#and who took road trips through woods like these every year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hier--soir · 10 months

Note

okay hear me out…

joel and reader find their way back to Joel’s old house in Texas somehow. the angst. the drama. the COMFORT FROM READER TO JOEL MY HEART.

you’re breaking my heart here, kelp. this one hurt. i’m sorry it took me nothing short of a century to write, but i hope you enjoy this in some kind of way.

warnings/tags: set after tlou pt one timeline, established relationship, angst, grief, mentions of the death of a child, panic attack, hurt/comfort, the real birthday card sarah wrote joel from tlou game brb bawling. wc: 2.6k

Joel’s home in Texas sat at the end of a cul-de-sac.

The houses on the street were run down after decades of rain and sun making the wood deteriorate. The bodies of the buildings sagged as if they’d exhaled a breath one day, and never inhaled another. Your eyes wandered over them as you rode past, trying to imagine what the street had looked like all those years ago when Joel had lived there. Did your best to picture him cruising down the road in his truck, young and carefree, listening to the radio as he drove home from work. The idea made a small smile drift across your face, but it faded as you glanced back to him. He rode a few paces ahead of you, and his broad shoulders were tense, hinting that he was gripping the reins of his horse for dear life.

The pair of you had been travelling for something like a month, all the way from Wyoming, to reach this point. And for most of the trip, he’d remained the Joel you knew and loved. Quiet, and funny, with the warmest smile. But as you’d neared Texas state lines, he’d withdrawn. Started to shut you out; talking less and seldom laughing at your jokes. You knew it was hard for him, to return after so much time, and so you didn’t push him. But that didn’t mean your heart didn’t pang nervously as he pulled his horse to a halt outside of a house.

Closure, Tommy had called it.

“You gotta go back, Joel,” he’d said one night at the dining hall in Jackson. “Even if it’s just once. You owe it to yourself.”

It had taken months to convince his older brother. After three years living in Jackson, Joel had become so comfortable in his new life. He had come so far from being the man you’d heard stories about when he and Ellie first arrived in the settlement.

He’s dangerous, people would whisper. He’s killed people.

And at first, you’d feared him alongside the rest of your community. Until he wormed his way into your heart, and shared himself with you. Yes, he was dangerous, and yes, he had killed, that much you were aware of. But in time, he confided in you. Things about his past that he’d never been able to verbalise to anyone, whispered in your ear while hidden under the sheets of his bed. He trusted you, and you trusted him. And so when Tommy finally wore him down enough that he agreed to go back to Texas, he said he’d only go if you went with him.

“Just to see it,” Joel had said adamantly on the day you left Jackson, as the pair of you saddled your horses. “It’ll be nice just to see it.”

“Long way to go just to see it,” you’d said quietly, stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling. You knew what lay within his house in Texas. Knew what memories resided there, festering inside the walls. The ghosts of who he once was, of the life he was supposed to live. The memory of… her. The daughter he’d lost.

He talked about her more and more, the longer you knew him. Shared stories, confessed to you when things reminded him of her, and the way it made him feel. He dreamt about her often. A few mornings out of every month he would wake with a thin sheen of sweat on his face, muscles tense as he cried out for her, begged her to stay. And you would soothe him, brush the hair off his forehead and hold him, lulling him back to sleep with soft words in his ear and gentle kisses against his hairline.

Standing outside of the house, the thought flitted through your mind once more. Your eyes darted warily between the old property and him. Staring at the profile of his face, you tried to discern an emotion; tried to gage any hint of feeling there. But Joel’s face was blank, forehead smooth, mouth a thin line, as he tied the horses up.

Without a word, he was walking up the driveway toward the front door. Pulse quickening, you trailed behind on numb legs, hand gripping the gun holstered on your hip. If you hoped for anything, it was that infected weren’t holed up inside the house you’d travelled so far to see.

The front door gave way easily under his weight, and a cloud of dust exploded around the pair of you as you stepped past the threshold. And it was… a house. No, a home. No sounds came from within, no rustling or footsteps or clicking. It seemed uninhabited. Safe. You stood behind Joel, waiting for his signal.

Joel cleared his throat, peering around with a tense jaw. “Look around. See if we can find anything useful to take back with us.” You noticed he didn’t refer to Jackson as home.

He wandered slowly through the lower level of the house, not touching anything at first, as if he were hesitant to lay his hands over the things that had once been his possessions. You watched him silently, carefully, allowing him to take the lead. And when he ducked through a set of double doors into a different room, you couldn’t help but analyse the space, how things had been left, all those years ago.

The place was clearly well-lived in. A few plates and bowls rested in the sink, a mug on the counter. A DVD rested on a coffee table by the couch, some 80s action flick with two guys on the cover. Curtis and Viper 2, it read in bold red lettering, This time it’s a family affair. You smiled curiously but didn’t pick it up to read the back.

Rustling came from the doors Joel was behind, and you figured you should start looking around as well. You padded heavily up the stairs, dush and grime loosing into the air as your boots worked against the old carpet. The landing was large, and you could see a few doorways from where you stood. Peeking through the first one, you saw a large bed, a TV mounted on the wall, and a treadmill. You huffed quietly, trying to picture a world in which Joel would run on a machine while watching television. The image was difficult to conjure.

“Y’find anything?” Joel’s gruff voice carried up the stairs.

“Not yet,” you hollered.

“Check the bathroom,” he called. “Might be some painkillers in there. Old antibiotics maybe.”

“On it.”

You moved further down the hall, nudging your boot against a closed door before peering in.

Posters covered the walls, dusty and faded from years of sunlight shining in the window. A double bed with blueish green covers, two sets of drawers. And pictures… so many pictures, tacked against the pink walls, depicting smiling, happy faces. Some that you’d come to know well, and one that you’d never seen before.

