping an eye on the back of the group, never far from Tallulah, and constantly analyzing Chayanne's fighting style to give helpful critique to optimize his attacks. Chayanne and Tallulah know that everything he's ever done was to protect them. Also, he's always there to offer them advice when they're feeling lost, and even if he doesn't have all the answers they need, he gives enough reassurances and promises to put their minds at ease. Phil is confident in what he knows. In their eyes, he is strong. He is a fortress, safe and impenetrable.

You could say that about a lot of children's perceptions of their parents/guardians/mentors. The older, guiding forces in our lives always seemed strong and infallible to us as kids. That's why it was always unnerving to see them get sick, or get stressed, or cry. Observing weakness in those people felt so, so wrong because we never considered the fact that they were capable of it; it was just impossible.

So, the situation: Phil is suffering in a way that makes him question the very same reality that he was a master of not too long ago. Whenever it happens, he goes quiet, looks around, mutters to himself, breathes shakily, fidgets. He is visibly unnerved and uncertain.

If Chayanne and Tallulah are there, they're gonna notice---they're perceptive, just like him. I'd imagine they'd try to ask him if he's okay, and he'd reassure them that he's fine, and maybe that's enough the first time. But, as more incidents arise, and as time goes on, they start to see more of this out-of-nowhere uneasiness, fear, from him, which is worrying, especially because he won't tell them why.

NOW. Phil has been upfront about a lot of things with Chayanne and Tallulah in the past. For example, during the height of the code attacks, Phil told them everything he ever learned about the codes, every single new development, to ensure that his kids were well informed and prepared. He was frank about the threat on their lives because to sugar-coat anything would be doing them a disservice. It was important they knew all of the cold, hard facts, even if it took away even more of their precious childhood innocence. He values their happiness, but safety comes first. It has always come first.

But this is different. It's not cold hard facts. Phil doesn't know what to believe anymore. When the hummingbirds come around and his reality comes into question, he doesn't know what is real, what he can trust, what is fact. His senses have been compromised. Hell, he's still trying to convince himself that he's not going crazy when all evidence seems to suggest that he's losing his goddamn mind. He doesn't know what to tell his kids, so he tells them nothing.

So now here stands Chayanne and Tallulah. There is something that is scaring their dad, and he won't tell them what is, so on top of the knowledge that their unwavering father is, in fact, capable of true, genuine fear, he's suddenly keeping things from them. Their dad is keeping things from them because he is scared. And I can't imagine a realization more terrifying than that.

[garrien-thorne]

Warning; This is an exceptionally long post, but I've semi fleshed out the backstory for Garrien. If you read it all (or any of it honestly) I'm beyond appreciative :,)

I'm just so invested in this fictional guy in my head 😅

• For starters his was born in 9:28 Dragon, which means he was a child during the Fifth Blight!

• he grew up as a city elf in the free marches, though he did not have a family. his parents died when he was quite young. he doesn't remember much about them, and has no recollection of how they died. He has vague memories of his father singing Dalish lullabies to him, never the words but the melodies stuck with him...

he was still cared for by others in the alienage and would spend time with other families, he was basically everyone's son. the very definition of "it takes a village". They made sure he always had a place to sleep, he was always fed and clothed. Safe. Loved.

• his magic manifested when he was 8 and he was forcibly taken from his home and thrown into the Circle. When he was 9 and events in Kirkwall came to a head, an older mage helped him to escape...fearing the writing on the wall and knowing what fearful Templars could be capable of.

• Obviously a 9 year old out by themselves in Thedas, magic abilities or not, would be incredibly unsafe. He ran for a while, never staying in one place, and surviving on the sheer kindness of strangers in small villages, and his own self preservation instincts.

He was eventually taken in by an elf named Adahl'en, after he'd been chased into the woods by humans for being an Apostate, he was badly wounded and this is how he gets the scars across his face. Adahl'en found him bleeding and starving in the woods, well and truly left for dead.

After he nursed the boy back to health, he basically adopted him and that worked out well for Garrien because it meant he wouldn't be sent back to the Circle (bc for all he knew, the Circles were still a possibility, he didn't know much about the Mage Rebellion. Just that he needed to be careful who he used magic around.)

Adahl'en raised him from there on and though he knew next to nothing about magic, he did his best to attempt to teach Garrien how to use his skills. This is how Garrien ended up having his devil may care, "I absolutely will fight in melee range with this staff and there is fuck all you can do to stop me" attitude. He largely used his staff to bludgeon, instead of as a catalyst, in large part because he learned from his experiences that relying on his magic could draw the wrong sort of attention and was more trouble than it was worth.

