#Short answer: I don't like it but also it's complicated

[throwaway-yandere]

FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you. 

The sixth. 

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.  

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect. 

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out.  As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible. 

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur. 

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this? 

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it. 

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor. 

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often. 

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone. 

But that’s not the issue right now. 

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.” 

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter. 

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words. 

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara." 

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince. 

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him. 

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor. 

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts. 

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere alhaitham #yandere wanderer #yandere kazuha #yandere scaramouche #yandere kaveh #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere male lead #soft yandere #tw yandere #scaramouche #genshin imagines #alhaitham #kaveh #kaedehara kazuha #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #yandere alhaitham x reader #yancore #tag: flawless

[auteurdelabre]

SO MUCH TO LOSE - CHAPTER 9 - dark!Joel x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Words: 7.4k

Chapter Tags:  sexual tension, mentions of suggested abuse, girl-bonding, Joel being Joel, reader being oblivious.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

A/N: Y’ALL really came through with the comments! It made me stay up far too late typin’ away. But I’m glad to deliver this to my sweet audience and I hope you continue to bless me with your thoughts, reblogs and funny tags. Also lemme know if you have money and wanna give me some because your girl is BROKE y'all. BROKE.

Wednesday - my bb, my light, my sweet please never stop commenting on A03 because I read those like others read stories. I laugh, I cry, I emote. Never stop.

Also, two people should NEVER ride a horse when one’s in a saddle. It’s horrible for the horse! But this is fiction so y’all gotta forgive me for it, all right?

Lastly - Chapter 10 is.... gonna be memorable. That's all I'm sayin'.

SO MUCH TO LOSE: CHAPTER 9

You toss in bed a short while later, your mind going a mile a minute. You can't get the memory of Joel's furious face out of your mind. You can’t get Ellie’s sad eyes and her tensed shoulders to leave you. You can’t stop imagining what happened the second you left their home.

Part of you wanted to run right back to that house on Rancher Street and to beg Joel’s forgiveness for intruding. It was never your information to gather, not your place to pry. It was information never given willingly and for that you understand his fury. You understand it better than most.

But the other part of you, perhaps the part that had brought you to tears as you left had been the sight of Ellie's horror at your question. Of would Joel hurt her? Because in Ellie’s eyes you saw her own lingering question reflected. 

Who hurt you? 

It's too complicated to get into, too personal and that's why you think you feel this overwhelming sense of guilt. Because if you'd come home to the space you shared with someone else and heard them divulging your biggest secrets, your deepest wounds, you can't say you would have acted any different.

In fact, you might have been worse.

You turn your head, noting that it's only now starting to grow dark. You hadn't even bothered with dinner. Just pulled on your sleeping clothes and robe and thrown yourself into bed. You wanted to forget the hours before, wanted sleep to claim you and help you erase the day.

But you can’t. You just lay there twisted in your sheets, feeling like a stranger in your own body. You consider trying a warm shower when you hear a sudden thudding on your front door. This isn't Ellie or Jennifer. This is someone else and you have a pretty good idea who. 

You think that you should just stay in bed, try to ignore the insistent pounding. But you need to pay for your mistake. This is your penance. You move down the stairs and to the front door opening it slowly. 

Joel is standing on your porch, his broad frame looming over your door. His hands are on either side of the frame, braced as if he has to physically hold himself back.

When you pull the door open he juts his chin forward aggressively. He hasn't even bothered putting a jacket on, despite the weather. He's wearing just his green flannel and a scowl that makes you take a physical step back. 

"Joel-"

"You think I'd hurt Ellie?" Joel says, teeth clenched. "Hurt my own fuckin' kid?"

You glance quickly over his shoulder noting that the street is deserted. Your street is one of the newer ones, less populated. It makes you nervous to see him looking so furious with no witnesses. But you answer him anyway.   

"I don't know you at all," you tell him with a wince. "For all I knew you could have and I felt responsible."

His jaw is clenched tightly, ticking as he glares at you. You can see the fury building there in his frame and it makes you tremble. But you swallow, raising your spine and fixing him with what you hope is confidence.

"You yanked me around on patrols before," you remind him, swallowing your fear the best you can. "You're known for being ruthless with raiders. Most everyone is terrified of you. Is it really that much of a stretch?"

For the first time this evening you think that what you're saying registers with Joel because he blinks and some of that inky black in his gaze grows a soft brown.

"I've never hit you. Never come close." His voice is soft, almost admonished. 

"No," you concede, "but you haven't exactly been gentle either." 

Joel takes in the way you're cowering, the way you flinch when he shifts. He sobers, lowering his hands from your doorframe, pushing himself back from you. 

"I'd never hurt a kid," he murmurs. “I’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

He takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. You wonder if he sees the blotchy pink of your tear-stained face or the dark circles under your eyes from barely sleeping this week.  

Joel's eyes narrow and without stepping closer to you it feels like he gets nearer when he speaks low and even. 

"Your dad hurt you or somethin'?"

You're momentarily thrown by this question from Joel. He's never really asked you anything this personal before. You toy with the idea of closing the door on his face because he doesn’t deserve to know you this way. But you think of how vulnerable he must feel with you having all this information about his past, about his Sarah, and you answer.

"No," you tell him honestly. “My dad was amazing.”

"Your mom then?"

"No."

You cross your arms over your chest, indicating that the conversation is now at an end. You've shared as much as you are willing to at this point in time. 

Joel looks equally stoic despite the nature of his questioning. His eyes drift over your body for the first time since he arrived at your doorstep, fixing on your sleep clothes and open robe before shooting back to your gaze. You pull your robe around your body, shivering at the cold draft coming in from the outside. Joel clears his throat. 

"Ellie never should have told you all that about me," he says. "Wasn't her information to share." 

"It was my fault. I never should have pressed her for details," you admit, talking to his shoulder. "It wasn't my place." 

Joel exhales through his nose by way of reply. The two of you stand in quiet thought before you feel compelled to ask.

"Did Ellie get in a lot of trouble?"

When he doesn't answer you finally move your eyes from his shoulder to his face, surprised to see he's staring at you. He's not going to answer you, you realize. You barely know him and it's between him and his daughter. 

You worry that you've messed everything up with Ellie. You feel like it's your fault that the fight happened at all. You think of how pleasant the afternoon had been with flower making and hair brushing. You hate to think of that going away. You swallow, gathering your nerves.  

"Am I still allowed to teach her to bake?"

After a moment Joel sucks his teeth and nods shallowly.

You shift where you stand, one hand still on the doorknob. It's warm under your palm. If Joel was anyone else you'd invite him in for a hot drink given the weather. But as it's him you simply stand awkwardly across from him. 

Joel peers into your face, gaze darting from each of your eyes to the next and back again. There's something about his stare that feels warm and heavy, something endless. 

"Get some sleep."

He says it softly, a husky command with none of its usual bite. Then he's gone, giving you one last look before he's taking off down the stairs of your porch. You watch his tall frame head down your street, scissoring through the night air until he's nothing but mist. 

And strangely the second you close the door you feel your feet taking you to your bed. You hear his voice quietly rumbling in your mind as you crawl under the covers.

Get some sleep. 

Permission. A command. A hushed order that gives you the freedom to just sink into the warmth of your bed, to close your eyes and feel your breath even out. 

And in seconds you're fast asleep. 

///

Jennifer greets you when you open your door to leave for patrols the next day, crowding your doorframe.

"I thought we could walk to patrols together."

"Okay." You pull your jacket around you, bracing yourself. 

You've known popular girls like Jennifer. The kind that roll their eyes and call you sensitive if you don't like how they treat you. You assume that this is what awaits you now.

"I'm so sorry for how I acted at the Bison."

You can’t say you were expecting that.

"I was trying to impress Joel," she continues. “Make it seem like we were all in on the joke together.”

When you see her standing there with her gloved hands clasped, looking apologetic you feel your animosity dropping from you like an unnecessary jacket.

"And I just... I never should have put you on the spot,” she continues. “I was just trying to go along with things, but that's not how friends act. My mama raised me better than that."

You know that what she's saying is important, but all you can focus on is that she just confirmed you two are friends.  You have a real friend.

"S'okay," you offer quietly. 

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get my cookies?"

"Yep, they were good."

You don't make it a habit to lie to friends but she looks so proud of herself that you can't help it. She beams, clearly proud of herself. She doesn’t need to know that they’re at the bottom of your waste bin. 

"I'm so glad you liked them."

You want to say something kind to Jennifer, something that lets her know that you’ve forgiven her. Maybe its guilt from the fact that the cookies were barely touched. Whatever it is you scan her body, landing on her beautifully tailored jacket.

“I like your jacket,” you tell her, observing the dark green and black of the pattern and hood. “It’s really pretty.”

“Thanks, I made it myself,” she tells you proudly.  “Barely any time at all.”

“Tell me you didn’t just make it just for this patrol,” you say fixing her with a look. Jennifer goes pink and starts giggling. “Jennifer!”

"Oh hush,” she says elbowing your side gently.

You can’t help but laugh at your friend as the two of you head off to patrols, chatting pleasantly as you make your way down the path to town. Jennifer is animated as always, her voice lilting and cheerful.

“Luke was really disappointed when you took off," she mentions with a sly smile and side eye. "I just know he's excited about today."

You flush, eyes on the ground, not saying anything. The truth is you're very excited to see Luke today. You want to learn more about him, see his likes and dislikes. 

"Joel left soon after you did," Jennifer tells you with a frown after a few moments. "But I mean he came and had a drink with us so that has to count for something."

"Totally." 

You've reached the fence and see three of the horses lined up, tied and waiting. Luke is patting Glimmer but he waves to you both as you approach. Your stomach flips pleasantly at the sight of his light hair falling into his eyes.

Chestnut whinnies gently as you approach, his long neck arching towards you. You smile as he ambles over to greet you the best he can.

"Hi boy," you whisper, gently patting down his long muzzle. "You having a good day? Huh?"

"Hiya Glimmer," Jennifer coos. You think that this must be her usual ride on her patrols. 

"Morning Luke," you offer, trying to appear nonchalant. 

"Mornin'."  Luke’s smile is shy but earnest. "We missed ya this week."

"Yeah?"

He nods and you feel your face grow hot because you are sure Jennifer is staring at you both with a smirk. "Yeah, missed shootin’ with ya."

You busy yourself with running your hand over chestnuts flank, all the while trying not to read into things. Maybe Luke just likes having a fellow peer there?  

Or maybe he likes me.

You have to admit to yourself that you have a crush even if crushes feel so adolescent in your mind after everything that happened to the world. But there’s something that makes you want to laugh at the way some things never change. Humans will continue to lust, even after the earth is swallowed by disease.

"Looks like a simple enough job," Jennifer observes looking at the few pieces of lumber strapped to the horses. Enough that it's good for building but not too heavy for them to carry. You go to reply when you hear a booming voice sounding out behind you. 

"S'a fucking joke. Gettin' them all the way over here just to be one short."

Joel is arguing with Hank, one of the crew. Hank is an older with an under bite and bushy eyebrows. He fixes Joel with a formidable stare. He’s one of the few in Jackson City not intimidated by the elder Miller.  

"I don't know what to tell ya Joel," Hank shrugs. "It's all we got."

"What's going on?" Jennifer asks, swanning over to the men. She stands close to Joel, her shoulder brushing against his. You notice as his dark eyes sweep over her face as he notices her.

"Only three horses available today," Hank explains to her. "Others were taken out."

"Why?"

"Heard about an intercepted shipment of medicine nearby. Sent a bunch of folks after it. Anyway, one of you'll have to double up."

Joel makes a huffing noise before shouldering past Hank and hauling himself up onto Midnight. He's made it very clear he won't be riding with anyone. That leaves you, Jennifer and Luke. In habit you go to grab Chestnut’s bridle. Jennifer is determined not to go down without a fight. 

"I'm small," Jennifer says in a breathy voice you don't really recognize as hers. "I'll double."

She looks directly at Joel who is going to great lengths to look anywhere else. If it weren’t so awkward you might have laughed, but instead you try to hide your smile behind your glove.

Oblivious to the dynamic, Luke pats the side of his horse. 

"You can ride on the back of mine if you want Jenny," Luke offers with a friendly tip of his head.

Your smile immediately dies. Why didn’t you volunteer? Jennifer pauses, waiting for Joel to inject.

Get the fucking hint, Joel. 

He doesn’t.  He just shifts the two guns he’s carrying on his back, clearing his throat.

You see how crestfallen Jennifer looks, but it’s for only a moment before she shines a bright smile Luke's way as she hauls herself up behind him, lacing her hands around his middle.

"Thanks, Luke." 

With that settled you yourself mount Chestnut, stroking his mane gently. Hank comes over to hand you a backpack. It’s heavy and you make a soft huffing noise when you hoist it onto your shoulders.

“Nails and hammers,” Hank explains. “You got it?”

“Yep,” you nod, trying to look in command of yourself with Luke’s eyes on you. “No problem.”

You feel the coarse hair of Chestnut under your gloved fingertips and squeeze your thighs to prompt him forward.  You follow after Joel in habit with Glimmer carrying Luke and Jennifer close behind. The ride to Teton is quiet, but not in a tense way, more distracted.

The backpack as it stands is a problem though because you’re wincing with every jostling step Chestnut takes. The bag is impossibly heavy and it digs into your shoulders like a too-tight bra.

You hear Luke and Jennifer quietly talking with one another on Glimmer. There are quiet giggles and you hear Luke chuckle softly. You feel irritated at Joel not taking Jennifer on his horse with him. Of course he wouldn't - Joel gets his way every time. So you've lost your chance to bond with Luke. 

You could be on the back of Glimmer with him. Your arms could be around Luke's waist right now, your thighs bracketing his. You could be feeling the warmth of his body seeping into your front. 

But you're not. 

You're stuck in the middle listening to Luke's gentle chuckle behind you and watching Joel's broad frame in front of you. As you stare at Joel with the guns on his back your mind drifts to last night. 

Have you and Joel moved past your mutual disdain for one another? You’re not quite sure.  Right now you’re irritated with him, but there’s less bite to it today. You think maybe you’re both at a polite acceptance of one another. Joel looks back every now and again, his eyes sailing to you and the group behind you. You roll your shoulders, gritting your teeth when the bag digs into the flesh there.