Stepping further into the room, you stared at the photograph stuck above her bedhead. It was of Tommy and Joel, with a small girl tucked underneath his arm, her arms wrapped around his middle as she beamed at the camera. Sarah. You swallowed down the ball of emotion that had settled in your throat.

“Found some scissors and tape,” Joel hollered, and you gave a half-hearted shout of acknowledgement in return.

Your lungs tightened, and suddenly your breathing was shorter, the knowledge that you were standing in his daughter’s room almost suffocating you. You turned quickly, with every intention of leaving the room, until something on the dresser opposite her bed caught your eye.

A small, faded card. White paper that had yellowed and faded over the years, that had a cartoon drawing of a dinosaur wearing a party hat across the front. The word ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’ was scrawled in red print below it.

Your fingers ghosted across the paper, feeling the thinness of it; the delicate fragility of something that hadn’t been touched by another human being in over twenty years. Careful not to cause any damage, you opened it. Your eyes turned blurry as they trailed over the words scribbled on the card.

Dear Dad, Let’s see… you’re never around, you hate the music I’m into, you practically despise the movies I like, and yet somehow you still manage to be the best dad every year. How do you do that? Happy Birthday, Pops! Sarah.

A tear rolled off your chin and landed on your shirt, leaving a dark stain. You sniffled sharply, wiping the wet sensation from your face. The flimsy paper shook in your grip, and you found yourself anxious that it would disintegrate at any moment.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Joel’s voice was steely, low. You flinched, the card tumbling out of your hand and back onto the chest. Your partner loomed tall in the doorway, staring you down. His face was thunderous, expression a mask of fury that you’d never expected to have directed at you, in this lifetime or the next. Dark eyes glared at you, as his mouth twisted into a snarl, lip curled up to reveal gritted teeth.

“Joel,” you breathed, wiping furiously at your cheeks again to remove any sign that you’d been crying. “I’m sorry, I was jus-“

“Why are you touching her things?”

You noticed his eyes never moved off you. He didn’t dare look around the room, her room. “I’m sorry,” you repeated feebly. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

He diverted his gaze, staring down at what you had dropped.

“What is that?” he asked. His voice was quieter, softer. It was like every one of his features pinched together in the middle of his face, and he took a slow step into the room.

“It’s a card,” you told him, slowly reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. He met your gaze, silently asking you to tell him more without him having to ask. “The birthday card she wrote for you. I’m sorry, I know it’s personal and I shouldn’t ha—”

“She never gave me a birthday card that year.”

“What?”

“No card. Just the watch.”

Your eyesight blurred as you stared at him. He moved slowly, as if he had to beg his limbs to work and even then, they dragged along the ground. When he picked it up, the card looked so small in his large hands. Long, dirt-stained fingers gripped the withered paper, splaying it open so he could read it.

And for a moment, everything was still. No movement, no sound, nothing could interrupt the way his eyes danced along the messy handwriting, devouring every letter. A few minutes passed, and you realised he was reading it over and over again. His chest began to rise and fall faster, as short sharps breaths rattled in and out of his lungs.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice hoarse with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you shook your head and took a hesitant step towards him, but you were too slow.

His knees buckled, and he dropped onto the carpet with a heavy thud. You cursed, crouching beside him to get a better look at his face. Silent tears streamed from his eyes, rolling down the hills of his cheekbones before disappearing into his beard. His chapped lips quivered as he silently mouthed the words written on the card, not meeting your eye. You placed a hand on his back and stifled the sound of despair that worked its way up your throat.

“Joe—”

“My baby girl,” he choked out, finally looking at you.

“I know,” you hushed desperately, rubbing soft circles on his back. “I know.”

“N-never saw this,” Joel grunted. It seemed painful for him to speak, and his left hand reached up to press against his chest. Fear spiked inside you, and your hand tightened on his back. “She never—” he paused, upper body swaying.

His mouth was downturned, low breathy sobs escaping his lips as he tried to regain control of his body. But it was out of his control, and you could see the fear crawling under his skin as memories of Sarah wormed through his brain, and twisted his insides.

“I know,” you repeated gently. “I need you to breathe, Joel. Can you hear me?” he nodded faintly, fingertips crinkling the corner of the card where he held it. “Need you to breathe with me now. Slowly, in and out, like this. Don’t go passing out on me.”

He shook his head quickly, but copied the sound of your exaggerated breaths, sucking in air before expelling it heavily. “My girl,” he muttered, and you nodded, kissing his shoulder quickly. “I failed her, I—"

“No,” you said sharply, and finally he looked at you. Bloodshot, grief-stricken eyes stared at you as you shook your head. “You did everything you could. She said it herself, you’re the best dad. She loves you so much, Joel, I can feel it.” His chest shook, and he was silent, breathing heavily as he absorbed your words. You rested your hand atop the one on his chest, slotting your fingers in-between his. His heartbeat thudded aggressively against his sternum, vibrating against your hands.

He squeezed your fingers painfully tight, closing his eyes. “I wish I could just—” he gasped quietly, voice rattling. “Wish I could see her, need to see her.”

You dropped to your knees, pressing your back against his shoulder and cradling him in your arms as he shook. You pressed your hand firmer against his.

“Right here,” you whispered. “This is where it is – her love for you. She’s here, every single day, every second, you just have to let yourself feel it.”

“I don’t know how,” he said desperately. You soothed him quietly, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he leant heavier against you. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” you murmured against his hair, feeling the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. “I’m here, let me help you.”

For a while, the pair of you stayed like that. Resting on the carpet in his daughter’s bedroom, leaning against each other’s as a thick silence blanketed you.