• When he was 18, Adahl'en died. It was not a tragic death, nor was it in any way violent. Garrien honored him the best way that he knew, trying to follow the customs and traditions that he remembered from when he was just another kid in the Alienage. It was clumsy and he was certain that he'd messed it up somehow, but he knew that the man he'd come to know as his father would have appreciated the effort all the same.

• He couldn't bring himself to stay there after Adahl'en was gone, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. And being alone again sent his mind back to when he was ripped from his home...tossed in the Circle and forced to keep his head down and walk on eggshells to survive...and then pushed back out into a world he didn't know how to navigate, where many people felt justified in despising his existence. He felt like it was only a matter of time until his life took a turn for the worst again, and like the past several years were all just some brief reprieve from reality.

• So he left. He ran, more like. He didn't particularly know what he was running from, but he knew he couldn't stop. If he stopped then he would die, all the horrible events of his childhood would catch him. In a way, for those few short months after his father figure's death, he was that frightened child alone in the woods all over again.

• In 9:47 he meets and assists a group of Wardens protecting a group of miners from a darkspawn incursion, one of whom was named Ronan Thorne. He would never admit but at the time this was motivated in some small part by a subconscious death wish. He was so tired of running, of being afraid of everything around him. He was blighted during this attack and was fully prepared to finally die. But Thorne offered him another way out. The Joining.

It was sold to him as a new purpose, a way for him to be free from his fear of persecution, and a way for his life to have meaning. A way for the world to finally make complete sense and for him to have a Permanent place in it. And Garrien leapt at that chance. He survived and at age 19 he was officially a Grey Warden.

Over the next few months and his eventually arrival at Weisshaupt Fortress as a new recruit, he became close friends with Warden Thorne to the point they were like siblings. It only made sense to him that he would be a Thorne too, as a way of turning a page on his past, and to show his appreciation for the Warden that showed him a new path.

By the time Veilguard rolls around Garrien Thorne is 26 years old. He can be standoffish and extremely curt, he's wary of strangers to a pretty large degree. But he's also kind, if he sees someone in need of help he does not hesitate to offer. He remembers the people from the Alienage, how they did their best to keep him safe, even though none of them were his own blood. He remembers Adahl'en taking him into his home, and allowing him to finally let his guard down. Giving him the space to find himself and supporting him when he decided to live as a man. He remembers Ronan, his brother, who helped him find his purpose.

Garrien is good.

Those closest to him, will see him at his easiest. His voice softens and he smiles so wide at his own dumb jokes. His straightforward demeanor disappears and he seems like a completely different person. Garrien Thorne is simultaneously the stoic hero, and the easy-going bard.

[isleofdarkness]

Heyyyyy

Can we get some more AK lore? 🥺

-birb

Absolutely (TW for suicide attempt in Nora's paragraph)

Anxelin doesn't really want to be queen. She'll do it if she has to, she just doesn't like making that decision without Ginny there, because Ginny is the eldest and technically the Crown Princess and Anxelin doesn't want to take that from her without her permission. It'll probably be Ruby who takes over as queen when Rapunzel and Eugene retire.

Arturius has scars on his face- I know I've mentioned them briefly. He's almost got a Glasgow smile like Rose, but his scars are way longer. The scar on the right side of his face curves drastically upwards at around halfway through his cheek and goes up his temple and into his hairline, and the scar on the left side of his face does a U-turn and goes across his nose (it doesn't affect his nose like Maverick's affects hers, his is just a surface scar,) and then follows his cheekbone across the side of his head. He charges people $100 for questions about his scars because he thinks that "what happened" is pretty obvious- someone cut up his face. The reason he lives on the Isle part-time is because he's not safe in Auradon or even in Camelot. Gods only know if Beast will kidnap him again. He's a great fighter but there's also the matter of if he kills Auradon guards, it'll cause an international incident and that'll cause problems. So he stays on the Isle when necessary- sometimes, the Isle is safer for him than Auradon and Camelot.

Winter's Thoutube channel is a lot like Legal Eagle. She discusses laws, reviews the accuracy of legal media (like Legally Blonde,) discusses the crimes committed in media and the charges and sentences they would get, and discusses some legal issues. She's famous for her long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, and giving people common sense rules (like "do not film your crimes and post them on social media") with the same voice as a teacher telling her students not to eat the markers. Her Ace Attorney videos are legendary.