“’Bout halfway there,” he tells the group even though you’re well aware.

Joel is a natural leader checking in on his troops. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the forces before all of this. You know that he worked in construction and that he must have been around horses considering he’s such a capable rider. But that’s it.

Perhaps he and Sarah rode horses together. This thought comes to you despite knowing nothing about the girl. Nevertheless you wonder what she looked like. Was she dour and broad like Joel? You imagine her as bubbly and quick with his dark hair.

You watch as Joel slows Midnight and Chestnut quickly overtakes him, their hooves trotting along the earth until the two of you ride side by side. You’re confused and you feel Joel’s eyes on your profile and after a moment you turn to see him staring at the bag and then back to your face.

“Gimme the bag,” he orders gently.

“I’m fine,” you lie. You wonder if he can see the strain in your neck as you say this. He rolls his eyes, huffing out his nostrils.

“You need to be carrying a weapon,” Joel informs you. “Won’t do much damage to a Raider with a heavy backpack.”

He’s right. He’s not doing it to be nice; he’s doing it to be efficient. How Joel of him.

You want to fight him on it but the thought of having the heavy thing off your shoulders is too appealing. You relent as the horses come to stop beside one another. You tug off your bag, handing it to Joel who straps one of the guns to the side of it and slings it over his muscled shoulders. The bag doesn’t even look oversized on him and he carries it with no strain whatsoever.

He hands you off the large shotgun and you throw it over your shoulder, thankful for the padding in the leather sling. Without another word Joel makes a clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth and he and Midnight quickly head up the group once more. 

When you get to Teton Village and the four of you do the usual perimeter check you’re feeling bolder and a little bit restless. You feel like you want to impress Luke but can’t think of any meaningful way to do so. He’ll be upstairs hammering and nailing while you stand watch at the window like a senior citizen waiting for the postman. It’s almost embarrassing that you were brought along at all.

When you approach the outpost though you have an idea on how to appear more capable. You urge Chestnut on ahead of Joel and tie the sweet creature quickly to the tree before jogging up the large old library steps.

“I’ve got the lock,” you call over your shoulder casually. Joel is already off his horse and striding towards you with several pieces of lumber slung over his shoulder; Luke is helping Jennifer off of Glimmer. You turn back, fiddling with the code confidently.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck.”

You try it again, the same one you were taught and then you tug. It’s still not working.

“C’mon,” you whisper angrily to yourself, “c’mon you piece of shit.”

Again the silver tabs are moved to the correct code and again you jerk it only to find it sticking fast. Is it the encroaching cool weather? Your confidence is hanging by a thread when a large ungloved hand comes out of nowhere, coming to gently bat your fingers away.

“Code changed last week,” Joel says lowly behind you.

You feel the warmth of his taller body behind you, his words stirring the hair at the back of your head. You say nothing as you watch his fingers fiddle with the new numbers, sliding them into place. You want to memorize them for next time. His arm rests beside your shoulder as he works his thick thumbs slide the silver tabs. Finally it unlocks and Joel removes the lock, placing it in his pocket.

“Sorry you couldn’t impress your little boyfriend.”

You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation despite the fact that only he and you could hear the murmured remark. He moves past you, Luke and Jennifer carry the remaining lumber. The four of you make your way into the house and wordlessly Joel heads upstairs to begin.

“That was so sweet of Joel to take the bag,” Jennifer whispers to you with hearts in her eyes. “Chivalrous.”

You don’t reply. Why shatter her illusion of who she thinks Joel is? Maybe with her affection and softness he could become that. Maybe with the right woman Joel Miller is chivalrous and romantic.

Maybe it’s just with you that he’s an antagonistic asshole.

The three of them pad up the stairs with the supplies as you stand by the door. You know you're not much use upstairs so you busy yourself writing in the log notes about the repairs. You hear the banging and the conversations upstairs as you move from the small room towards the window of the fireplace room; your eyes surveying the grey of old snow.

You yawn after a short while, bored. There’s nothing out there. There never is in town. That’s why you like Teton village so much. It’s quiet and sleepy and there’s no real danger. Perhaps it’s the large buildings or the lack of footprints. Whatever it is, you find yourself relaxing.

Joel and Jennifer jog down the stairs with Joel not passing you a glance. Jennifer gives you a thumbs up and mouths “getting more wood”. You hear the sound of Luke hammering upstairs and take a moment to consider your next moves.

This may be your only chance.

You scurry up the steps towards the far room, following the sound of Luke’s hammering. You stop when you see him, mid hammer. His back muscles ripple under his t-shirt, a line of sweat down the middle. It’s warm in this room, and judging by the repairs done they have been working quickly and efficiently.

“Hey,” you offer as you approach him, heartened when he turns and flashes you a friendly smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt. You turn away at the sliver of taut abdomen that shows itself when he does. Your whole body is going tingly.

“Hey, you come to help us?”

“Oh I would just slow you down,” you say with a shy laugh, your eyes landing anywhere but his handsome face. “Every time I try to hammer the nail goes crooked.”

“You just haven’t been taught correctly then,” Luke ventures, “come here and I’ll give you a lesson.”

You try to keep yourself from jogging over, attempting to appear casual. He holds his hammer out to you as you approach.

"Here.”

You take it from him, facing the sill of the window that he’s been working on. You nearly jolt when you feel his hands land on your shoulders. He notices your flinch, his hands flying off of you at the first contact.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry just distracted,” you insist, feeling your cheeks heat. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Luke’s hands go to your wrists now, placing the nail in your left fingers and positioning it on the sill.

“You just need to start with it straight. Lotta people angle it without thinking and…”

You know that Luke’s talking more but you’re having trouble focusing because you feel him pressing up behind you, his hand sliding over yours and helping you to hold the nail in place.

“A lot of people make the mistake of hitting the nail shallowly a bunch of times instead of once or twice with harsh blows,” he explains. You feel a warmth go through your body as Luke's curls over yours. He’s so tall, so gentle, so earnest.  You feel his voice rumbling through his chest into your back.

He places the hammer in your right hand before he covers your hand with his effectively holding each of your hands like you're a puppet. He positions the nail in the wood once more, bringing your hand and the hammer back. You’re completely boneless, letting yourself melt into his arms.

"So if you hold it-"

Whatever thought Luke had dies at the sound of Joel's rasping voice behind you. 

"What're you doin'?"

You and Luke glance over your shoulders to see Joel scowling. He's got a stack of the remaining lumber over his shoulder. Jennifer is beside him, looking between Luke and Joel in confusion, a box of nails in her grip. 

Luke still has his arms around yours, guiding you. Both sets of arms are raised midway. It looks like you’re in some strange dance routine involving hammers and nails. Joel drops the lumber to the floor with a thud, his gaze icily on Luke.

"I was just teaching her how to put up the frame," Luke explains with a soft tone. You recognize that he's a gentle man, not one for confrontation. Joel intimidates him; he likely has since he met him. For whatever reason Joel is especially cold to Luke.

"This ain't a teachin' moment," Joel all but growls, his larger frame barreling towards the two of you. "We're here to do a job and get it done fast so we don’t draw attention."

You feel Luke shrinking back, arms lowering, but his frame still rests behind you as if he's worried about leaving you entirely. 

"I wanted to learn how to do the repairs," you explain trying to be diplomatic. 

"S'not why you were brought," Joel bites back.

He shocks you when he reaches out to take your wrist, tugging you away from Luke. You stagger towards Joel, eyes wide almost barreling into his chest. He holds you tightly, looking down into your face.

"You're here to keep watch while we do this. That’s your job."

His voice is harsh but his eyes are gentle. It's a confusing dichotomy that has you careening from one emotion to the next. You settle on anger when you feel Jennifer and Luke watching you. Your cheeks burn with humiliation at being talked to like this in front of them and you shoot a glare at Joel before you wrench your wrist his grip.

“Let’s break for lunch,” Jennifer suggests, noting the tension.

“Good idea,” Luke says with a smile.

Everyone waits for Joel’s eventual nod before the four of you head downstairs to the log room.

There are thankfully enough chairs because you can’t imagine the awkwardness of standing around eating after everything that happened. Right now you want to sink into your chair and disappear for a few hours.

What the fuck is Joel’s problem?

Jennifer thankfully starts chatting to fill the silence and pulls out the meals from her bag. Two sandwiches each, a thermos of coffee and what appears to be fresh brownies along with the usual water and apples.

Joel goes off for a moment, muttering about feeding the horses. The three of you take a seat around the table, focused on the sweet-smelling brownies.

“Those look so good,” Luke says when Jennifer pulls them out. “I love baked goods.”

“You should try her stuff,” Jennifer says motioning to you with a wink. “Everyone in town says how good her baking is.”

You could kiss Jennifer for the way she’s trying to make you look good in front of Luke. You make a mental note to do the same for her and Joel. Jennifer has many good redeeming qualities and Joel just simply doesn’t see them.

“S’not that good,” you say with a shy little giggle as you bite into your sandwich.

“It is so!” Jennifer insists, unwrapping her own.  

“Guess I’ll have to see for myself,” Luke says grinning and taking a sip of his coffee. You don’t say anything but you shift slightly when Joel comes to take the empty seat next to you. He reaches across you to grab one of the sandwiches, peeling back the waxy cloth that holds it.

The room goes quiet again, a side effect of Joel-Miller-iti; because whenever he enters a room it goes deadly quiet. You wonder if he was like this before – was he always so gruff? So grumpy? How could Tommy be so opposite to him?

You wish it was Tommy with the rest of you today. Tommy with his easy laugh and warm countenance. You expect the rest of lunch to go in silence when all of a sudden it’s Joel who breaks it.

"You're good at window repair, Jenny. You must’ve done a lot.”

Jennifer flushes prettily and thanks him in a voice that feels a lot more breathy than necessary.

For some reason this innocuous comment from Joel has your fingers curling into the wood table. Your leg starts to twitch as you rock your leg up and down restlessly on the ball of your foot.

You spent weeks trying to earn Joel’s praise as a patrol partner. You were dutiful and listened and tried your best and he gave you nothing back unless his cock was in your mouth. Jennifer has been working for thirty minutes and he gives her his praise so freely?

If he wasn't sitting beside you, you would be fixing him with your most glowering stare. You wish you weren’t so shy, so quiet. You’d give him a piece of your mind next week on patrols if you had the guts.

“I grew up doing repairs on our house with my brothers,” Jennifer answers and you know she’s beside herself with all this attention from Joel. He’s got his eyes fixed on her and his normally scowling face is brighter, his mouth in a polite smile.

“You had good teachers.”

“I taught them, actually,” she smiles brightly.

“Impressive.”

You continue to bop your leg, the feeling distracting you from your frustration. You hasten a glance at Luke who hasn’t so much as glanced up from his lunch since the meal started. He’s shy like you, quiet and introspective especially when Joel is around. You think that’s why you enjoy his company so much. You feel like you want him to feel included.

“You did construction too, right Luke?”

“Yep,” he nods, swallowing before taking one of the brownies and breaking it apart in his hands. “Cabinetry especially.

“Cool,” you offer awkwardly. You wish you knew more about the topic but your interest and acumen in that field is limited. Your knee continues to bop anxiously as you try to think of ways to get the conversation to continue.

“I was just learning flooring and trim carpentry when the outbreak started,” he continues as you nod along as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Oh, wow.”

Jennifer keeps sneaking looks across the table at Joel and if your hunch is correct he’s probably doing the same to her. Despite your previous annoyance with him the thought warms you, that perhaps there is a mutual attraction for your friend and Joel. You wonder if you should warn her about Joel’s temper but decide that Joel may not show that side of himself to her if he can help it.

After what you’ve learned about Joel and Sarah, there is a softness inside you that maybe thinks Jennifer could be good for Joel. You resolve to do whatever you can to make it work for them. Joel isn’t your friend, but Jennifer is. And if she wants Joel you’ll do all you can to make it happen.

You almost yelp when Joel's hand grips your knee, holding your restless leg in place. He leans towards you, voice dropping a register and sliding into a soft rasp. 

"Stop shakin' your damn leg. You’re knockin’ over the coffees."

You’re doing no such thing, but part of you thinks he misses ordering you around. He must like the sense of control it gives him. He misses being a big shot and you’re the closest thing he has to a professional underling. All your kind sentiments about him go flying out the window. You were naïve to think there could be a possible friendship there. Hell, not even a friendship – just a respectful mutual tolerance.

You feel an embarrassed flush cross your features, pulling back from Joel’s touch. His fingers slowly unlatch from your knee and his palm lingers a moment before being removed entirely. 

“You do a lot of repairs before all this?” Jennifer asks Joel. You surprise yourself by listening, intrigued for more information on pre-outbreak Joel.

“Yep.”

He takes a long swig of his coffee before wiping at his mouth and speaking before Jennifer has the chance to ask more follow up personal questions.

“Alright, let’s finish it up. I’ll see you two up there.”

He doesn’t spare anyone a glance before he’s on his feet, heading up the stairs. Luke joins him moments later, leaving you and Jennifer sitting across from one another.

When she’s certain the men are upstairs she looks beside herself with delight and leans forward conspiratorially.

“Do you think Joel was flirting?” she whispers, her light eyes dancing. “I mean, Luke is way better at repairs but he didn’t say anything nice to him.”

“Definitely,” you reason, looking thoughtful. “He doesn’t really talk much normally, so I think that’s a good sign.”

“I’m gonna ride back with him,” Jennifer says hiding a giggle behind her hand.

“Go for it,” you say, unable to stop from smiling. You can’t help but enjoy her excitement.

“I wonder what he kisses like,” she muses, her eyes dreamy. You shrug your shoulders and she fixes you with that same sisterly look. “When’s the last time you had a really good make out?”

“Uh…” you trail off, your cheeks heating. “We can talk about it later. He’ll be pissed off if you don’t get up there soon. Don’t wanna blow your chances now.”

Jennifer gives you a grateful squeeze on the shoulder as she passes, calling up to Joel and Luke that she’s just grabbing some extra nails. You don’t hear their reply because you’ve dragged yourself to the window, your eyes scanning.