You didn’t move a muscle until he said he wanted to leave, and watched him pack the things he’d found into a bag, keenly aware of the way he slid the card between the pages of a thick book and tucked it into the bag as well, careful not to crease it.

Joel was quiet as you left the house, quiet as you untied the horses. Quiet as he rode down the street, with you a few paces behind, heading away from the cul-de-sac, the broken-down houses, Curtis and Viper 2, and the pictures on Sarah’s bedroom wall. For a few days, he didn’t say much at all, and most nights on the trip back to Jackson, as the pair of you settled in your sleeping bags to rest, he would look. He would wait until he thought you were asleep, and then you’d hear him take the book out of his bag, flipping through the pages until he found the birthday card, so he could read her words once more.

And you weren’t naïve. You knew that a part of him would forever be broken, after Sarah’s death. A hole in his heart that nothing and no one could mend – not a second daughter, nor a relationship. But so long as you lived, you knew you would be there, right behind him. To hold him and remind him to feel that love; to breathe it in, to savour Sarah’s love and kindness in his heart, in the hopes that remembering the light would help shut out a little of the darkness.

#joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller fanfiction #my writing #back to texas #request

319 notes · View notes

prince-liest · 9 months

Text

inspired by a series of convos in the 3zun server and also my own recent camping trip:

please imagine mundane modern au nieyao going camping

meng yao is like twenty-three, freshly graduated from college after having to take a gap year to take care of his ailing mother. nie mingjue is in his thirties, and knows meng yao as the responsible young man who befriended his brother and is probably one of the driving forces preventing nie huaisang from having skipped too many classes to actually earn a degree. he's not technically meng yao's boss, but he works in the same organization and he thinks it's perfectly acceptable to mosey on over to meng yao's actual boss during the interview process and give them a stellar review of what he knows of meng yao's work ethic.

the fact that meng yao eventually (read: very rapidly) gets promoted to work at nie mingjue's right hand is... probably fine. it's not too strange. in fact, they're friends! good friends! good enough friends that when nie huaisang finally puts his foot down and downright refuses to go on the nie annual camping trip, citing that he is a "real" adult now (whatever that means) and that means he doesn't have to spend a week in the woods every year getting bitten by mosquitos and hunting down the nearest wifi connection if he doesn't want to, da-ge, maybe it'd be cute for taking photos if they just went for the weekend - well, then nie mingjue retorts that he doesn't see the point in driving all the way out to yosemite for a single weekend and invites meng yao instead.

meng yao, on the other hand, is thinking: hm. he is pretty sure he has seen this porno. a week out in the woods with his hot older boss who is also his best friend's big brother. you couldn't fit more tropes into it if you tried. maybe if there were debt collectors after him and nie mingjue was a mafia boss.

(there are no debt collectors. meng yao has made certain of it. he has been very financially responsible in the aftermath of his mother's passing.)

nie mingjue is a responsible hiker and at least somewhat aware that he's taking somebody with no experience on a camping trip, largely courtesy of nie huaisang. meng yao ends up dressed mostly in nie huaisang's unused hiking clothes, packing his things in nie huaisang's unused hiking backpack, and sleeping in nie huaisang's unused sleeping bag. he looks up the price of the socks that nie mingjue handed him and then decides not to look up any more for the sake of his emotional wellbeing.

they make it to yosemite. meng yao has looked up all the things to do in yosemite valley, but for some reason they end up driving way farther north through some winding mountain roads that make him wonder if the car is just going to... tip over the side and neither of them will ever be seen again. for some reason there's a random porta-potty around one of the bends that meng yao silently stares at as they pass. it takes several hours to arrive, but there's a surprising amount of gas left over in the car for how much time the trip took.

the camp grounds are a little...

"isn't this a little crowded?" meng yao asks. "why don't we go farther into the woods?"

nie mingjue looks at him like he's the strange one. this is how meng yao learns that you cannot camp just anywhere inside of a national park. apparently it's okay, because most people are respectful of the common spaces. also, there is no shower in this specific camp. nie mingjue brought wet wipes.

these are not the ideal circumstances for fucking in the woods, but meng yao is a trooper and he understands that sometimes reality is a little more complicated than not safe for work media.

it's fine. besides, they get there pretty early in the day, all-considered. and it's spring, so it's still cool enough to go hiking at midday. a waterfall sounds pretty romantic, he thinks, watching nie mingjue work some kind of eldritch magic with tent poles while taking mental notes so that he can prove himself competent should he ever need to set up a tent again in his life.

an hour and a half later, meng yao is soaked through with sweat and half-convinced that he's developed adult-onset asthma. nie mingjue is glistening attractively. for some reason the incline of the 'easy' hike to a nearby waterfall that they're on suddenly turned into a rock climbing challenge in the last quarter mile. the worst part about going down it is knowing that he will have to go back up on the way back. there aren't that many people around, but if nie mingjue is taking him here to fuck him, then meng yao is going to simply have to throw himself into the river rapids and drown. it would be a kinder form of death.

they get to the waterfall. it is spring, so the river is flowing so strongly with icemelt that it's too dangerous to truly swim. meng yao considers at least dipping in, but when he puts his feet in, the water is so cold that he decides that he likes having physical sensation above his ankles, thank you. nie mingjue smiles proudly at him and tells him that nie huaisang usually complains up a storm by this point and that he loves his brother but it's nice to be with a more appreciative partner. something in meng yao's chest squeezes a little bit.

it gets a little tighter when he realizes that he's finished all of his water and nie mingjue crouches down to show him how to use the iodine water tablets on the river water. they make the water taste strange, but meng yao is mostly distracted by the fact that nie mingjue's mouth was just on the lip of the water bottle that he's about to drink from.