Nora attempted suicide a few years ago (like, two,) via drug overdose, which killed her kidneys and liver. She got a partial liver transplant from Isak (he volunteered) and a kidney transplant from a random donor. She hates herself for that attempt now. Her brother was the one who found her and it traumatized him even worse than he already was. He blamed himself. They're both getting better, but it was hard on the entire family.

Liang and her brother only go to Auradon Prep so that Yi-Min doesn't need to. Yi-Min stays in China where she's safe from any bullshit Beast might pull, because even though they're important as children of the famous Fa Mulan, she's more important as the princess. If something happens to them, China will be pissed but ultimately fine. If something happens to her, it's a threat to the monarchy of China. So they do what they can to put the target on their backs instead of hers.

Tavasaya ran away from the orphanage he and his sister lived at because the orphanage started to go downhill and the matrons were getting abusive, plus kids were going missing. He was worried for Devika, who was catching more and more punishments for the crime of being HSN autistic and who couldn't really protect herself. It got bad enough that he feared for her life, so he took her and ran. He spent the next few years doing everything he could to support her and keep her happy and healthy, until the place he was "working" at (being human trafficked in) got raided by the Maldonia secret service for human trafficking. This was a very big bust, so big that Naveen was there in the aftermath to help the survivors. Devika and Tavasaya were staying in a kind of halfway house after this and he knew they needed more help than most foster parents would be able to provide, so he and his family decided to take them in. It took a long time for Tav to feel safe there, but he does.

Aziz has always opposed the Isle because that's where they sent his grandfather to. Auradon took his grandfather, his baba's father, and stuck him on the Isle for petty reasons and he will never forgive that

[smallnico]

when you made the comic about wyll saying that thing about orin i liked that the him inside his thought bubble didnt have the post-transformation horns and eye. a thoughtful little touch, it made me contemplate the ghost of his character arc (sorry if this is rude to the developers its just how i feel.) i also thought the comic was good overall. thanks ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

AUH NO THANK YOU <333

yeah i'm so glad people noticed and enjoyed that detail!! i love wyll so dearly and i also (with love to larian for everything they Did do) think he suffered a bit from the last-ish minute changes they made to his character. they were necessary changes, and they made him who he is today, but he didn't get as much thorough and layered development as some of the other companions did. he and karlach are both in this camp lmao, and i believe for the same reason. they didn't become who they are until pretty late in the development process, unlike someone like astarion, who's been himself since very early on.

all this to say, i love wyll and i am determined to explore what is there as best as i can, and i fucking love taking little details and pulling them out. wyll is a confident person who outwardly states that 'self-doubt' is one of the most dangerous monsters a person could fight, and he tends to double down on his confident persona every time something happens to rattle that confidence. moments like the tiefling party illustrate this for me very clearly -- if you wander around with him in the emerald grove post-devilification, a lot of key npcs will say to the effect of "wyll, what in the fuck happened to you", or react with fear and uncertainty. they're willing to accept it given any amount of time and thought, but there's not nothing to his worry that people see him as a monster, and of course, he's already been through the trauma of that same snap judgement by his father, so. he puts on a brave face and keeps his distance from the people he fears he makes uncomfortable, because what else are you going to do? enforce your own uncertain presence in front of regular, good people who are just... trying to live their lives? having a good time at a party? they don't want to be scared. you've been working your whole life to try and keep people like them safe so they don't have to feel scared or unsafe. you are getting in the way. this isn't for you. you aren't welcome here. it does no good to argue that point when you could just keep your chin up and leave.

of course, that's sad as hell, are you fucking kidding me? wyll deserves better than that, but he won't accept better because he's not the type to ask for grace or patience from others, and he's from a background where he's not confident he will receive it -- his father's grace is one thing, but think for a second about how he talks about ulder ravengard's personal history as well: ravengard sr. is the son of a tradesman serving a role meant for patriars. i don't doubt that all that comes with its own baggage and passed-down high standards. as soon as ravengard sr. let his guard down, you know a flock of upper-class baldurians was just waiting to tear him apart for it, because you see them do the same thing to gortash even though he's literally mind-controlling several of them. i don't doubt that ulder ravengard instilled in wyll a driving need to not only be better than other men, surer than other men, more dependable, reliable, with more sterling integrity than other men at all costs, remember the words of balduran, memorize the values of the city, love baldur's gate more than other men, be ready to face them and prove these things to them at all times because they are always testing you. it's hard to have the most demanded of you at all times, and it can create the kind of man wyll is: a man who sees self-doubt and hesitation as a monster, worse than a mind flayer or a devil. and he knows from experience (again, from ulder ravengard himself) that flagging for a second, not being able to explain yourself sufficiently to the people around you, is enough to get you cast out and shunned forever.