You hear them nailing upstairs, the muffled sound of their talking. As always you're on the edge, forever on the outside. You chew at the inside of your cheek in irritation, your eyes scanning the outside.

It's not long after that the three come back downstairs dressed for travel. Jennifer is pulling on her gloves and chatting with Luke about the rumors of heavy snow and Joel is carrying his bag with the tools over one shoulder. He fixes you with an expectant stare, brows raised.

"See anythin’?"

"Nope. Would've said something if I did." 

Joel stares at you, unblinking and you're confused when you see a small curl of his lip in amusement. 

"S'go." 

The four of you trudge towards the waiting horses. Chestnut looks excited to see you and you grin as you approach. You press your forehead to his cheek, stroking down his flank as the rest of the group begins to pick a horse.

"I can ride with someone again," Jennifer offers and you watch with a touch of amusement as she subtly steps towards Joel who has just climbed atop Midnight. 

"Nah, let's switch it up," Joel says gruffly. "That way s’fair for everyone."

Luke looks your way and you hold in a nervous grin. He’s going to make the same offer to you that he did to Jennifer because he’s a gentleman that way.

The thought has your stomach fluttering excitedly. You think of how your arms will wrap around his middle, how you’ll find an excuse to press your cheek to his shoulder blade. How your thighs will-

"Get on."

Your brows knit together in confusion as you gaze up to your right to see Joel on his horse, holding out a gloved hand in front of your face. His curls fall into his forehead as he tilts towards you, mouth in a firm line.

What the fuck is he doing? Why is he trying to fuck this up for you?

“S’go,” Joel tells you, shaking an impatient outstretched hand from atop of his horse. He looks like he’s irritated out of his mind as you make your decision.

"Oh, uh," you glance at the disappointment in Luke's face before turning back to Joel, trying to hide your irritation. 

It makes sense after all; Luke already had to ride with Jennifer. But a part of you had been hoping to spend a bit of time with him on the horse. It's been a long while since a man intrigued you like Luke.

"We don't have all day," Joel snipes at your hesitation. "Let's go."

Jennifer strides forward, taking Chestnut’s bridle from you. You hand it over before looking back up at Joel who waits with one hand on his saddle horn, the other still at your eye level.

You clench your jaw and take his hand, hooking your foot into the footing of Midnight’s saddle and feeling the muscle of Joel’s arm as you grip his bicep and he pulls you astride the horses back behind him. 

He shifts, giving you room to slide behind the saddle. You do so, holding in  a sigh as you position yourself atop the strong animal. You feel Midnight's ribs under your legs, wider than Chestnut's. He's a pitch black mare with a coat that currently glistens. He's always been a rather imposing horse, hesitant around new people.  Riding him is like being in a room alone with Joel – intimidating.

"Hold on," Joel instructs before clicking his tongue, encouraging Midnight to start walking. The horse jerks to a start, causing you to dig your legs into Midnight’s side. You’re lucky the horse doesn’t kick you off for it.

You look over your shoulder to see Jennifer on Chestnut a few paces back. You give her a look that shows how displeased you are to be with Joel, replete with an eye roll. She returns it with a weak smile before her focus is back on the trail. Luke is looking off into the surrounding area, his eyes scanning for threats as he sits straight-backed on Glimmer.

You turn back to face ahead of you, displeased.

At first you barely touch Joel, hands resting on your thighs as the four of you bob along the trail. No one is talking now. The air is filled with an unexpected tension that you can’t for the life of you understand.

Your front is pressed against Joel's back, squeezing gently to make sure you don't slide off.  Midnight makes a jostling step off the path before righting himself. It sends you slipping back, your thighs digging into the horse’s side and your hands going to grab Joel lightly by his jacket.

"Unless you wanna fall off I suggest you hold tighter n'that." Joel bites off. 

You know he’s correct. Sitting this awkwardly is only a burden on Midnight. Your arms snake around Joel’s waist and hold there below his sternum. His chest is broad, his arms muscled, his thighs strong. Everything about him is masculine and tough. All but the soft look of his dark brown curls threaded with grey which curl under his ears just slightly.

Despite everything you've experienced with Joel, actually physically touching him is surreal. You know the feel of his cock in your palm and on your tongue, the taste of his come. But now you can explore the rest of his body first with your eyes and then your hands. 

Up this close to Joel you see the freckles on his golden skin and the way he holds himself stiffly straight in front of you. He’s so broad, his entire disposition that of protector. You can understand why Ellie feels safe with him.  

You marvel at the smooth sensation of his jacket under your fingertips, the warmth of his body. This close to Joel you inhale the scent of leather and homemade lavender soap from Hannah's. You could almost laugh that you both use the same scent mostly because Joel Miller smelling like flowers is an amusing thought.

You pass through a different path on your way back as you always do and are irritated with the sight of the overturned trees. The roots are ugly, twisted things that poke out from the light dusting of snow.

“Shit,” Joel mutters to himself.

Midnight rears back sharply and in a panic your arms wrap more tightly around Joel’s waist, suddenly anxious. You're surprised when Joel's left hand goes to cover your grip knotted against his middle, holding you in place.

Joel grunts out a grumbled whoa boy before tugging Midnight’s reigns with his right hand to get him to obey. His hand is big, warming you despite the gloves you both wear.

"Careful," Joel calls over his shoulder to Jennifer and Luke. "Some big roots here." 

The two of them call out that they've heard him. You twist to look over your shoulder and watch them navigate Chestnut and Glimmer over the uprooted tree. Luckily it doesn’t take long before the four of you are back on the path heading home with no more obstacles in the foreseeable future.

You glance behind you to see Jennifer looking miserable on Glimmer. She looks so disappointed and you want to slap Joel upside the head for missing how obviously into him she is. You think of earlier, when Joel observed her skills and an idea comes to you.

“Hey Jennifer?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like your jacket,” you fumble for a way to make this sound natural.

Jennifer shoots you a confused look, curious as to where you’re going with this. “Uh, thanks.”

“Did you get it from town?”

“I made it,” she tells you, the silent you already know that, reflected in her gaze.

“Wow, you’re so gifted. You made those amazing curtains in your place too, right?”

“I did.”

“You’re so good at making stuff,” you gush. “Especially clothes. You make men's clothes too, right Jennifer? Like jackets?"

"Uh yeah," she says slowly before her confusion fades, realizing what you're getting at. She smiles cheekily at you. "Yeah, I can make jackets, jeans, t-shirts, all that stuff." 

“You’re so talented at it,” you gush. Luke is looking over your way and you feel the need to really drive it home. “I mean, with the holidays coming up I might just want to get a dress from you.”

You have never worn a dress in your life. Not unless your mother forced you into them as a child. But you need to sell this idea that Jennifer is a domestic goddess. You’ll leave out the part about her baking.

“I could make us matching ones,” she says with a wink. You hold in a giggle at the thought.

“I’d like to see that,” Luke offers shyly from behind Jennifer who shoots a delighted look in your direction complete with dramatically mouthed ‘he likes you!’. You flush at the attention, your lips pursing into a pleased grin.

You feel Joel's trunk stiffen in your arms and his hand drops from over yours. He replaces it on the reigns. 

"Keep it down," Joel hisses over his shoulder at you and the others. "Unless you were hopin’ to guide  Raiders our way?"

The two of them go quiet and you cringe internally. You don't know why but you suppose it's because Joel is your patrol partner. A reflection on you in some ways and he's coming off like a major asshole right now. Your arms loosen around his middle finding that the horse is now on smoother terrain.

You glance over at Jennifer about to give her a sympathetic look but she shoots you an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and mouths the words "still sexy" with a head tilt at Joel. You barely suppress a surprised giggle, irritating Joel further. 

"What's so fuckin’ funny?"

"Nothing." 

------------------------------------

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@questionablemay

@kateg88

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #dad joel miller #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal #fanfiction #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #joel x reader #joel fanfic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tension #so much to lose #auteurdelabre

[anantaru]

"you shouldn’t love someone like me."

there was an unclouded apprehension in diluc’s dispiriting tone, though really, was there?

beyond the shadow of a doubt, there always was and will be, something telling him that he wasn't right for you.

yet your expression softens slightly as you thought over it in your deepened pondering, elbows turned inwards, pulse lowered and your muscles slowly tensing up.

besides that, the short lived silence wasn’t one of a defeating nor pressuring kind, nor was it causing you to lose enthusiasm and hope; yes, it was disheartening, very much so, but you were aware of the dredged reasoning behind diluc’s particular choice of words.

in due course, you sigh into your chest, composing yourself, profoundly yet enough to keep your serenity, again and again reminding yourself of the gut-wrenching words he had uttered just moments ago, "and why is that?"

the quality of life varies enormously from one place to another, yet regardless of where you are, it doesn’t matter to you at all— because diluc was there with you, so you couldn't even fathom nor think about living a life without your boyfriend by your side.

"I—" mimicking the exact tone, diluc attempted to cash in on the inner confidence from earlier, which, in actuality was nothing but a fake from the very beginning.

don’t misunderstand him, he thinks you deserve way better than him, it's more than that if he looks into his heart, frankly— he was sure that, in his eyes, there really wasn’t any part of him reaching your level.

he frowns, "it's complicated." sure, you knew that, but right now it seemed as if he hadn't had an answer either. "i don't need anyone else diluc."

and when you catch him looking, you just know he's smart enough to know the effect he had on you, same goes the other way around. you take haste and move closer to him, making space so you can sit on his lap, but also be able to leisurely wrap your arms around his neck.

those seconds, pure intimacy invading the air around you, warming diluc's broken, confusing heart as you flawlessly lean in, kissing his lips.

"so don't ever doubt yourself, because you're perfect to me."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#diluc x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #diluc fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #diluc drabbles #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr fluff #genshin angst #diluc angst #genshin impact angst

[paper-mario-wiki]

hi, i'm not the person who asked you about the life update, but could you elaborate on how being a creator means to live in a world of ideas instead of the real world? i'm just really curious about your reasons for quitting, specially because i want to create things in the future (not necessarily streaming, but anyways), hope you have a good day!

i'll be talking mostly about streaming for the sake of this answer, but this is similarly applicable across a wide range of platforms:

the job of the streamer is, effectively, to be the life of the party every single day. your goal is to be the person that has something interesting to talk about, and is quick with a joke, and has nuanced understandings of certain things, without actually obtaining any sort of "expertise" in anything lest you alienate viewers. short of having a stated goal for a stream, the only goal of the streamer is to let people relax with a voice they enjoy, saying things they like hearing. you can become very strong in different aspects of streaming, like in the production, or as someone who focuses more on a skill they've honed like art or speedrunning, but the demographic of streamers which pulls, by far, the most significant viewership, is personality based streamers.

this becomes more complicated when, for example, you are very interactive with chat, or you stream with multiple people at once. now, to maintain this charismatic sway you have (the one that got you the job in the first place), you must be able to adapt to and bounce off of other people, as you are now no longer performing alone. naturally, there's a need to not only manage your own flow of consciousness, but also to be at least partially in sync with someone else's.

beyond these complications, you must also consider drawing in new viewership. when i was a streamer, i was quite successful, relatively speaking. pulling 300 viewers consistently is something a very slim amount of streamers can actually do, and even then i was still making under 50k a year, which is not bad, but also not good. in paying for my apartment, my insurance, my travel fare, and all the other stuff that living independently draws money out of you with, i was more often in the red than i was in the green. hence, the need to draw in new viewers, which cannot be done without something eye-catching.

think about this: there are, at any given time, TENS OF THOUSANDS of streamers live in your native language on twitch, and they are all FREE TO WATCH. the attention market is sparse because the streamer market is oversaturated. and considering all of THEM want new viewers too, everyone is constantly refining and improving their craft, which requires everyone to move creatively in tandem with each other lest they get left behind.

if you are a streamer making ass-dollars and ass-cents, it becomes easy to begin resenting people like jerma, solely because everything he touches seems to turn to gold. i personally found it easy to feel very disappointed in myself when peoples projects that seemed so simple would take off. it was a constant "why didn't i think of that!" situation, at least for me. and when you don't have the energy to keep that up, or the social stamina necessary to figure that all out while also being upbeat and happy in front of people near daily, it can become very draining.

what i mean specifically when i say the "world of ideas", is like. there would be times where i could schedule out my failures weeks in advance. i'd be so in my own head about the process, i could see the exact path i could see myself taking that would lead me directly to ruin. how playing games i actually enjoyed would steadily drop viewership, or how focusing on my studies would make people forget about me. and of course this is augmented by my anxiety, i know this is absolutely not the case for every streamer, but that overwhelming feeling of needing to find a new game to play, or a new gimmick to use, or a new ploy to get money that doesn't make you feel guilty even though your source of income is mostly queer and mostly poor young adults and your rent is coming up and you're $200 short but you also just had a fundraiser last month about a DIFFERENT emergency but you cant make it a bummer or else people wont want to tune in so you have to make it something fun like "you laugh you lose!" or "$1 art request streams!" while feeling nothing but anxiety while youre trying to sound like youre enjoying yourself even when youre asking 250 people to donate every 30 minutes or so and nobody seems to want to and chat is moving slowly and. and and.

well, it starts to eat away at you.

#anon

[lvlyghost]

I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH 😩❤️😍 the way you characterize ghost is so good I can't 😭❤️ I wanted to ask if you could maybe write something for me since your writing style is sooo good frfr

How about ghost and reader have an argument that was started by ghost and he goes a bit too far breaking the reader and making them cry and be just a shell of themselves how would he feel when he sees the readers state and how would he fix it with a happy end please

Broken Wings

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: After a night out, things seem to take a turn in your relationship with Ghost.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tw: angst, hurt/comfort, self doubt, jealousy, probably ooc!simon, curse words. lots of grammar mistakes, poorly edited you know the drill🐝

A/N: i loved this request sooo much, though i did have a lot of trouble when writing it since i wasn't feeling too inspired. also had two different stories but ended up deciding to post this one i might post the other one idk, hope you like this anon! I did try my best🫶🏻🤍🩷✨corrections are appreciated; remember english isn't my native language 🐸

Masterlist✨

"I like you." You said with big bright eyes.