he drinks, tilting his head back. his hands are shaky with exhaustion and some of the water spills. it's cool on his chin and throat and he doesn't bother brushing it away - he's so sweaty that it's probably impossible to discern what's sweat and what's water anyway. when he opens his eyes again, nie mingjue is watching him.

they hike back. by the time they arrive at camp, meng yao's legs have entirely turned into jelly and nie mingjue takes pity on him, sitting him down in a camping chair with a beer and going off to pick up dry wood ("why would I buy firewood when deadwood is free?"). he teaches meng yao how to start a campfire, stacking small twigs in increasingly larger sizes until there's enough kindling to set the big logs ablaze. meng yao finds himself shivering in the dark, pressed up against nie mingjue's side and leaning towards the flames. funny, how he thought he would never feel cooled down again just an hour ago. his face burns, and his back is only cold until nie mingjue offers him a blanket.

they absolutely do not fuck that night, nor any other night. but meng yao has fun: he hasn't felt so free to learn and mess up and explore since he was a kid, and the absolute newfound freedom that he experiences when he once asks if they could go look at something off a path and nie mingjue says yes - says, in fact, that the whole point of going off into the woods like this is being able to do and see whatever you want, as long as it's within legal boundaries - means meng yao basically forgets his initial plan entirely.

they nearly get lost on their next hike, missing a turn in the established path and only turning around when they reach what could best be described as a ravine. there are more waterfalls - meng yao didn't know there were this many waterfalls anywhere in the world. they move campgrounds a few times, too. apparently it's quite difficult to get seven straight days booked in a yosemite campground. meng yao sets up the tent the second time. some of the campgrounds have showers, wooden buildings with cool water and moths fluttering around the lights. the most delicious meal meng yao swears he's ever eaten is the cheese-filled sausages nie mingjue roasts over a campfire, combined with cup noodles that they cook using water from the same camping stove tea kettle they use for their tea in the mornings.

eventually, it is time to go home. meng yao hasn't washed his hair in two days and doesn't remember the last time he heard the ping of his phone demanding that he put out yet another fire at work. he'd been asked to keep his phone on and check his email when he can during his vacation, but most of the places they've been don't actually have service.

they drive back through the same mountains as before. the porta potty is still there. meng yao actually points out its strangeness this time, and nie mingjue laughs. meng yao smiles. he's been smiling a lot during this trip. he feels vaguely like a new person. it's fresh air and endorphins, nie mingjue says. good for the soul. meng yao is pretty sure it's nie witchcraft, too.

(or maybe it's endorphins. he certainly gets a hot flood of those when, dropping off meng yao at his doorstep, nie mingjue finally hesitates - and steps close, mumbling, "didn't wanna make you uncomfortable while you were trapped in the woods with me, but..." before kissing him. his hands are so big on meng yao's hips.)

(they do fuck that night. but not before meng yao drags both of them into his shower and scrubs himself from top to bottom. yosemite was great, but he has standards.)

#mdzs #the untamed #nieyao #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #my writing #long post #disclaimer: I love camping. i am nie mingjue in this scenario. LMFAO #my last birthday I literally fucked off into the woods on my own for a weekend with my own and it was glorious #I still don't know what that porta potty was doing in the middle of the barren mountainside but whatever it was appreciated #also ik my is normally more of a planner but please imagine in this situation he trusted nmj to have it all taken care of #this turned out mostly kinda sweet camping vibes #and also cured my writing bug so I am satisfied #storytelling post

139 notes · View notes

imagine-you · 1 year

Text

every lover's got a little dagger in their hand (2/?) [joel miller/reader]

Summary: You find Joel at Cumberland Farms in the midst of his quest to save the human race. "You had so many questions you wanted to ask Joel. Where did he get a kid from? Where was Tess? Was he on a job? If so, then why the kid? Did he feel anything when he looked at you?" Word Count: 3.9k Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who supported part one. This wouldn't have continued without y'all. Title from Love From the Other Side by Fall Out Boy.

part one

The trip to Lincoln was supposed to be relatively short compared to most of the trips you were used to taking. The painfully awkward silence made it feel like it was several days long and not the hour it took to trek out there.

You kept shooting small glances at Joel, wondering if he was regretting his decision to let you tag along. Joel seemed to purposefully keep his eyes forward, not even bothering to acknowledge you. There was a set to his jaw as he walked, and you knew something must have happened, because he looked like he had something on his mind that he would rather forget.

"So," Ellie started, falling back to walk at your side. "When'd you meet Joel? You don't look that old," she observed, looking you up and down.

"We've got a few years between us," you admitted, shooting her an unimpressed look at her scoff. "What?"

"It's more than that," she said, pulling her knife out of her jacket pocket. She started trying to flip it over and over in her hand, fumbling it every so often.

"Yeah, well, I don't think a kid should be hearing about that," you pointed out. You knew you could keep the conversation PG enough to give Ellie the gist of your relationship with Joel, but not while Joel could overhear. What if he heard the love you still carried for him in your voice? What if he disagreed with you? What if he never thought you actually had a relationship and instead considered it a series of flings? What if he didn't think it was worth mentioning at all? You didn't want to find out the answer to any of those questions, so you decided to go the easy route and bow out.

"Alright, well, I'm about to start eating my hair out of boredom," Ellie told you, briefly pointing her knife at you. "So, give me something here. Like you said that infected at Cumberland was put there by you. How'd you manage that?"

You noticed Joel glance briefly at you, a quick there-and-gone-again look, as if he was also interested to know how you trapped an infected in the cellar.

"Well," you started, aimlessly kicking at a rock. "It almost cost me my life," you reminded her, ignoring another brief look from Joel.