but it's not possible for a human being to live like that. they're impossible standards for a reason. wyll has a flawless facade of confidence, but he's not immune to self-doubt and angst under the surface, and this comes out when you play as him or investigate some of the details he drops in a regular tav/durge playthrough, and his devil transformation really does shake his confidence. look:

all of a sudden he's using 'i guess' and 'maybe' and 'could' and 'i might', more uncertain language, to say nothing of what he's actually saying. he's been put in a position where he thinks people will never see the wyll underneath again unless he asks it of them, something he has been conditioned to never expect people to do -- if you have to ask, you're not projecting a solid enough image of confidence and skill and good leadership. then there's the sheer body horror and dysmorphia of minding your own business and one day your boss physically transforms you into a monster forever. wyll is trying so hard at any given moment to not let it bother him, but it so clearly does, and it would bother anyone -- but wyll ravengard is supposed to be better than anyone, better than a normal man. he lives inside stories of heroes and hyperbolic idioms, Things One Says about Heroes, because he's never been allowed to be a normal man. he had to sneak out of the house to play hopscotch with lower city kids. to me that says everything. he has been taught to lead an idealized existence free of doubt, but that just means he's gotten very good at hiding his doubts and anxieties, his inconsistencies, his human error. he has so much trouble facing the fact that he also experiences internal conflict, just like anyone.

he spares karlach because she's an innocent, because it's the right thing to do, but he struggles with making that decision because he knows it's going to hurt him, and he refuses for a long time to admit that to himself, much less anyone else, because it makes him feel lesser. it makes him feel like the worst person on the planet to admit that he was afraid for his own life, essentially staring down the barrel of a gun to say no to mizora when faced with an innocent in need of protection, even though he wouldn't dream of even making a good person mildly uncomfortable for two minutes while they get used to the way he looks.

part of my vision for wyll's development is just, him getting a little bolder with the things he says, because we all know he says some out of pocket shit for no reason, and part of why that is so funny to me is because he says those things with all the confidence of a train barrelling forward, because of course he does, he's wyll ravengard, he has to be everything to everyone, he can't do something as human as cringe or twitch an eye and go 'ah. nope, that's not what i meant' when he blurts out something thoughtless, or something that sounded better in his head. i like the idea of turning into a monster being the thing that eventually makes him more comfortable with being human. part of letting your guard down around your friends is saying stuff you think they'd get a kick out of even if it doesn't fit the perfect image of the hero you're trying to be, or saying something that comes out wrong and letting yourself cringe when it wasn't received the way you wanted it to be. letting yourself let go of the idealized version of yourself and trusting your friends enough to know that they won't think less of you for it, because they still know you would rather die than let an innocent person get hurt, even if you do feel scared for yourself in the process.

tl;dr yeah i like to depict wyll slightly awkward and nervous. let the man be a human being and vulnerable for god's sakes he's been through enough. i love him

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

Post COLS what if- the war never happened Malec didn't get back together and life goes on.. Maybe they stay friends Alec becomes the consul the work together a lot maybe friends with benefit maybe a lot of longing or jealousy or whatever your take of it I would love to read it!

Alexander Gideon Lightwood

The name hovers in the air, bright like the shining sun. Like an irrefutable fact that no one can change now.

His name.

Him.

The Consul.

Alec has everything today.

Or almost everything.

Jace and Clary wrap him in a hug as the room cheers up at the results. He’s never expected this—out of all the things he’d wanted to become as a kid, consul was never one of them because Alec never let himself dream that far.

Dreams aren’t for people like Alec. Especially after he lost his most important dream.

But regardless, Alec is ecstatic today because now he has so much power to change things.

So many laws he can change.

Alec has a list.

But the first person Alec wants to inform this about isn’t here. Alec wants to change that. He wants to create a world where no one gets left behind.

After an exhausting day of proceedings and greetings, he finally portals back home.

Home isn’t the institute anymore.

It’s not Magnus’s loft either.

Home is a small 2 bedroom apartment in Brooklyn that Alec moved into a few years back.

Alec, who never fully felt home at the New York institute found a home in a warlock’s sanctuary. And even if he doesn’t have access to that, he can never go back to the institute.

Out of all the things Alec learned from Magnus, this one stands to be the most important—that a home, should always, always be a sanctuary.

It should be safe.

As much as Alec loves the institute, it’s not a safe place for everyone and Alec wants his house to be a refugee for others. A place where anyone can come without fear. The world that Alec wants to create requires that.