"But no one can know about this. Just you and I. That's enough." He answered, hand tracing the side of your face.

You blink rapidly. You have always been daydreamer. It caused you tons of problems although you tried to do your best when you were out on missions. Ghost is walking ahead of you, boots sinking in the sand beneath your feet. The waves crashing on the shore is something you like listening to and seeing too but under different circumstances. Both of your gear clink with every step you take, it's the only sound as well as the sea that swallows the tense silence that falls between the two.

Things have been rather... strange since two days ago and you've tried to talk to him about it. It wasn't weird for Ghost to push you back every now and then, he was a complicated person and you couldn't be more different from one another.

You were the sun and he was the darkness that came at night or so he had said one night at the common room back at the compound. He was stoic, grumpy and hardly found himself enjoying somebody's company. You on the other hand, even though you wouldn't consider yourself the most outgoing person like Johnny, still you liked talking unlike him. You loved going out with the task force. And most importantly you loved when Ghost joined because you loved him, you loved having him around, despite his gruff responses or annoyed looks.

You jog though your legs shake and tiredness sets in your body.

"How much farther until we get there?" You ask, ignoring the fact that his frame goes rigid when you speak . He doesn't acknowledge you at first. All you hear is a small sigh leaving his lips. You kind of wish he wasn't wearing the damn sunglasses so you could see his eyes.

They always said a lot.

"Thirty minutes. Give or take." The answer is short and cold, breaking your heart a little more than before. Still, you decide to try again.

"Sir, is something bothering you?" Before he can stop it he scoffs, shaking his head. "What?" Brows furrowing on your features. "Simon..."

He stops all of the sudden, turning to face you with a tense stance.

"First of all don't bloody use my name out here. Secondly it's your own fault we've been walking for hours. So don't go asking if something's bothering me, Sergeant."

Taking a step back you open your mouth.

"My fault? I was doing my job!"

"Didn't know your job was to get your fucking head blown off!!" He seethes. "Fucking hell you can't be this reckless and expect me to clap at your poor acting on the field." Your heart begins to race, he had never said such things to you. Taking a small step back your grit your teeth, you hated that his words were making your eyes blurry. This was the Simon you never wanted to see. And yet there he was. "Now we lost the damn intel thanks to you." He spits. But something isn't adding up.

"It's not just that. You've been acting strange for a few days now, Ghost. Don't come and tell me it's just because I did what I was supposed to do!" He stiffs yet again. Jaw clenching so hard you fear he might break it. "Not missing the way you avoid me ever since..." you close your mouth shut. "The pub..." he shifts his weight from one foot to another. The waves are increasing and now reach your feet, dampening your boots. And then you remember him storming off the local pub before he even finished his own drink. Everyone had heard the hard slap to John's arm when he had tried to calm him down. God why didn't you pay more attention to that moment? Because you both had agreed to keep your distances? And going after him was out of discussion? Then the next day you'd barely seen him, just for a short moment during debriefs and that was it. The moment you had gotten up from your seat he was gone. And today you were supposed to go to a special op that had soon become a problem that eventually led to the two of you in the middle of a beach, it was a cloudy day and if it weren't for the heavy layers you wore you're certain you'd be shaking. Sometimes –and you were ashamed of it– you were oblivious to many things and it seemed that Ghost's anger toward you was one of them this time. "What happened?"

He inhales deeply.

"It's over. That's what happened."

Your heart sinks and you swallow hard. Your whole body loses color when he mutters those two words. Out of all the things, all the possibilities you thought he'd say to you, he decided to end everything. Shaking your head you try to touch his hand but he doesn't let you.

"Ghost where is all of this coming from I don't understand!" You choke out. "We were fine..."

"No. You were fine. If I wasn't enough you should've just said so."

"Stop... you... what the hell are you talking about???"

"Nothing that matters anymore. Keep walking and don't say another word. That's an order."

He turns and keeps walking as if nothing just happened. As if he didn't just completely broke your heart.

'You were fine'.

What was that supposed to mean? You think, walking a few meters behind him, scared to even say anything else; to even try to grab him by the arm and force him to talk. It would only make things worse right now.

By the time you reach the safe house it's started to rain the silence between the two is deafening and tense. Ghost's cold demeanor and hurtful words have left a scar. Never in a million years would you think you'd be here, with a broken, shattered heart and no explanation from his part.

Words that pierced through your soul.

That day something died inside you. And he was the reason.

-

Two weeks, three days and seven hours.

That's the time that's passed since that day at the beach. Two weeks since Simon broke you and gave you no reasons.

You're a disaster.

You barely eat or get any sleep. There's dark circles under your eyes and you're sure you've lost some weight too. Ghost has been gone on a mission alone with Johnny for a week now, which left you with a lot of spare time to think about the two of you.

More tears stream down your face when you remember that day. Had you missed something important? Was Ghost's mind somewhere dark? Somewhere it shouldn't be? God knows he was... difficult to say the least. But every single time you tried, tried to be there for him. Did those late nights at your home meant nothing? Had he not seen the way you looked at him? Had you not shown him enough of your affection? Everything you'd do for him if he simply asked?

Getting up from your bed you get ready for another day. Not bothering to lace your boots just shoving them inside your shoes you walk down the hallways until you get to the training room. Gaz is talking to John in the far corner, the Captain's arms are crossed over his chest while Kyle frowns and shakes his head. You don't to even go and salute them as you normally would do, instead you put your earphones on and hit the treadmill.

It doesn't last long though; after one minute someone stops it by pressing down the off button. Your brows knitted together as you stop, turning to look up at Gaz who smiles politely.

"Sorry for that, sweetheart. You okay?" You nod, but say nothing more. "Come here." He pats your shoulder and helps you down from the treadmill. If you could smile now you would. But no even the faintest, softest grin leaves your lips. Gaz takes a quick glimpse at your face and rubs the back of his neck. "You know, Soap and Ghost just got back. Heard Lt. was asking about you."

"Oh." You murmur. "Okay." You don't move nor dare to meet his eyes. "I'll just head back to my room."

"Uhmm. I- what I meant is he's looking for you..." Shaking your head you walk away, not having the energy to face Simon right now. And why did he need to see you? Made pretty clear that you two were done, therefore was no need to see each other unless it was work related.

-

"You really do like it here don't you." Your body goes rigid. This was supposed to be your safe place. The roof of the armory was rarely visited by anyone at this hour. Simon's voice seems softer than ever before but you don't answer. Not even turn to acknowledge him. You hear muttered words and then he crouches down to your level. "Price said you're not eating. Do we have to send you to the military counselor now?" How dare he? After all he caused this. You know he doesn't mean it in bad way, somehow he cares for you deep down. Your hands ball into fists, fighting the urge to snap at him, to push him down and just break him the way he broke you. But you don't because you still love him, and could never bring yourself to hurt him. Simon is staring intently at you, waiting, hoping for any sign. He knows he shouldn't be here. Bloody hell he knows you shouldn't even look his way never again. He deserves it. Every bit of it. "Talk to me, love. Please." It's a low whisper. A plea.

"What do you want Ghost?" You ask softly. Simon leans closer, sitting down with his legs propped up against his chest and arms resting on his knees. It's a funny look for someone his size.

"Jus' wanted to see you." You scoff playing with your hands, refusing to lock eyes with him because if you did you'd be done. "Wanted to explain..."

"Then just do it!" You sob. Your lower lip trembles. "And then leave."

"Fine." He agrees. "But I'm not leaving. I- I made a mistake, and took it out on you okay? I was scared."

"Scared?" Your head snaps to where he is sitting. It's painful just to look at him. "Why would you be scared Ghost?" You retaliate

He grumbles, never fancied when you called him that when you were alone. Quite the contradiction given the fact that he told you not to call him his name that day at the beach.

"Because I saw you." He points out. "That night. Everything you're missing for being with someone like me. Can't even show proper affection because it's not me... and you deserve more than that. More than me."

"Ghost..."

"No. Lemme finish, love." He swallows. It's always amusing how controlled he seems. "I lost it, yeah? You looked so happy. How on earth do I deserve you, on what universe do I deserve ya'?"

Sucking in a sharp breath you recall the moments that preceded the events. The sound of music blasting through the speakers, when you joined the rest of the soldiers on the other side of the pub. Private Miller had slung his arm over your shoulders in a friendly manner. You laughed and drank too much that night, it was joyful. Everyone was there, your team. You never thought he felt that way about it.

"Oh my... Simon." You cover your mouth and cry silently. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you close and into his lap. "Should've known something was wrong. Forgive me... I should've stayed with you, follow you after you left." You cry out.

You were scared too, for very different reasons. That he'd get tired of you eventually, that if you weren't cautious enough your secret would be known. Both would get suspended thus separated and discharged.

"No, love. You shouldn't have to go running after me. I should be running after you. Now forgive me, say you will. Or else I might just lose myself for good." You cradle his face in your hands lifting the balaclava just above the bridge of his nose. Thumb tracing his lower lip. Your tears have dried.

"I've missed you so much, Simon. All you gotta do is talk to me, always." He tightens his grip around you. "You think Price would let us go home tonight and not ask questions?"

His chuckle is short and soft.

"Yeah. I think he's known for a while now."

#cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost modern warfare #cod simon riley #call of duty ghost simon riley #cod mw ghost

[blood-orange-juice]

Inspired by a discord discussion.

I keep seeing characters from snowy places portrayed as unbothered by cold or missing it, and every time I remember that it's completely counterintutive if you didn't grow up in freezing temperatures

So I thought I should write this post.

We are very bothered by cold. We are way more bothered by cold than southerners. Being bothered is what keeps you safe. Warmth is a resource.

There are few lucky people who simply never get cold (mostly guys of endomorph body type) but it's not a given and generally northerners start to complain and wear warm coats at the tiniest hint of cold.

Humans can only adjust up to a certain threshold.

For example, Irish and British winters allow you to ignore weather almost completely (you'll be miserable but you'll probably live), so there's a culture of stoicism, not heating your house above 16-18°C (60-65°F), wearing shorts and sandals (and a Very Big Scarf) when it's snowing and all that.

(I quickly got used to leaving the bathroom window open at 4°C when I was living there. who cares really)

So there's a common misconception that you can do the same with even colder weather.

However, once you are past that adjustment threshold (for most people it takes as little as -5..0°C/23..32°F lasting for more than a month per year) there can be no special built-in resistance to that type of cold (unless you are a yogi or a Taoist monk), instead you learn a bunch of behaviours that help you. You start to preserve warmth religiously.

You also start to differentiate between types of being cold and avoid some of them (some build up over time and it wears you down, so it's best to avoid them entirely). Anything that drops your core temperature (this is noticeable long before you start shivering, shivering is the equivalent of fire alarm) is a huge no. Fingers getting a bit numb from building a snow castle is nothing major though.

It can be hard to unlearn that even if you moved to a warmer place years ago.

Stoic northern characters who have moved to a warmer country are very likely to Complain About The Cold.

They'll start wearing coats at higher temperatures than southerners (because, well, the weather might get worse, or you might stay outside longer than you planned, or move less).

They'll get cold hands more often because their body panics at the tiniest signs of cold and diverts blood to the centre (my first impression of the Irish was how warm everyone was when we shook hands. I'm the same now).

Most will heat their houses to the point where it's possible to walk around in a t-shirt no matter how cold it is outside (those who don't will comment "thank gods that people don't do that in your country, I hated it back home").

They'll whine at +5°C (40°F).

Apart from heavier clothes they'll have a bunch of weird habits like Walking Really Fast when the weather is bad (it's for when you don't want to wear heavier clothes).

They might have a fondness for scarves and good winter shoes (warm shoes and a warm hat are even more important than a warm coat. the lack of hats in fantasy upsets me. scarves are less important but they are pretty).

When locals get surprised they'll reply with "yes, but this is *damp* cold, *dry* cold is different" (it's more complicated than that but this answer usually stops further questions, so we go with that).

It's not like they are actually less cold-resistant, they just take cold more seriously.

At the same time they can be weirdly unbothered by things that freak some of the southerners out because they know how their body deals with low temperatures and which things have no consequences.

(it's not something that you learn from books, it's practical knowledge of what you personally can get away with. for example, I often get completely numb thighs during winter walks, takes an hour to start feeling anything when I get home. but I know it's all right as long as my feet are warm and my core temperature is within normal range)

They also won't suffer consequences when it gets truly cold, while more nonchalant southerners won't notice when they get borderline hypothermic or just cold enough to get sick.

They'll probably consider -30°C (-22°F) exciting. It becomes enjoyable again, because the outside world is now a death zone and there's some macabre fun in resisting it. Oh, and your eyelashes get covered in frost and it looks dope. What's not to like.

Kids will make a point to eat ice cream outside in -30°C (no, they won't get sick from it). I can't explain it, it just works like that.

Generally people from colder countries are not bothered by cold if they can return to a warm place soon enough, it's the prolonged exposure to cold (even mild) they are worried about. Going out for a smoke without a coat is common.

If they are still in a cold country, it's also a bit different from what you expect.

There's a trope of drinking to keep warm. It doesn't work like that. You can drink alcohol to feel warm but not to keep warm and it's an important difference. When it's cold your body's proper response is to constrict blood vessels and to divert blood flow from extremeties to slow down the loss of warmth. Alcohol reverts that.

This means it's perfectly appropriate to drink eggnog or mulled wine at a fair (when you are supposed to get to warmth soon enough, so the illusion of not being cold is not harmful) or hard spirits when you get back from the cold (it will help you warm up faster), but not if you are staying in a cold place. During a hike through winter woods a thermos with sweetened tea and fatty food are your best friends.

Some won't know it and get drunk and frostbitten/hypothermic. People are stupid.

Food gets weird, fats start to seem even tastier than usual. People in Antarctic expeditions are known to crave sticks of butter. In certain weather sandwiches with frozen lard are delicious.

Anything can and will be made into tea.

Some tropes I personally disagree with.

Pain. Pain levels depend on the weather. Cold eases any kind of external pain (cuts or burns) but makes worse anything internal (broken bones, cramps, most headaches).