---

You weren't sure how this job had gone so sideways so fast. It should have been a simple pick-up-and-trade, but you faced an obstacle at every turn. It was one of the first times you began to regret your choice of not having a designated partner for your runs. First, FEDRA blocked the road you would have taken, searching for something which you hoped wasn't you. Next, your contact failed to show up, which meant the whole run was a bust. Then, you had the bright idea that you were so close to Boston, you might as well visit Tess.

Even you weren't really kidding yourself. Visiting Tess meant visiting Joel and that was really what you wanted after all the bullshit you had gone through. You wanted to drop by Cumberland Farms to stow away the goods you had meant to trade, so you wouldn't risk losing them if you were attacked or came across FEDRA.

You were less than a mile out when you made a near-fatal error.

You saw one infected stumbling along in the woods. It wasn't far away from you, so you resolved to take care of it as quietly as you could. Your mistake was assuming it was alone. That one infected turned out to be five infected, and they all came running at you.

You got off one shot, two, before you realized that you would simply have to run. You thought you could get to Cumberland and hold them off from there. You didn't count on the sixth infected to run at you from the side, tackling you into the dirt. You felt something scrape your side, your hand sliding over a sharp, jagged rock.

The blood only made them more frenzied, eager to get to you. Your ankle felt like it was on fire, but you couldn't care. You had to run, escape, because if you became one of them, then you ultimately lost.

You managed to take down the one that tackled you before pushing to your feet. You ignored the pain, counting on the adrenaline to carry you through. Every moment felt drawn out and weighted, but it was simply a passing second where you had to make the right choice or die.

You didn't dare look over your shoulder as you ran. You kept your eyes forward, avoiding roots and debris that would trip you. You felt like there was a knife in your side, each breath in painful and sharp. Your ankle threatened to buckle under you and your hand was bleeding, stinging little zings of pain reminding you that you were wounded.

You were trying not to panic, but you could feel desperation to survive clawing at you. This might be it, you couldn't help but think. This might be the last moment you were alive. The last moment you were truly human. You tried to push those thoughts aside and just focus on moving forward, ignoring the pain and fear fighting for your attention.

You could just see Cumberland Farms up ahead when you started to finally allow yourself to think that you weren't going to make it. Five infected all on your trail while you hobbled along, injured and bleeding? No chance.

You were going to have to do something crazy, you resolved. Something that might take you down with it, but at least you weren't going to leave this world infected with Cordyceps. That was all you really cared about at the moment.

For a fleeting second, you thought of Joel and how much he would disapprove of your plan. Maybe he would mourn your death and maybe he would be glad to be rid of you. You didn't know. You had no clue. Which just about summed up your whole relationship with Joel. Confusing and uncertain and leaving you clueless.

You only had a few seconds to enact your plan, knowing that if you slowed down at all, you would be swarmed by the infected. You rounded the back of Cumberland Farms, letting out a cry of pain when you stretched an arm back, grasping for the weapon you kept lodged in the side pocket of your bag. You finally wrapped your fingers around it, allowing yourself one moment of relief.

You drew to a stop once you hit the back of the store, fumbling with the door for a moment before pushing inside. In a perfect world, you wouldn't need the weapon in your hand at all. You could get to the cellar and lock yourself in, regroup, and then deal with the infected once you weren't about to pass out from the pain.

You got the cellar door open before it all fell to shit again.

You assumed the infected would follow you around the building and through the back, but one of them surprised you, running in from the front. You had barely enough strength to push it away towards the back of the room before you brought the weapon in your hand up. You pulled the pin on the grenade and launched it into the group of infected at the back of the store, attempting to shield yourself from the oncoming blast.

The grenade detonated quicker than you thought it would, taking care of the infected for you. You didn't count on being so close to it when it went off, though, and you were launched backwards, through the cellar door. You were weightless, floating, for one perfect moment before you hit the ground.

You were sure you blacked out, because the next time you were aware, you were writhing on the ground, screaming. The pain in your side had doubled, tripled into a knot of agony. You glanced down, your hands covered in blood, to see a piece of a branch sticking out of your side. Had it been there the whole time? It must have been, but this was the first time you allowed yourself to notice. You were sure it was scraping along your gut, causing internal damage you wouldn't be able to fix stuck in the cellar of a gas station.

Your hands traveled down to wrap around the branch in your side. You knew you shouldn't pull it out, but now that you knew it was there, you were painfully annoyed by its presence. You wanted it gone. Now. But you had a higher risk of dying if you simply yanked it out. If the shock didn't kill you, then the blood loss surely would.

You heard the screech of an infected and prepared yourself for the worst. You weren't in any shape to fight one off, but the sharp sting of a bite never came. You cast your glance to the far side of the cellar, where part of the building had collapsed, rubble taking up the back half of the cellar. There was a face staring back at you, the rest of the body submerged beneath the debris. It shrieked at you again, uselessly trying to pull itself free, but stuck.

"Fuck you," you snarled, pain making your vision swim as you shakily held a hand up, flipping it off.

---

"Now, hold on," Joel said, halting your story. "What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how reckless that was?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him before slowly raising your shirt to show the scar on your side. "Yeah," you drawled, smiling at him. "I think I do."

Joel opened his mouth, no doubt ready to give you hell, but Ellie spoke first.

"So, you were bleeding out, delirious from the pain, and what? You magically got better? Rubbed some dirt in it and walked away?"

"No," you snorted, shaking your head. "There's more to the story than that."

---

You lost track of time in the cellar. You knew you were bleeding. You knew you were in pain. You knew you were in danger. But you couldn't seem to make any of your limbs work. Once it started growing dark, you knew you had a hard choice ahead of you. Make yourself move or simply lie there and die.

The sounds of the trapped infected had become background noise to you.

"You can do this," you muttered, your hands clenched into fists to help you deal with the pain. "Just get the fuck up," you hissed, finally pushing yourself to your knees.