When he reaches home, there’s a surprise party for him and while Alec is exhausted, he smiles at everyone around him. Alec, who never believed love could be so easy for him knows now, how much he’s loved.

“Alexander.”

Before he can even control it, his face changes into a smile and Alec turns to greet the man.

“Magnus, hi.”

“Hi, darling.”

“You came.”

“Of course, I came,” Magnus smiles at him. There’s an obnoxiously large hat on his head that say “Legalise Free Ice-Cream.”

“What’s this?” Alec laughs.

“I heard big news. This is my first formal request to the new Consul,” Magnus grins, pointing at his head.

Alec shakes his head fondly.

“I figured that you would be too busy from now on, so I decided now would be the time to get all the favours I can.”

His cheeks turn red as he blushes. “Shut up.”

There’s a few second of comfortable silence as Magnus peers at him.

“How does it feel?” He asks, finally.

Even after everything, Alec can never lie to Magnus. Neither does he want to.

“I don’t think it’s hit me yet,” he says honestly. “I’m the Consul.”

Magnus beams. “Of course you are. There is no one else I see more fitting for this role.”

“Thank you.”

“Your welcome.”

Alec shakes his head, “Not for the congratulations. But for everything. You made me better.”

“Alex—“

“You did. Just accept it.”

“Okay,” Magnus smiles sweetly at him, but Alec can see the blush.

They have a few drinks and Alec loses Magnus in the crowd a few times. And then he keeps on finding him again and again. Always gravitating together.

It’s a cruel, cruel twist of fate.

Years ago, Alec had believed that it would be impossible for them to be in the same room again. To be able to talk. To be friends but life proves him wrong once again.

They found each other again after the breakup.

Just in a different way.

Magnus is still the person that Alec loves the most in the world. Still, the very breath inside his chest.

They’re just not together anymore.

But Alec’s okay with it as long as he gets Magnus in his life.

“So, what’s your first order of business as the new chief in town?” Magnus jokes.

Alec frowns. “I’m not really sure. There’s a lot I want to do but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that. Just because I’m the consul I can’t—“

“Breathe,” Magnus calms him down. “You have all the time. You’re like ten hours into your term, darling.”

“Hmm. There’s one thing that’s on my mind though,” he bites his lips. Not sure how many will react. Not wanting to see the reaction either.

“What?”

Alec inhales deeply. “I want to make marriages between shadowhunters and downworlders legal.”

He avoid Magnus’s gaze at that not because of what he’ll see on the warlock’s face but because of what Magnus might see on his.

Longing has become a part of Alec now. He’s okay with it. He doesn’t want Magnus to see, though.

They’ve long since walked around the boundary of being friends, Alec doesn’t want to shake that.

He still doesn’t know a lot about Magnus. The man has shared a lot in the past few years but there’s still a lot that Alec doesn’t know. Things that Magnus might never share with him.

“What?”

“Hmmmm. I’ve been thinking for a while. Remember Jian? I was thinking of what he said, how it feels when your love is prohibited by the world. Helen and Aline too—they’ve been together for years but the world doesn’t recognise that. I think people deserve that.”

He finally musters the courage to look at Magnus. There’s a dumbfounded expression on his face and something akin to pain. Alec’s not sure what to make of it.

“What do you think?” He hesitates.

“It’s uh—it’s a great idea. You’re a great idea,” Magnus speaks but then closes his eyes. “I meant, it’s a great idea, Alec. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how I’ll make it happen but yeah, it’s been on my…on my mind,” he swallows.

Alec imagines a wedding then.

He’s marrying Magnus in this imaginary wedding because there’s no one else for him.

He’s not sure about the location—they’d never reached the point in their relationship where they’d discuss potential locations.

So much, he doesn’t and will never know.

Even his imagination can’t comprehend a complete image.

“Well, twenty years from now, if you ever want to marry a shadowhunter and you can, please send me a thank you card for making that happen,” Alec jokes, then bites his lips instantly realising how much the even the idea hurt.

He really is an idiot, huh?

Magnus’s eyes turn sad before he speaks, “there’s never going to be another shadowhunter for me, Alec.”

And in another world, Alec might take that as proof that Alec is special. But Alec doesn’t feel that here so he speaks the first, unfiltered, idiotic thought he had. “One mistake was enough, I get it.”

“Alec, no,” Magnus’s voice is low and sad as he says the words.

Before they can dwell more on the words, Jace calls for Alec and he takes the opportunity to leave the conversation. “I’ll be back.”