Hypothermia feels nothing like peacefully falling asleep. It's the most miserable state I've ever experienced, psychological trauma doesn't even come close.

Well, maybe there are people who do fall asleep but other people I've talked to seem to share my experience.

I'm not sure how exactly it works, I think it messes up your self-regulation, since most chemicals in your body require a certain temperature range to work properly. Basically you become Not Yourself. Your emotions go whack (usually it's either extreme self-pity or extreme anger). It feels awful. I hope you never get to experience it.

Most of us don't really miss cold.

Well, some perverts do, but there's a general consensus that cold is awful.

We do miss some things that only happen during cold days though. The stillness and the quiet or how pretty snow looks. How bright the stars are on a clear night. The colour of sunsets and twilight sky when it's freezing.

(in my opinion, the best experience happens around -5°C, it's already pretty but the world is not a death zone yet)

There's also an appreciation of contrast with things that are Not Snow.

Walking from the cold into a greenhouse with orchids.

Watching a blizzard rage outside your window while you sit in warmth with a cup of tea.

Jumping into a lake straight out of a sauna (then going back. do not do that if you have a heart condition).

Fireplaces. Holiday food. Mulled wine. Saffron in pastry.

There's also a lot of beauty in the world that is frozen. I keep stumbling upon the fact no one around me shares these experiences anymore and it saddens me.

The xylophone sound of first ice being broken by a passing boat.

Sea moving under the ice — when it's not too thick it rises and falls like some large animal breathing.

The whale-song-like sounds of ice cracking on large lakes.

There's a very special mood of waiting for first snow. The world is too cold and dark without it and then you wake up one night from the sudden quietness (snow muffles all sounds) and you know it's there even before you look out of the window,

There's the exhiliration of spring. The moment when the wind starts to have a scent — thawing snow smells a bit like watermelons but clearer. Winter smells like nothing at all.

The first tiny yellow flowers in mud. They are our hanami.

(I don't think anyone in Europe truly appreciates spring if they are not from Nordic or Baltic countries)

There's a certain attunement to the scent of ice too.

Like that barely perceptible tingle in the air in late September, long before you can see any ice.

I feel the scent of ice when there's wind from the right part of the Atlantic. No one ever notices but it's there. I love it.

It's nostalgic in a way.

But it's never missing the cold itself for me. For very few people it is, I think.

*

This is, of course, personal perspective and my experience is not universal. I'm a person from continental climate with harsh winters and hot summers and a city dweller with occasional visit to country houses and a tiny bit of mountaineering experience.

An indigenous person from a place with barely any summer or a character from a fantasy everwinter country will probably differ from me.

There are, after all, simply people who genuinely love cold. A lot of them. It is, however, not the default northerner's experience.

But hey, it's still more complex than it's usually written.

*

If you want to read something focused on winter descriptions, there's Smilla's Sense of Snow by Peter Høeg.

It's hauntingly beautiful prose and the main character is from Greenland.

‘It’s freezing, an extraordinary -18 °C, and it’s snowing, and in the language which is no longer mine, the snow is qanik – big, almost weightless crystals falling in stacks and covering the ground with a layer of pulverized white frost.’

And then there's Moominland Midwinter. I think it gets better when you read it as an adult and it's probably still the best thing I have ever read about winter solstice.

Anyway.

I think we need more good winter stories.

#'the centre of the universe is always warm' says one of our poets #and I still live by that #writing #snow

[blorbocedes]

i kinda have a basic idea Brocedes lore, like the timeline and everything. but were there moments post Monaco 2014 till the end of 2016 where Lewis and Nico had some nice and genuinely fun moments or were they all awkward and distant with each other?

the answer to this is complicated. well, my header gif happened months after monaco 14, in Abu Dhabi 14. so this is nico congratulating lewis for winning his 2nd championship (1st with merc) and its way after lewis said "we're not friends." so like all things brocede they're.. Like That (whyre u holding a man you're not friends with by the nape of his neck 😳😳😳🤨)

Ladies and gentlemen, a short look into the not so distant past...

obviously every year as the silver war progressed, tensions arose but that didn't mean they couldn't stand to look at each other. those 3 years of early merc domination era HAM-ROS were on every podium, and they were pretty happy spraying champagne on each other as I've documented here, and here

this is a video from December 2015 stars and cars where they're being very playful and teasing each other

this is them wishing each other happy birthday in 2015

this is nico on lewis' snapchat

this is nico playing football on lewis' snapchat (you can hear lewis snicker)

this is lewis lowering nico's chair on purpose in 2015

this is nico umm pretending to hold a bottle for lewis to pee in while DR live slug reacts Hungarian Grand Prix 2016

this is them giggling together at a sponsor event in 2016

this is them teasing each other about being old in 2016

there's definitely podiums and cool-down rooms where things are Tense and they're Avoiding Eye Contact/Talking to each other, depending on how the race went. but there's also them amused and laughing together such as mexico 16 and aus 16

we all remember the iconic nico throws cap at lewis but the crazy part is this was them hugging moments before,

and this is them partying together after that

this is AD16 and lewis is saying he likes presscons when it's just him and nico 🥲

this whole press con is ahhhhhh. pain

lewis' own words on how they were:

this isn't an exhaustive list, there's many more, but rather so you have an idea that although the popular narrative is once lewis said we're not friends post monaco 14 they never looked at each other again it's not exactly true. things never was like they're childhood besties again, but they also didn't outright despise each other despite what fandom might speculate. but that doesn't mean things weren't awkward and tense too, esp in merc meetings post race! cause it was! but they also had some sweet and fun moments in between :) such is the bittersweet nature of brocedes

#oops this got long 😅 and it's still not Everything I just got embarrassed at the length #have fun clicking through the links #silver war #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #brocedes #blorbocedes ask #a small silver war primer I guess

[betasquads]

NEEDY, Niko Omilana

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———————————

Summary: Niko was never this impatient. Calling you, texting you to come urgently to his apartment. You've never seen him like this and you wonder how it'd turn out if you stretched the situation by not giving in.

Warnings: gets REALLY heated but no smut bc writing smut is so complicated

A/N: omd my phone broke so this was difficult to write and thats why its RLLY short and terrible. also I was a little uncomfortable writing this even tho I've written smut before + it's not rlly smut just detailed making out. (this is horrible, read on your own risk!)

Humming to your favorite song everytime you had to do work infront of your laptop was the only thing that kept you sane and kept you going without any interruption.

You kept hearing your phone buzzing multiple times, but you chose to ignore it just so you could finish all the work you had to do.

You had to send out emails to clients just like what your boss had ordered for you to do, but the amount of time your phone kept buzzing was starting to get you annoyed.

You still decided to ignore it, that was until you heard your phone ringing. Your eyes that was latched on the laptop across of you was now on the phone that was laid next to you.

You sigh when you realize it's your boyfriend, Niko. You bring the phone to your ears when you answer.

"What is it? I'm still trying to send emails and my manager will kill me if he finds out I haven't sent them yet–"

"Haven't you seen my texts?" His voice was hushed and you could even pinpoint Sharky and Aj talking and laughing in the background.

"No? I didn't know that it was you sending me those messages. What is going on?" You're now worried, confused with why he had to call you since he knew you were busy.

"Well..." His voice trails off, like he was trying to think if it was a good idea to tell you or not.

"Niko just spit it out–"

"I need you here, like right now." You were cut off, a little a taken aback by the fact that he was whispering and sounded too desperate. He always loved your company, but not to the point where he needed you even while you were working.

"Is everything okay? Aren't you supposed to be filming right now?" You question, placing your phone on your shoulder and bringing it up to your ears while typing things on your laptop.

"Well, filming got canceled and they thought it'd be a great idea by coming over at Aj and I's apartment. And I uhm– need you." He clears his throat and sounded even a little embarrassed. You still didn't get the point or the message he was trying to send you.

"You can survive a few hours without me, Niko." You say, half annoyed. You still try to fight the grin that was close to forming on your face.

"No, you don't understand. I feel uncomfortable in those jeans and I need you. I need you to come to my apartment." He sighs in the end, impatient.

You hum when you finally understand what he wants. You bite your lip at his urgency, tempted, but not too tempted where you would give up to him. You wondered how it would turn out if you didn't go to him or accept his request.

"I don't know Niko. Im really busy with all of this. Can't you wait?" You try to hide your laugh, picturing him trying to relieve himself by shifting in any position. You weren't that busy, you could've easily sent the emails and leave.

"Fuck– are you serious?" He sighs. You raise your eyebrows, surpised that he cursed.

"Mhm." You hum, a little extra to get him around the edge.

"y/n, im serious. I need you to come here." He whines. You were a little surprised by how needy he was since usually he was never like this.

"And so am I. Try surviving for a few hours you schmuck." Before he has another word to say, you immediately close the call.

Not even a second later, the phone begins ringing again, a wide smile forming on your face.

You put your phone on silent, nervous, excited to how this would turn out after you finish your work.

This was going to be fun.

—

The call between you and Niko had slipped your mind. Hours passed by and now you stood infront of the bathroom mirror, applying your daily skincare routine before sleeping. You yawn, ready to tuck yourself in bed.

You were almost fully asleep until you were awoken by the three loud bangs that came from your front door.

You groan since you were really comfortable with your position, hesitantly getting up and walking to the front door.

You unlock the door, not thinking much of it until you were met face to face with your boyfriend. He slowly walks to you and he casts a long glance over your face with his dark gaze.

"Niko." You say surpised, now fully awake and now it felt like you didn't wanna sleep anymore.

His hand caresses your cheek, thumb slowly skimming over your bottom lip as he takes his own between his teeth. Desire builds in the pit of your stomach the longer his burning gaze stares at your mouth, which miraculously have the same hypnotic effect on you despite the usual brown absent from his irises, now it was completely black.

He closes the distance between your yearning mouths and you immediately respond to him, your hands going up to thread through his dark hair.

He pushes you until your back somehow ended up in the counter of your kitchen, leaning above of you, and pressing one hand against the small of your back. You hear plates clattering and pull back from the kiss to see his hand impatiently pushing away the plates to the other side of the counter.

The kiss was heated and needy which made you impossible to think straight. A small whine is emitted from your throat when his mouth leaves yours, as his hand tilts your head back to give him better access to your neck. His hot lips latch onto the exposed skin, sucking harshly with occasional swipes of his tongue to soothe the sensitive, cool skin.

He groans when he hears a satisfied sigh leaving your mouth, knowing that you were actually satisfied. You trail a hand into his hair, lightly fisting the soft locks between your fingers.

"Niko," You sigh, reveling in the feeling of his mouth and glorious tongue working against your skin, as his cold hands slide underneath your top, making you silently gasp.

His hands hook around your thighs and he lifts you up onto the counter. He stands between your legs and you wrap them around his waist, pulling him in closer. Your hands caress the sides of his cheeks and you bring his face back to yours, sealing your lips over his in a hungry kiss.

He let's out breathy whines once you grip his hair to deepen the kiss. His hands wraps around your waist a little aggressively and he pushes himself against you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips still ghosting over yours, "I missed you." He rasps and hums, tracing your jaw and his thumb lingers on your bottom lip. He teasingly runs his lips against yours and claims your mouth in a languid kiss. Niko traces the tip of his tongue over your lips, patiently waiting until you willingly part them for him.

A soft moan is coaxed out of you when his tongue glides over yours, your extremities burning for more. You run your hands up in the back of his neck, your fingers curl into his messy locks. His hand falls from your face, curving over your hip, down your backside and gripping the flesh of your thigh.

"You are driving me crazy. You seriously have no idea," He says out of context and you laugh breathily, flicking his tongue with yours.

His open mouth finding your neck, sucking, biting, and his hot mouth nibbling down to your chest, a rumble sounding in his chest as he reaches the cleavage exposed in the white silky pajamas you were wearing to your bed.

"How was everything? You know– shit– you know your boys and everything." You manage to gasp out, tightening your fist in his dark hair.

He let's out a devious chuckle, lifting your leg with his hold on your thigh and hitching it around his hip. Raising his head, blazing brown eyes meet yours, head cocked.

"It was torture." his teeth graze your neck, your pulse leaping underneath his mouth, emitting a low hum from him.

"And why is that?" You question trying to get a rise out of him since he never really liked going into detail whenever he needs you desperately, breath hitching as he playfully bites down.

"As I said, I really missed you." he replies, kissing up your throat until his mouth seals over yours. His hand flexes around your thigh and you feel his hardness press into yours, your throat, triggering a moan from swallowed by his fervent kiss.

You gasp into his mouth and he hums, grinding into your hips slowly. His intimate touch makes it impossible to form a coherent thought and you groan, breaking the kiss.

Opening your mouths to each other simultaneously, Niko groans deeply, tongue stroking yours. You nudge your thighs apart, pulling him in as close as possible even though the only thing separating the both of you were your clothes. He runs his large hands over your clothed thigh, gripping the flesh of your thighs.

You use his dark brown locks clutched in your fingers to pull his head back, peppering kisses down his throat. His Adam's apple bobs and you slide your tongue over it, hearing his breath catch. "Fuck." He says under his breath, desperate moans falling from his lips.

He breathes through a half moan as you suck hard. He pulls you back up to meet his dark gaze, "How about we take this to my bedroom?" You tilt your head.

"You don't have to sound desperate, schmuck." He replies. You roll your eyes with a smile, Niko smiling and sending you looks that was far from innocent.

And the night ended up with his needs being satisfied.