It was a slow, torturous crawl to the trash can you had dropped into the cellar years before. You managed to roll it into the right place and slowly but surely pull yourself up onto it. The tricky part came when you had to straighten up, an excruciating ball of fire exploding in your side. You let out an agonized shriek to rival that of the infected before you forced your shaking hands to grab the edge of the floor above you.

You didn't remember much of how you managed to actually get out of the cellar. It was a blur of pain and swearing and wondering if you should just let yourself fall back into the cellar and die.

By the time you were stumbling out of Cumberland Farms, you knew you only had one option if you wanted to survive.

You were sure you could easily be mistaken for an infected as you staggered down the road. You were covered in blood, your ankle dragging as you pushed yourself forward against your body's wishes. You forced down a scream of pain when you felt your foot roll over a rock, your ankle protesting the movement. There were black spots dancing at the edges of your vision, your field of view growing smaller and smaller the longer you walked. Your head felt dangerously weightless, as if it would simply float above your body and eventually become untethered and your breaths were getting shorter and shorter, barely coming at all.

You didn't remember reaching your destination, but suddenly your hands were fumbling with a keypad and you were struggling to remember a string of numbers you could have sworn were ingrained in your memory. You didn't remember sitting on the ground and you didn't remember when it started raining. Your clothes were soaked, a mix of blood and water, making them cling to your skin in all the wrong places.

"We've got one that somehow avoided the traps," you heard someone say, startling you out of your daze.

You didn't know how you were suddenly looking up at the sky or why it was now daylight.

"Help," you rasped, hoping you were discovered by a friend and not a raider.

"Shit," Frank hissed, his voice coming closer. "It's Y/N. Let's get her inside."

"Hold on. Stay on that side of the fence," Bill said, holding out a hand to stall Frank from coming any closer. "She could be infected."

"It's Y/N," Frank tried to argue. "She needs our help."

Bill pulled to a stop over you, staring down at you. You saw Bill pull out a virus checker before he crouched down, holding it near your neck.

"Bill," Frank warned, apprehension in his tone.

"Please," you managed to say, staring up at Bill. You didn't know if any of the infected had managed to bite you in your rush to escape. If you were infected, then you wanted them to put you down before you turned. You didn't want to risk Bill and Frank more than you already had just by coming here. "Please," you repeated, managing to nod up at Bill.

He watched you for a moment before pressing the sensor to your neck. The sharp sting barely registered to you. It wasn't long before you heard Frank let out of a breath of relief. You saw the flash of green signaling you were in the clear before everything went black.

You were aware of things in brief flashes of time. You woke up the first time, a pained cry leaving you as Frank and Bill attempted to get you into their house.

"I know, I know," Frank tried to soothe you. "We've got you."

You woke up the next time on a table, screaming in agony as Bill pulled the branch out of your side. You were vaguely aware of the push and pull of your skin being stitched together. You could hear Bill and Frank talking above you. Frank sounded so worried and you wanted to tell him it would all be okay, but you couldn't seem to get anything out.

The first time you could actually make sense of what was going on, you realized you were on a bed.

"You scared Frank," came a voice from your side.

You glanced up, noticing Bill leaning against the wall of what you assumed was a spare bedroom, watching you. He had a gun in his hand, aimed at you, as if he didn't fully trust you wouldn't turn despite the all clear you got from the scanner.

"I'm sorry," you got out, your throat dry and scratchy. "I don't even remember getting here."

"You're lucky you didn't trigger one of my traps," he pointed out, finally lowering his gun. "You're lucky to be alive."

"Yeah," you sighed, suddenly aware of the tight feeling at your side. You moved to touch your side, but Bill stopped you.

"Don't," he warned, shaking his head. "You'll fuck up your stitches."

You wanted to thank Bill for having your back. He had every right to leave you out there. You knew he'd let the whole world burn to protect Frank and you respected that even when it meant you'd burn too. You simply settled for meeting Bill's gaze, letting everything you wanted to convey show on your face.

Bill simply dipped his head in a nod, his expression as stoic as ever, but his eyes conveying his understanding. In turn, you knew what he was telling you with just a look. His expression was stern, with just a hint of softness beneath it.

You can't stay here.

I have to protect Frank.

I'm glad you're alive.

"Once you're back up on your feet again--"

"I'll be out of here," you finished for him. "I'm grateful," you told him, offering a small smile. Your eyes felt heavy and your breaths were coming out slow and measured. You could feel yourself beginning to fall asleep again.

"I know," you heard Bill say before you drifted off.

Two weeks later, you felt like you were on the edge of overstaying your welcome. Your wounds were healing nicely and you could walk without feeling like your ankle was going to snap. You knew it was time to leave.

"You could stay," Frank offered, escorting you to the fence surrounding Lincoln.

"I know," you said, grinning at Frank. "But you know me. Can't stay in one place too long. It's not me."

"Y/N," Frank called, stalling you near the gate. "You know you're welcome here anytime. You don't have to wait until you're bleeding out to visit. Bill’s a grouch, and he’s got a funny way of showing it, but he likes you. He wouldn’t mind seeing you more often either."

"Thanks," you told him, taking a step towards him. You held your arms out, waiting for Frank to step into your embrace. "I'll be back," you promised him. "Hopefully without the blood next time," you joked, pulling away from him. "Take care of yourself, alright? And the grouch too."

Frank laughed, shaking his head. "You too. See you later, Y/N. Be careful out there."

"I'll try," you promised, winking at him, before you exited through the gate. You started walking down the path, sparing a look for Frank at the gate. You raised your hand in a wave before you turned around, resolving to visit them the next time you had to do a job in the state.

---

"And I haven't been back since," you admitted with a frown.

"Wow," Ellie breathed. "So, they saved your life and you couldn't even make the time to visit them? Remind me to let you bleed out next time."

"Okay, smartass," you said, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that easy, alright? Besides, I'm here now, right?" You pointed out, glancing at Joel, wondering if he got your meaning.

Joel was focused on Lincoln, though. He carefully instructed Ellie around the traps Bill had built and approached the gate. He typed in the code, glancing around, waiting for Bill or Frank to appear at any moment. Surely, Bill already knew you were here.

You followed Joel and Ellie through the gate and shut it behind you. You kept waiting for Bill or Frank to greet you, but you made it to their house without a sign from either one of them. A tendril of dread started to take root in your gut as you watched Joel easily push open the front door of their house. Bill always made sure it was locked if they were both inside. There was an eerie stillness that had settled over the town and you feared the worst.

You immediately moved upstairs, searching for the couple, but you drew short just outside an upstairs bedroom by Joel's worried voice calling Bill's and Frank's names. You rushed downstairs to see he was trying to open their bedroom door, obviously locked to keep anyone out.

"Uh, guys?" Ellie called, drawing you both to the dining room. She held a paper in her hands, reading over the words written on it. "This is for you," she said, glancing up at Joel. She tried to hand him the letter, but he refused with a shake of his head.

"You read it," he prompted, moving to lean against the wall while he listened.

You listened to Ellie read Bill's letter to Joel, keeping your eyes on him. You weren't sure if you were concerned about Joel or just trying to ignore your own feelings about Bill and Frank dying. It wasn't until Joel reached forward and snatched the letter away from Ellie, reading over something, before he shoved it at you.

"Joel, you know--"

"Just give me a moment," Joel interrupted Ellie, pushing past you to walk out of the room. You heard the door open and close and you were left alone with Ellie in the dining room.

You glanced down at the letter, reading the words Joel and Ellie didn't dare read aloud.

"I don't think he's over it yet," Ellie started, looking to you, cautious in case you didn't want to talk about it. Talk about Tess.

"I didn't even realize she was gone," you admitted, trying to process three deaths all at once. The world grew smaller each day and you weren't sure what you would do when it finally disappeared.

"I think he really loved her," Ellie observed, watching you.

"It was hard not to love Tess," you conceded, trying to get your thoughts in order. There was pain and shock and grief and guilt. You couldn't even find it in you to be jealous that Joel was so torn up over Tess and so obviously in love with her, because you understood. She was there for him through everything. She was his constant and you knew that losing her had to have shaken his world.

Your eyes caught on your name further down the letter.

And Y/N, if this is you, Frank wants you to know that you're welcome to any of it. You can stay, put down roots if you want. Pick any house you want. You'll find everything you need in the bunker. But if you can't stay, take what you need. Don't go falling on anymore trees, because we're not here to keep you from bleeding out. Good luck, kid.

A sob caught in your throat, the reality hitting you all at once.

Frank and Bill were gone.

Tess was gone.

You only had Joel now and by association Ellie and Tommy.

"I'll be right back," you told Ellie, hastily handing her the letter. You followed after Joel, finding him sitting on the lawn outside. "Hey," you whispered, approaching him, not wanting to startle him.

He didn't look at you, but you saw his shoulders tense before relaxing just a bit. You moved to sit at his side, letting your knee brush against his leg.

You sat there in silence with Joel for a few moments before you glanced over at him. "I'm sorry," you told him. "I know," you cut yourself off, knowing there weren't even words for what Tess was to Joel. "I know," you repeated, letting it stay there. Joel didn’t want to talk about it and you’d respect that, but you didn’t want him to feel alone. Not now and not ever.

He didn’t have to be alone and you were starting to realize you didn’t quite need to be alone either. Frank and Bill had years together, loving each other and surviving together, because those experiences didn’t need to be mutually exclusive. You only wished that you had understood that sooner.

Joel dipped his head in a nod before he finally looked at you. "I've got to go get Tommy out of some trouble in Wyoming and then I've got to get the kid somewhere. You're welcome to join us if you want in," he offered, the corners of his lips ticking up in a smirk. “Unless you’ve got a job you’d rather get to.”

"No. No job,” you answered, not caring about anything else but Joel and whatever journey he needed to take. "I'm in.”

taglist: @stilldreaming666 @littleshadow17 @rickysgrimes @owenniasstars

if you would like to be added, please fill out my tag list form or let me know here!

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou imagine #the last of us imagine #joel miller imagine #elgaldith fic #my fic

128 notes · View notes

weaveandwood · 1 month

Text

Weave and Woods Chapter Six: Inadequacies

Gale/Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

The party ventures into the Underdark. Auroria starts to learn new spells with Gale and the two poorly navigate the feelings growing between them.

“That was very inspiring,” Gale leaned over and spoke softly into her ear before the rest of the party joined them on the platform. “We should pool our minds more often.” She felt the tips of her ears getting hot, her heartbeat speeding up. Gods, just the feel of his presence near to her, his breath on her neck had her imagining the most inappropriate things involving his mouth. She looked at him, and could tell he was thinking similar thoughts the way his mouth was quirked up at the corner, the slight darkness in his eyes giving him away. She saw the faintest tint of purple glowing from his orb through his robes - he was getting worked up. Time to come back to reality. She cleared her throat, and he took a step away. The orb dimmed immediately.

“Ora.”

It felt good, saying it. The first time in over 5 years she had considered allowing anyone to call her by anything other than her full name. Karlach had been complaining over breakfast that Auroria, being four syllables, was a lot to yell out in the heat of the moment in battle, so they should give her a nickname. She had one for everyone else - Fangs, Fringe, Lae, Gale, Wyll….okay, everyone with more than one-syllable names. Although Gale was sometimes “Magic Man,” which amused Auroria to no end.