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#niko omilana x reader #niko omilana #niko omilana imagine #niko x reader #nikoomilana #beta squad #niko omilana oneshot #beta squad x reader #beta squad kenny #betasquad imagine #beta squad chunkz #aj shabeel imagine #aj shabeel x reader #aj shabeel #aj beta squad #beta squad sharky #beta squad imagine #betasquad #beta squad oneshot #sharky x reader #sharky imagine #sharky #sharky oneshot #chunkz #chunkz beta squad #chunkz x reader #niko oneshot #niko imagine #king kenny #kenny beta squad

[myrmica]

mer my dear mutual mer i would like to ask you how do i get into lifesteal

HELLO FARLANDS!! you've come to the right place. Step into my office.

this is an interesting question with a variety of different answers. a lot of the time people seem to direct you towards videos rather than stream vods, which does makes sense, because they're more accessible and the barrier to entry is definitely less daunting.

but lifesteal videos aren't episodic, they're designed for a viewer to be able to jump in with little to no context at any moment. they throw a lot of information at you fast as hell, and events spanning hours and hours of footage are condensed down in ways where most of the meat gets cut off. i have a hard time absorbing information from or remembering what happens in lifesteal videos because of the editing styles... i don't claim that this isn't in large part a taste thing, but in videos you miss the complicated character moments, and the sense of pacing/chronology, and all of the things that happen that don't translate well to video logic. and you don't get to see (as much of) the dimension of things where the fact that everyone is trying to make videos can be character and story relevant information. all of these things are what make lifesteal season 4 my favorite minecraft roleplay ever in the world. i guess i would say that i do like lifesteal videos, but mostly in relation to the livestreams.

all of which means that while pretty much any lifesteal video ever produced can make for a perfectly serviceable starting point, it doesn't really get you any of the things about lifesteal --i-- care about. and you're asking ME. So.

what is the deal with lifesteal in general?

you probably know at least some of this already, but for the sake of the thing:

lifesteal is a server based around a mechanic where, upon killing someone, you gain one of the hearts off of their health bar up to a maximum of 20. if you lose all of your hearts you're banned, but this is temporary and players can be revived. it's also a server where you're free to steal and destroy builds to your heart's content, and people toy with breaking the rules they do have often. so it naturally follows that lifestealers are generally interested in pvp, and have a social system where the most important relationships are your teammates, who come before basically anything else. lifesteal IS roleplay but it isn't scripted, and what they mean by unscripted is that the outcomes of a conflict can't be predetermined, because that would defeat the point—if something goes wrong, it goes wrong. (and hopefully, it goes right for somebody else.)

why season 4?

short answer, because it's the one that has the guys i care about in the situations i care about. the long answer is at 9k words and not even close to done yet so you're gonna have to wait a bit on that one.

the medium answer: while you could go back and watch through season 3 in detail, or try to just start watching season 5 and keep up with stuff live as it happens, that's not what i did. i have it on good authority that the mer guide to lifesteal season 4 works, because i did that, and also because my friend whose initial reaction to lifesteal was "wow this subz guy is loud..." and then radio silence for months has since sat through 30 hours of princezam building stream of his own free will. see review below:

lifesteal can be sort of an acquired taste. i think a lot of the time it either clicks for you or it doesn't, or you have to see the right thing and then suddenly the appeal starts making sense.

luckily, the aftermath of zam betraying mapicc & ro in season 4 tends to have this effect on people, and it's a good jumping in point! i didn't actually start watching season 4 chronologically, i started by bouncing around the last couple weeks of the season and quickly discovering that it was bonkers fucking crazy and i needed to know more about this "eclipse federation" thing... so i don't really think knowing how it ends makes it less fun to watch, and if you wanted to just poke around at random and see what's up i wouldn't stop you. i went back and sat through everything between that aforementioned betrayal and the end of season 4 chronologically after i already knew how things ended up and it's thoroughly enjoyable that way. maybe even better than the alternative, because you're less likely to get caught up in how frustrating some of it can be. but if you would rather know as little as possible going in you can definitely give it a shot, and i do think there are parts that are probably even more fun if you don't know what's coming.

how do i do that though?

and here is my gift to you. when i watched through season 4 all i had to go off of was the vod archive spreadsheet, which is great & wonderful & awesome & the best thing ever, but it does kinda just have you clicking links blindfolded if you don't already know what's going on.

so eventually i started keeping track of vods as i watched, in a google doc. it has clips and/or timestamps and summaries for basically every vod in the second half of season 4. it's a little embarrassing because it records a bunch of my initial reactions to stuff but c'est la vie. it's also 85 pages long (it was 105! i edited my notes down!), but again you can jump around to get a lay of the land if you want, and how much stuff you skip is completely at your own discretion. have at it.

#m #lifesteal #lifesteal smp #lssmp #asks

[simpingland]

Who is Higgins?// Jamie Tartt x neutral!reader.

Being new at Richmond is always complicated no matter how many times you have been there. One lonely Jamie Tartts grows font of Rebecca's new assistant.

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You'd rarely been to team parties, but if your boss insists you go, when she's six feet tall, in heels and a smile she rarely gave you, you have to accept. The team had won after a tough period of defeats, and although it may sound childish, you had been through an even worse period. No, you hadn't lost a game, but you'd spent the same hours as the players around the stadium, chasing Rebecca wherever she went. Being new to the building had been harder than anyone could have expected, with Rebecca getting frustrated with the team and equally frustrated with you. She barely left you time to socialise, although at least Keeley had been there every day to give you a smile. You could also add Ted to that short list, of course, who always stopped by to ask you about your day, never mind that you always responded with the boring routine of the day. Coach and Nate gave you little more than a pleasant greeting, and the players...well, to each his own. When you got to work, you had no idea why the arrival of a former player had put all the teammates in such a disgruntled mood. Even good old Dani Rojas didn't agree with the arrival of this Jamie Tartt. At the first meeting with him, you understood everything.

"And who the fuck are you supposed to be now?" he blurted out the first time he saw you enter Ted's office.

"I could ask you the same question." Your sentence was typical of a confident person, too bad that wasn't the case. You could hear the nervousness and surprise in your voice.

"Sure... playing dumb..." Jamie was smiling, laughing at you. He stood there waiting for you to blush, biting his lip flirtatiously and putting his hands on his hips, almost posing. But you did nothing but stare at him in confusion. He was cute, yes, but you needed Ted, not him. "You genuinely don't know who I am...wow."

He went from that pose to that of a normal person and just as confused as you. You were amused then and couldn't hide a smile as you shrugged.

"I'm Rebecca's secretary, if that answers your question. I'm...new."

"Didn't Rebecca already have a secretary?"

"...no. Higgins is the communications director, not secretary."

"Who's Higgins?"

This made you laugh, and although Jamie had been totally serious, he decided to take that as an accomplishment and stood smiling as he waited for you to stop laughing.

"I'm Y/N," you held out your hand.

"Jamie Tartt," he accepted it.

"Oh... you look so familiar..."

"Well, I played for Chelsea until recently."

"Nah, I'm not much of a football fan. Must be something else..."

"Well, I'm quite popular." He put on that star pose again.

"I don't doubt it. It's just that lately I've been a bit... scattered. This job is more stressful than it seems. And I'm new in town, so...I'm going to shut up now, I'm being a pain, aren't I? Yes, I am. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's okay to overshare once in a while. If it's any consolation, I didn't get the best welcome either..." his tone was tender. All that cool guy stuff was behind him. He had hidden his hands in his pockets.

"Gee, I'm sorry. I guess things always get better...at least I'm making some serious dough! God, I'm going to enjoy my retirement so much..."

You watched as Jamie smiled and was about to say something else when Ted walked in with his trademark accent and cheerfulness. You immediately resolved your doubt and said goodbye to both of them, giving Jamie a shy smile.

"Higgins is a cartoon...that's the description I'd give him. He looks like a cartoon." And you walked away.

From that day on, when you passed him, you only had time to say good morning, good afternoon or good evening. You rarely had more than a three-minute walk together, and if you hadn't been so busy synchronising schedules and events for Rebecca, you would have noticed that Jamie was always late at his trainings to walk with you wherever you went.

During the match in which the boys had emerged victorious, two goals (out of three) had been scored by Jamie Tartt, and you noticed at once that in none of them had he been as congratulated by his teammates as Sam had been on his one goal. It was true that Sam was a spectacular boy, but the detachment of the teammates from Jamie was all too palpable. When the game was over, you congratulated Ted, taking advantage of the fact that he had stayed behind, and the smile you received from him was like a fatherly hug, happy to be seen socialising for the first time.

It was Keeley who solved the clothing question, and thanks to her, you were able to avoid the ridicule of wearing office clothes. So a quick visit to your tiny flat and you were ready to have some fun. By the time you got to the club, half the guys were already drunk out of their minds. The first drink was passed to you by Dani Rojas, and you barely spoke to Rebecca because she was too busy dancing with a friend of hers and Keeley. As usual, everyone fell back into their groups, with Ted and the coaches (and Higgins), Rebecca with her girls, and the players. You had no confidence in any of them, though they were too close to you as they danced drunkenly, and coordination was starting to fail them. It didn't take you long to pour your own drink over someone you hadn't seen.

"Sorry!" You turned around and started to swipe your hand without even looking at who it was.

"Relax, it's these wankers who aren't careful." It was Jamie, who had just arrived. And you'd stained his whole shirt with your San Francisco. "I'll forgive you if you buy me a drink."

Before the drink, you went down to the toilets, and wetting one of the towels in that posh place, you tried to get the stain out of the shirt. You watched in the mirror as Jamie enjoyed his look, a shirtless blazer.

"I've always looked good in this outfit," he declared.

"For some reason, it suits you to have worn that outfit to a funeral..."

"And all the little old ladies would faint, and with a little kiss, I'd bring them back to life." He winked at himself.

"I know where I know you from!" He stood expectantly, glad that he could finally pose as a hero. "You were on that couples show! Oh, my God! My grandma had the biggest crush on you!"

Again he turned red, and dropped the pose. He nodded his head as he let you laugh at him.

"I'm not proud of it..."

"Well, you can do a lot of other bad things, Jamie." He smiled warmly at you, still blushing. "You were amazing today. You were a star."

"Thanks, even though I don't feel like one." He leaned against the faucet, leaning closer to you as you finished drying his shirt.

"I've already noticed that the boys... they're still a little stubborn. These things take time."

"I don't really have anything to make up for either, I was never a good team player. And I think the idolatry they had for me has completely disappeared. And now it's totally the other way round. They hate me now."

"Hate is not the word. It's important for you to know that. People hate bad people, and being a bad team player doesn't make you a bad person. Besides... you made them win. That's not so easily forgotten."

"They like you... The boys. They like you. And I like you too."

"Well, I'm glad, and if I'm being honest, I like you the best out of all of them."

"Really? Better than Dani?"

"Yes. I swear."

"Why?"

"Well, you don't overshare your life with just any stranger. I guess you're still special beyond the field."

He was silent for a second. It was obvious then how sad he always felt. As if he had to hold back that insecurity because he had no one to leave it with.

"Thank you for saying that."

"I mean it."

"I know. You're special too."

"Thank you. It's been too long since I've felt like this. I can have my friends and family a phone call away, but over time, they become things that only exist on the phone, nothing more."

"I live here. If you need to talk, just knock on my door."

"So invite me over."

"Whenever you want."

To you he meant it as a joke, but not to Jamie. He had rarely let people he knew (and liked) stay at his house for more than a day. The only exception had been Keeley. And he had never had the urge to talk that much with anyone else. But in that bathroom of pink lights, with your hair tousled and smelling of vanilla and cocktails, your company was all Jamie wanted.

When the t-shirt dried, you were encouraged to go upstairs again. You tried to pay for the drinks, but Jamie spoke to Isaac, to whom he explained that he had spilt your drink on him. And the captain apologetically invited you both to the next round.

"Propose a toast!" You shouted in Jamie's ear, the music was too loud. "To Sam and the team! That's a nice gesture!"

Jamie looked surprised at the idea but nodded and got the attention of the whole team, the coaches, and even your boss.

"Oi! A toast! For Obisanya, you're a fucking champion! WE'RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE!" once he started singing, everyone sang along with him. The euphoria made them sing the song assigned to Jamie and sooner than expected, the footballer was pushed into the group. You smiled at him from afar, lonely but happy to see him join the group. Jamie was quick to gently take your hand to include you in the circle.

Everyone was dancing, and the first drink began to rise gently, just enough so that you could let yourself dance. And although you weren't particularly good at it, you could tell you were enjoying it, and the usual glow of enjoyment began to decorate your cheeks. Jamie didn't miss that glow for a second. He had gone only because Ted had mentioned that you were going to the party, and he was glad (for the first time in his life) that he had listened to the American.

The night went on like that, as did your walks in the stadium, with meaningless but fast and funny conversations, Jamie teaching you his "captivating" dance steps while laughing at your "captivating" steps. Neither of you ever got drunk because the drinks were slowly running out. You were too entertained by each other. He ran his hand around your waist, and every time he spoke to you, he put his lips to your ear as you put your lips to his ear. So most conversations were held with our faces too close together, but his breath smelled of cocacola and some mint. Jamie's eyes were lighter than you'd think, and he had a laugh that was easier to get out than the journalist would think.

Nothing happened that night, he just kissed you on the cheek, but you, being the most awkward person in the world, were clumsy enough to kiss him too close to the mouth. And if that wasn't enough, the reaction was similar to that of a child seeing a spider, with a compressed scream and jumping backwards. Jamie just laughed at you.

The following Monday, he came back to Rebecca's office with you. He was already showered from training and seemed to be in a hurry. When you got to one of the corridors with stairs, which was deserted at that hour, Jamie stopped you and put his hand on your arm.

"I know who Higgins is!"

"Jamie, you scared me." You started to laugh, between his look of delight at having understood who Higgins was and at the fullness of having described him so well. "He's a fantastic man. He told me the other day about his wife, they're so cute, they've been together for like twenty years--"

Jamie's hands moved to stroke your hair, and you let him kiss you. Slowly but intensely, you leaned against the wall as you kissed him back. You'd been looking forward to it all weekend, and you could tell he had too. When you pulled apart, Jamie looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry...it's rude to interrupt. It's just that the other day I couldn't sleep, the kiss you gave me was right under my left nostril...or right, whatever. And it smelled like lip balm. And it smelled fucking great. And I haven't stopped thinking about you all weekend."

"I spent all weekend thinking about how your face stung a little, but it was still strangely soft..."

"Thank you..." he smiled confidently and kissed you again. You weren't being very professional, but after all that stress, you deserved some fun at work. Jamie tasted like mint and smelled like cookies and leather. He broke the kiss for a second. "Oh, no..."

"What's wrong?"

He smirked again, and you were reassured by that mischievous look he wore whenever he knew he was going to score a goal. "Your grandma's going to be jealous..."

#jamie tartt reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x neutral!reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #phil dunster #jamie tartt fluff

[kedreeva]

Sorry about the color mix up. I appreciate the reply and additional info! I guess bc I know nothing about peafowl (and the fact i dont breed any type of animal), I'm having a hard time understanding how being sterile would be unethical. I do somewhat get the shortened life span. I really would like to understand this, I just sometimes need stuff explained like I'm 5.

Up front, there's no "somewhat get" to a shortened lifespan being caused by a mutation in captive populations. If an animal is capable of living 20+ years (and some live 30+ or even 40+!) and some non-essential mutation is causing them to live 7-9 years, it's flat out absolutely unethical to breed that mutation, full stop, regardless of anything else going on. That's indicative of a MAJOR problem in their genetics. There's NO ethical reason to breed that because humans like how it looks. So, even without the sterility, these birds would 100% be unethical to produce.

The short answer on sterility is this: we don't know WHY they are sterile, but they shouldn't be, and that means something has gone wrong. When something goes wrong with an animal, and it's something genetic that can be passed on, the ONLY responsible and ethical thing for a breeder to do is to stop using that animal for breeding and closely monitor any already-produced offspring for signs of the problem, and likely not breed them, either.

The longer more complicated answer is this: sometimes it's possible to separate the problem from the aesthetic when it comes to morphs, like it was for cameo + blindness, but sometimes it's NOT, like it wasn't for spider + head wobble for ball pythons. In those instances, it's... difficult. Because you're LIKELY going to produce animals that suffer the same problem as their parent(s), in the attempt to separate the problem from the aesthetic, and sometimes that's ALL you're going to produce. As a breeder, it's your absolute responsibility to NOT release the offspring into the general population, where the problem may be replicated without control, and to keep or cull the affected individuals if the problem cannot be separated from the aesthetic, or AT BEST find them guaranteed pet-only homes that will NEVER breed them.

Sometimes the problem IS purely aesthetic or harmless, like it was for pied in peafowl, and sometimes it's not, like it was for vitiligo in peafowl. The problem comes when you ASSUME a mutation is the first, and treat it like the first when it's really the second. This has caused FAR reaching consequences in the peafowl community, and I'm sure in others, where now the autoimmune disease that first bronze had has been passed into genpop by folks who thought they were breeding a harmless new variation of pied. Hybrid animals are often sterile (not in peafowl though, hybrid cristatus-muticus birds are fertile) because of a mismatch in chromosome pairing numbers, and often that's harmless. So, in some cases sterility is not an issue because it's the expected result or is otherwise harmless... but in the case of peafowl, it's NOT an expected result and we don't know if it's caused by something harmless or not.

Some species, like mice and horses and cattle and dogs, genetic testing and DNA mapping done with millions of dollars has proven that while some stuff isn't purely aesthetic, it also doesn't cause harm to the animal in a way that affects quality of life or that can be adapted for in captive care. For example, in chickens, the frizzle gene causes curled feathers in single copy and an absence of feathers in double copy. This gene is considered ethical to produce IF the breeding is done responsibly by putting a single copy bird over a zero copy bird, which produces smooth coats and frizzle coats, but it is unethical to produce double frizzles (called "frazzles") because frazzles cannot thermoregulate, can easily sunburn, and easily suffer skin injury during normal chicken activity.

For peafowl, we have NO genetic testing. We do not have the genome mapped. As far as I know there's a research group working on it (mostly for green peafowl though, in conservation efforts), but that's not remotely finished or available to the public to test anything. We don't know where any of the morph mutations sit, or what is causing them or if they do anything beyond just change the color. Sometimes color mutations are the result of malfunctions in enzymes. For charcoal specifically, we don't know what the mutation does, besides what we can observe on the outside- the birds have half or less the lifespan of normal birds, poor feather quality, and the hens are sterile. Is the sterility harmless like it is in some hybrid animals, or is it actually a major organ failing? Is it the only major organ that fails due to this mutation, or is it just the first sign of their shortened lives? Is it some deficiency in something the birds need to be healthy? Does it hurt the bird? We don't know, but we do know the mutation and the problems (multiple, please do NOT forget that this is one OF MORE THAN ONE problems) can't be separated, and so until we do know why and whether it's harmless or not, the ONLY ethical response to seeing a problem in a major organ's function linked inextricably to a mutation in color is to not propagate that mutation. If someone wanted to fork over the millions it takes to sequence and map genomes and then determine exactly what is going on with peafowl, that would be nice and good, but I don't see that happening. When I win the lottery big, I'll be doing it, but til then we can only follow normal breeding guidelines

Also, to put this into perspective... peafowl mature sexually around 3 years old. They are chicks until the turn of the new year following their hatch. They are yearlings that year, and immature 2yo next year. They aren't actually considered fully grown until 6 years old, and should live another 14+ years. Charcoal birds die a 1-3 years after full maturity. Is it a coincidence that they fail to thrive shortly after full sexual maturity, or is it linked? Again, we don't know. We don't know if the sterility is fine or if it's just a symptom of something worse.

Even without the sterility, though, charcoal has enough issues it would be unethical. If it was JUST sterility, with no other deleterious effects, then maybe it would be different. But it's not.

#peafowl #asks #anon asks #as always please bear in mind that animal breeding is NOT the same as human reproduction ethics #and I ONLY deal in animal ethics #and honestly even if it was just shit feather quality then I would personally consider it bad breeding #I asked the only person I know who still has charcoals what their issues were and lord it is worse than I thought even #she's keeping/breeding only what she can keep herself #and experimenting with feeding regimens in the hopes of correcting a nutritional deficiency #that might account for the sterility #but so far after like 10+ years she's had no luck #so it's not likely #Like there are SO MANY perfectly fine and healthy morphs out there #there's NO reason to keep making this one #it's not essential to the continuance of the species #also to anon: I'm not mad at all this is just how i sound about my special interest #I'm glad you asked questions #I appreciate you seeking info

[actual-changeling]

Do you think Crowley would be more emotionally open without Aziraphale? I’ve never thought about it, but I’ve just read the tags of your last ask and now I’m really interested

Short answer? Yes, absolutely.

Long answer? Also yes, but it's complicated. <- past me was correct, this got very long, my apologies.

What-if scenarios are always part canonical evidence/part subjective interpretation, because the only Crowley we know is the one who spent six thousand years orbiting Aziraphale.

Still, there was a pre-Aziraphale him, up until Job I presume, which is when they started being lonely together, and we do see what they were like!

The Starmaker is his 'before', the being he was before the doubt, the war, the fall. Before hell and the garden and Aziraphale. She is the blueprint the Crowley we know is built on. In the short time we have with her, she's incredibly emotive—with both positive and negative emotions—and her body language is soft, almost fluid.

Showing emotions is simply a natural part of being a person, and what exactly that looks like obviously varies; but this angel has never been punished for doing so. There are no consequences, it's safe to exist however she wants (though not much longer).

After this, we get Crawley what I assume is more or less a short amount of time after the fall. Everyone got settled in hell, and once the institution was functional, they now needed to actually have humans running around on earth. Otherwise there are no souls to torture.

Even here, Crawley is still open, still smiling, still soft, although a bit more covert in their body language. She laughs and—this is the important part—questions God right on there on the walls of Eden.

Even after falling for asking question, she does not stop, not for one moment. Despite the trauma they undoubtedly must have gone through, Crawley sees an angel, slithers up to him, and strikes up a conversation, trusting that he will not hurt them.

Now, this is where subjective interpretation comes in, because we have no information of what the fall was actually like. They got punished for asking question, for rebelling, for trying to change the system—but in my opinion, they never got punished for having emotions.

In the modern day, angels are terrified of making mistakes or asking question, but they are still emotive, they physically express their feelings. Some are more intense in their expressions, others subdued, but from Muriel all the way to Gabriel, they talk about emotions, they show emotions, and that in of itself is not a crime.

Hell is just as—if not more—emotional than heaven. Just remember Hastur when Ligur was melting and then later during the trial, or Beelzebub when ze summons Crowley in the first episode.

Yes, they communicate in code a lot, but only when it comes to very specific kinds of information and interactions, not when someone is going insane over the blaring alarm.

Why does all of this matter?

Because it proves that the level of emotional suppression Crowley and particularly Aziraphale have reached is not taught by either heaven or hell.

Instead, just like Aziraphale's claims that 'heaven is watching', it is a rule system instated by himself for himself, and by extension for Crowley; he set the requirements for interaction and forced Crowley to meet them if he wanted to be around him.

We don't see Crowley laugh the way he did as Bildad or the Starmaker anymore, we never see him carefree or joyous or sad. I mean for fuck's sake, he HIDES behind his glasses, a physical manifestation of the repression he's caught in.

Humans wouldn't notice his eyes in the same way the police doesn't notice them at the convent in Tadfield. The glasses show up during Job, and we know Crowley already had a plan to go against orders, so glasses it is. However, he doesn't wear them during the crucifixion, which comes after Job. Crowley tells us she spent a lot of time with Jesus, so you'd expect her to be wearing them, but she isn't—whatever her relationship with Jesus was, she seemed to trust him a lot, and Aziraphale wasn't around.

Aziraphale is the one who demands silence, who never wants to talk about anything he himself hasn't approved as a 'safe' topic, he and his fucking forgiveness whenever Crowley questions God, calling him a demon and pushing him away whenever he openly shows affection towards Aziraphale.

So yeah, of course Crowley cannot regulate his emotions and has no idea how to express himself now, Aziraphale has shoved a gag down his throat for six thousand bloody years and still wants it to stay in place. Our closed-off Crowley would not exist without Aziraphale's continuous presence in his life, and that is a hill I am more than willing to die on.

Crowley is getting his heart broken in the worst, most violent way imaginable both times. But now? His face is stone and steel, one third of it hidden away behind black-out glasses. No tears, no words, no desperation, no flying hands or fluidly moving body.

This is the kind of person you become when someone else forces you to make yourself small, when emotions are punished and affection withheld until you act the way they want. It's horrible, it's unhealthy, and it destroys parts of yourself that you will never get back, no matter how hard you try.

So, in conclusion, yes, without Aziraphale's influence, Crowley would be softer, more open, and we would still see remnants of the Starmaker in him—but we don't.

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #crowley meta #getting ready to receive anon hate in 3 2 1...

[zygomantic]

Nanami comforting a sad/depressed fem reader after he comes home from work. (Had a horrible day/week and need any kind of comfort)

A/n: Honestly same. Always happy to provide comfort, thank you for your request! This is very short but it is what it is. Also, reader could be considered gender neutral.

You're not alone.

Synopsis: Your husband Nanami comes home from work and finds you crying on the couch. He helps you through it.

Content Warnings: Mentioned Depression, negative thoughts

You blankly stared at the TV, which by now had been running for multiple hours. You'd spent your hours flicking through channels and streaming services, hoping to find anything interesting to pass the time until your husband came home.

Your frustration grew the longer you searched. Why did this have to be so complicated? Fuck, it just added to the pile shit that didn't work like you wanted to. Your job was stressing you out and you knew the next months weren't going to be any more relaxed. Nanami was just as busy, mission after mission keeping him away from home. You missed him but didn't fault him for doing his job.

Since this morning you were feeling down, and though you'd struggled with depression in the past, it usually didn't creep up this fast or suddenly. You knew very well that you were still recovering and that recovery wasn't a linear process, but a small part of you felt disappointed in yourself for feeling like this again.

Or maybe you felt comfortable like this. It was so easy, so familiar. If you were really on the way back to depression, you didn't think you had any strength left to pull you out of it again and forcing Nanami to help you made you feel selfish. It wasn't his problem that your mind was broken and your thoughts shitty.

It was all too much and your nose started burning, then your eyes watered and you didn't bother stopping the tears as they escaped. A headache had begun to form in the back of your head and you just sobbed harder.

By the time a key turned in the front door lock your face was soaked with tears and your eyes were red and puffy. You must've looked horrible, because Nanami's eyes furrowed as he walked into the room and saw you. You hadn't even hear him call out your name when he entered, too absorbed in your thoughts.

Nanami didn't bother hanging up his jacket, just dropped it to the floor and immediately made his way over to you. His hand was on your back, rubbing soothing circles into it as he tried to figure out what was wrong. First, however, he needed you to breathe.

"Darling, can you hear me?" His voice must've registered somewhere in your mind because you nodded, despite having already forgotten what he asked. "Good," he said, continuing his comforting. "I need you to breathe, dear. You remember the box breathing, right?" Another nod. "Alright. Now breathe in for four," he instructed and you tried to follow, not counting the seconds but still trying. "Hold for four," you did, "and exhale for four. Now pause for four."

It became easier after the first minute and Nanami walked you through every second of it. Once you'd gotten your breathing back under control, new tears threatened to escape at the though of how much of a burden you were. Always making him take care of you like you're a child or baby, how embarrassing.

"Don't." You looked up at your husband in confusion. "I can tell when you're thinking poorly of yourself. Don't do that. Please."

Your voice was quiet as you answered. "Okay." You pulled your legs up under the blanked and curled up into a ball.

Nanami's hand was still rubbing your back. "Can you tell me what caused this? What's going on? "

"I'm sorry. Sorry." Tears streaked down your face and Nanami's warm, big hand swiped them away carefully.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. We all have our off days. I'm sorry yours had to be today." His voice was so deep, so comforting, almost like a light to cling to while the rest of the world was trying to drown you.

"Work's just been..." You trailed off, not really wanting to think about all the things you had to do and the insane amount of paperwork that had to filed until the end of the not to mention the coworker that-

"Stressful?" His voice ripped you out of your thoughts again. "I get what that's like. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I- just don't leave. Please. I don't want to go back to feeling like I did months ago. I can't- I-" Your throat closed up just speaking about theast time your depression hit you hard.

"I'm not letting you do this alone. I promise." His hand pulled you into his body for a hug and you melted into him. "I'm here for you. Always."

"Thank you." He almost didn't hear you, you were so quiet. "Thank you so much."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen comfort #nanami kento comfort #nanami comfort #comfort #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #fluff #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk comfort #nanami fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #nanami x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader

[weirdstrangeandawful]

What is whump?

I get asked this question a lot so I figured I'd just make a post about it! I doubt a lot of people will see this since I'm a small whump blog but at least a few people will have a quick reference.

The short answer is that whump is a fictional genre of media. Like any genre, it's difficult for one person to entirely characterise but I'll do my best.

Whump is a fictional genre focused on the experience of pain. This can be physical pain or emotional pain. The pain could be acute or chronic. The focus could be on the recovery from the pain or on the pain itself. It's a super versatile genre!

Some frequently asked questions:

Okay, but how is this different from hurt/comfort?

This is a complicated question (hard to entirely characterise an entire genre, eh?) and it really depends on the writer. For me, hurt/comfort is a subset of whump where the comfort is required whilst whump is the larger, overarching genre where comfort is not an absolute necessity, but many others have different opinions!

What is a whumpee?

You'll often hear writers (especially prompt writers) in the whump community refer to characters as 'whumpee', 'whumper', and 'caretaker'. These are placeholder names like your good old A, B, and C. 'Whumpee' refers to the character experiencing the pain (literally 'the one being whumped'); 'whumper' is the (optional) character causing or contributing to the pain; and 'caretaker' is the (also optional) character helping care for the whumpee and alleviating the pain.

Why would I support someone who thinks people should experience pain?

Pain and adversity are facts of life. In fact, many of us as whump writers and readers engage with the genre to cope with pain and adversity in our real lives. It's important to remember that whump is a fictional genre and someone's interest in the fictional themes portrayed really aren't a reflection of what goes on in their real life. The name 'whump' may be contemporary but this is definitely not a contemporary genre (Shakespearean tragedies anyone?) so there is no use criticising its existence. If you don't like it, that's okay! Scroll on by and block the #whump tag if you need to. Like many artists, we're an accepting community and won't judge. In fact, we probably understand better than most that there is too much pain in the world and not everyone wants to read about more of it.

What's the difference between whump and BSDM/kink?

This is a complicated and very individualised answer. The oversimplified answer is that BDSM and kink are explicitly sexual/sensual whilst whump is not necessarily related to sex. But that is extremely oversimplified and doesn't cover all or even most people's experiences with either whump or BDSM/kink. The most generalised answer I can give is that whump is an overarching genre whilst BDSM and kink are individualised cultural practices and activites. But even that needs nuance and context to understand and apply. For me personally, I don't like combining the two because I experience them in very different ways, but that's just my experience!

Edit: I realise that I was not clear in the above answer. BDSM and kink are absolutely not inherently sexual at all. In my personal experience, I've found there to be a lot more overlap between BDSM/kink and sexual experiences than with whump but this is not true for many and maybe most people. No one person is qualified to answer this question.

#whump #whump community #what is whump #informational post #frequently asked questions

[utilitycaster]

Level Up Post: Mighty Nein: Echoes of the Solstice: The Speculation Version

DO NOT POST SPOILERS ON THIS IF YOU ARE AT THE LIVE SHOW IN PERSON. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

So here's the deal: I don't know what level they'll be (18-20), I am frankly assuming they level up in the first place (but like. why wouldn't they) and I'm going to have to make a bunch of assumptions, but here is a manageable-ish, I hope, summary, to be refined once we know more. Also: I'm assuming we've got Caduceus rather than Kingsley (I DO NOT KNOW THIS FOR SURE DO NOT RELY ON THIS BEING THE TRUTH) but I will make a Kingsley post if that is not the case (short answer - I'd recommend solely leveling up in blood hunter). As always with level-ups: if there is a significant omission or an error, please let me know. If I simply did not choose the same spell or feat you did, feel free to reply with "ooh nice, what about [spell]" but do not send me asks or get weird and sanctimonious about having different thoughts on subjective assessments. Anyway, here's the pre-show version; I'll make a new post Friday if appropriate.

Fjord: Let's get Mr. Complicated Tusktooth Stone Lavorre out of the way. He is currently Warlock 12/Paladin 5. Warlocks get a mystic arcanum at level 13 (7th level spell once per day) as well as another known spell for regular casting, a subclass feature at 14 (Master of Hexes for Fjord, which allows him to move his hexblade's curse from creature to creature if the first dies), and a mystic arcanum (8th level) and another invocation and another spell at 15. Paladins, meanwhile, get Aura of Protection (+CHA mod, so 5, to all saving throws to himself and all allies within 10 feet) at level 6, a subclass feature at 7 (Aura of Liberation - he and allies within 10 feet cannot be grappled or restrained, can use 5 feet of movement to get out of prior restraints [THIS WOULD HELP BEAU IF SHE SHOWS UP CHAINED BTW], and ignore penalties to underwater attacks) as well as another L2 spell slot, and an ASI at 8; his lay on hands pool also scales up by 5 HP per level. My personal feeling is: for the next level, take paladin level 6, which gives him and anyone within the aura +5 to all saves so long as he is not incapacitated; paladin auras are ridiculously good and every day I wish someone would play paladin straight through in CR, for me, much as I adore Fjord and Vax's dips into it. For his 19th level, I'd either take paladin 7 for the aura of liberation, or take warlock 13, which grants the mystic arcanum of which I'd take Etherealness, probably, or possibly Forcecage; the clerics can handle Plane Shift, and Finger of Death seems off-brand. He also gets another regular spell of which there are many; Contact Other Plane might not work under these conditions so I'm leaning towards Dream, which is just a great weird spell few people take, but also he could take a low level spell given he has paladin spell slots. And for 20th, take the one he didn't take for 19, for a final 13 Warlock/7 Paladin split.

Beau: Much more straightforward in comparison...but let's talk about the leveling up process. Level 18 grants Empty Body, in which she can spend 4 ki to be invisible for 1 minute and resistant to all damage other than force damage, or she can spend 8 ki to cast astral projection on herself alone, which is just hilarious and great and I would like to see it. She also increases her speed to 60 feet. Level 19 is an ASI/Feat; her stats are great so I say take Mobile because it's funny to make her normal speed 70 feet/round, or mage slayer for obvious narrative and "Beau, don't you want to pull a Cerrit on Ludinus" reasons. The capstone monk level kind of sucks (4 ki points back if she's tapped when rolling for initiative) but I don't have a good multiclass for her in mind so may as well ride it out. And of course she gets a ki point per level.

Caleb: Perhaps the only person for whom level 18 is actually fun (other than the multiclassed characters), at level 18 he gets to pick a 1st and 2nd level wizard spell in his spell book that he can cast at will. He can exchange these, but it requires 8 hours of study, so probably what he has going in to this show is what he has for the show. 19 is again a Feat/ASI, and honestly a con or dex boost never hurts a wizard. Level 20 gives him two 3rd level spells in his spellbook that he can cast once per rest (long or short) without using a spell slot. Might I suggest counterspell as one of them? And both he and the clerics gain extra high level spell slots at each level (5th, 6th, and 7th at levels 18, 19, and 20 respectively).

Veth: So she is actually trickier than Fjord, as the multiclassed character, in that I'm less sure how to split it out, but we'll go through the options: Level 17 in rogue grants her the ability to temporarily steal spells from another spellcaster who attacks her (Spell Thief) which is GREAT and she should definitely take it. Level 18 is Elusive; as long as she is not incapacitated, attack rolls cannot have advantage on her. And Level 19 is an ASI/Feat and an increase in sneak attack dice and also grants her a fourth level spell slot and new spell to go with it, which must be enchantment or illusion; Greater Invisibility seems like the obvious choice. I'd take the ASI to INT. On the other hand, if she pursues more wizard levels, Level 2 would give her a subclass and its features and another 1st level spell slot (and 2 more spells), Level 3 would give her 2nd level wizard spells and corresponding spell slots (and again, 2 more spells in her spellbook), and Level 4 is an ASI/Feat, a cantrip, and another 2nd level spell slot. I say take L17 in rogue first, then get a wizard subclass (transmutation does seem obvious for a number of reasons though abjuration, illusion, and divination have better L2 features and illusion makes narrative sense - divination would simply be hilarious), then take her final level in rogue for Elusive; but with both Veth and Fjord I think there's an obvious level to take (L17 rogue for Veth, L6 paladin for Fjord) and after that I respect Sam and Travis to pick what feels right.

Jester and Caduceus: At level 18, they can channel divinity 3 times per rest rather than 2. At level 19, they take ASIs, which honestly are up in the air for me - I'm excited to see what they pick, though @captainofthetidesbreath suggested Eldritch Adept for Jester which I would enjoy, and we haven't seen Caduceus's feat from the final episode yet which means I'm not sure about what he might take as a new one, though I'm personally always a fan of Chef. And at L20 divine intervention is guaranteed (though you can only use it once per week)...but to be honest if they are level 20, I am expecting this to be nerfed for solstice reasons because it is kind of game-breaking.

Yasha: So here's the thing. Barbarian 18-19 is kind of eh and 20 is good but not amazing. She could take it; she'd get indomitable might at 18 (treat any strength check as her strength score, 18, if she rolls lower than that), an ASI/Feat at 19, and her strength and con jump up by 4 each (and can exceed 20) - this would put her at 18 CON and 22 STR, assuming she doesn't increase either with the ASI (and to be fair I would take the ASI to strength). This is solid and entirely valid as a choice. HOWEVER, might I suggest the Grog move of taking her final three levels in fighter, which would give her a fighting style and second wind at L1, action surge at L2, and an archetype and its 3rd level features at L3. I like how Battle Master feels for Yasha but really it's that action surge that makes this great; Rune Knight or Champion are also decent options.

#mighty nein #critical role #echoes of the solstice

[starry-nights-garden]

K ✧ Too Tall

✧ &Team K x gn!reader ✧ words: ~900 ✧ genre: fluff, humor (reader is a bit shy, reader is significantly shorter than him) ✧ warnings: none

Desc.: You're mad at your boyfriend for being too tall to give him surprise kisses.

"You're too tall."

"Huh?" Your boyfriend, caught completely off guard by your comment, turns around to give you a highly confused look. And then as soon as he sees your offended expression, a soft laugh escapes him. With a jerk of his eyebrow he walks over to you from the other side of the living room, fists placed on his sides, and as he puffs out his chest he asks, "Why? Cause you can't reach me?"

"Yeah..." you grumble a response, slightly annoyed with his demeanor, but when he shows you a boyish grin next second, you just don't find it in you to stay upset.

"That's too bad..." Yudai says, now capturing his own chin between his thumb and index finger of one hand, as if he was seriously pondering on the matter. You know he's not. You know he's messing with you like he so often does, and you know it's no more than playful banter. Still, as you glance up at his face that's just out of reach, you feel frustrated again.

"Forget it..." you mutter eventually, turning on your heels in order to walk away. "This is stupid anyway."

"What is?" Your boyfriend is quick to respond, and when you've taken a few steps in the opposite direction you bite your lip, deciding to gather the courage to say it anyway.

"Just... you're tall so it's... complicated..."

"What?" you hear Yudai snort behind you, not quite following you.

"Your height!" 

"I got that, yeah."

"Like..." You turn back around, the flustered expression on your face making him raise his eyebrows. It's clear he can't accurately estimate the seriousness of the situation, and as he tenses up slightly, straightening his back you remind yourself to relax. "Like... you know... when you just steal a kiss from me or stuff like that..."

"Yeah?" Another short laugh escapes him, and he raises the corners of his mouth into a lopsided grin.

"I can't do that to you whenever I want... and that's..."

"Too bad?" he finishes your sentence.

"Annoying," you correct him. 

"...that's it?" he then asks. "That's what you got so worked up over?"

"Yeah..." you quietly respond, avoiding to look him in the eye because you find that you are highly embarrassed over being upset because of such an insignificant thing after all. However, Yudai walks over to you, and when he's standing right in front of you he leans down so he's now on eye level with you. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he starts talking again.

"Then we're just gonna have to make up some sort of signal for when you need me to lean in real quick so you can kiss me." Your face heating up at his ridiculous suggestion, you stutter an answer,

"Th-that's stupid!" And while keeping your voice down, you add, somewhat shyly, "Also it's not gonna be a surprise like that..."

"I'll act surprised?" he retorts.

"That's not the same!"

"Try it! I can make it seem very realistic - I'm a good actor!" Yudai insists.

"But-"

"Are you trying to tell me you're questioning my acting skills?"

"It's not satisfying if you're acting! Forget it..."

"Y/N..." he calls out your name as he's standing up straight again. "I think you're failing to consider one option here..."

"Wh-what?" you stammer, your embarrassment about to take you out right then and there. "Can we just end this already? I know it's stupid..."

"It's not stupid... come here." You watch as your boyfriends pulls over one of the chairs by the dinner table, patting it once to signal to you what he wants. Slightly confused, you take a step towards him, and with him holding your hand for support, he assists you in stepping up onto the chair. Once you're in position, now significantly taller than your boyfriend, he places his other hand onto your waist so as to steady you.

"So...?" you ask, still not being able to connect the dots and figure out what the point of all this is. And then, catching you completely off guard, Yudai lets go of your hand, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt instead and pulling you down towards him, his lips smashing against yours somewhat ungently. Your heart skips a beat at his action, and you grab onto his wrist instinctively as he kisses you. Quite in contrast to the initial impact, his lips are moving against yours at a slow pace. There's the faint taste of vanilla from the chapstick he uses these days, mixed in with the sweetness of his warm kiss, and when he finally releases you, you both have to catch your breath for a few moments.

"This," he says, barely an inch apart from you. "You can always do that when you wanna surprise me with a kiss."

"Right..." You words are merely coming out as a whisper. "I didn't... think of that..."

"And besides..." your boyfriend adds, "that's gonna make my heart race like crazy." You nod, telling yourself to remember that piece of information properly, but when he closes the distance between you two again your train of thought is cut off instantly. His lips melting against yours leaves you unable to think, and so you simply wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers of one hand combing through the short hair at the back of his neck as he continues kissing you.

#&team scenarios #&team fluff #andteam fluff #andteam scenarios #&team drabbles #andteam x reader #andteam drabbles #andteam imagines #&team imagines #&team x reader #k x reader #k fluff #koga yudai x reader #fluff