“Everyone used to call me Ora. It was a nickname my best friend gave me almost 20 years ago. When she died, I couldn’t stand the sound of it. It was too painful, too many memories. But now, with all of you, I think I’d like to go back to being Ora,” she said. She felt a hand in hers, squeezing softly in solidarity. Gale. She tried to suppress a smile, squeezing back before they both let go.

“Ora it is then! But wait - if you’ve only had a nickname for 20 years, did your mom really only call you by your full name?” Karlach asked.

“My mother was not keen on shortening names, something about respect for the person who named you. She didn’t even like it when I tried to call her ‘mom,’ and I think she may have contemplated abandoning me if I attempted to call her ‘mommy,’” Auroria laughed. “So no, she never called me anything besides Auroria. Elves can be weird about the smallest things,” she shrugged, “or maybe it’s just mothers.”

The journey to the Underdark would be a long one from their camp near the monastery, and they had planned to leave just as the sunrise was starting to slant over the horizon. The group knew the road well, having to backtrack to the Goblin Camp again to use an entrance they remembered sensing during their initial trip. They took care of the ogre guarding the entrance when they cleared out the entirety of the camp, knowing they would have to return once Halsin recommended entering the Shadow-Cursed Lands via the Underdark rather than the Mountain Pass.

Since she knew the area was secure, Auroria had lingered at the edge of camp, letting Wyll and Astarion take the lead. The two were diametrically different. Wyll was a hero in every sense of the word, even if he was in a pact with a devil. Auroria sensed there was more to the story about why he entered the deal with Mizora, but even though they were friends, he hadn’t opened up to the group about that yet. In time. Astarion was the definition of a rogue - cunning and clever. He bent the rules to suit his desires. Both outlooks on life were useful, and they were a good counterbalance to each other.

Shadowheart, Lae’zel, and Karlach were in the middle of the pack. Shadowheart was actually smiling at something Karlach had said, which was both hard to believe and completely believable - Karlach was infectious, it was impossible to be in a bad mood around her, even for Shadowheart. Lae’zel was subdued, less militant than normal due to the events at the Creche the day before, followed by the appearance of Voss in their camp as they were all attempting to sleep. The previous night had been eventful. She tried to put the memory of holding Gale’s hand for hours out of her mind, but couldn’t stop replaying it all night long. She wasn’t sure anyone was fully rested as they ventured into areas unknown to all of them.

“Coming?” Gale turned around, tilting his head to the side. “Everything okay?”

She smiled, hoisting her pack onto her shoulders and falling into step beside him. Though she was nervous, the thought of learning a few more spells, the cohesiveness of their party, whatever was budding between the two of them…she was full of hope.

“Absolutely.”

That optimism carried her as they figured out the puzzle to enter the Underdark. Auroria and Gale stared at the spinning disks on the floor for several minutes, passing theories back and forth to each other on what they thought the best solution was while the others looked around this previously unsearched part of the ruined temple for precious supplies.

Finally, it clicked. “What if…what if we spin these disks so they correspond to the phases of the moon?” Auroria said as she started moving the disks in a certain pattern, so each one was arranged to show four different moon phases - full, new, and half moons. Once she started getting going, Gale took the other half of the disks, both of them working together to complete the pattern. A faint rumble shook the room as the door to the Underdark opened. Auroria smiled, her hands on her hips, content with the satisfaction of solving something difficult.

******

Contrary to what everyone thought, the Underdark was not as depressing as it sounded like it would be. There was bioluminescence everywhere, casting everything with a pale blue glow. It was magical, almost peaceful. That feeling was short lived, however, when they almost immediately came upon a Spectator and a group of drow led by a Dhourn of House…Something-or-other. He was dead now, it didn’t matter. What did matter is that these foes proved to be much more formidable than the enemies they were used to fighting above ground, even with their more honed skills. The party ended with more cuts, stabs, and bruises than they had been dealt in quite some time, and they limped their way back to where they decided to set up camp so they could access their stash of more potent healing potions and let Shadowheart do her magic. Gale walked beside Auroria, who had a deep cut on her arm from a reanimated petrified drow, and a scowl on her face.

“How’s the arm?” He asked. She looked a million miles away, and didn’t answer him like she usually would. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Ora? You want to come back to the material plane?” He tested out the nickname. He liked it. He never wanted to call her anything else - it suited her.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, Gale. Just thinking. That was not our best fight,” she said, slightly dejected.

“True. I’d never seen a Spectator before in person. Horrifying creatures up close." He could tell her mind was working through all the ways the battle could have gone, both good and bad. Best to bring her back to the here and now. "How’s your arm?” He asked again, nodding at her injury.

She looked at her arm, blood soaking through the gaps of her armor from the cut. “It’ll be fine, nothing worse than what I’ve had before, especially once Shadowheart gets her spells on it. We got lucky today, but we need to train more if we’re going to be operating so close to our enemies. Thank the gods you had the foresight to stay up on the higher levels to cast, we were really taken by surprise.”

“Yes, I agree. A wizard is best kept at a distance for maximum spellcasting effect, though I have spent the last year working on my quarterstaff technique during my isolation. A fine workout that has proven to be rather handy should any foe get too close,” he said as Auroria nodded. Were her ears turning pink again? He smiled to himself. They only seemed to do that when she got flustered. Emboldened by her physical reaction, he leaned toward her a little as they walked. “Maybe you and I could spar, for practice?” Her ear tips deepened to a dark red. He had to admit the thought of seeing her in action, her skills directed at him, caused a shiver of excitement to run through him. His orb protested, sending a needle prick of pain through his veins. He winced slightly, then noticed Auroria’s eyes glancing at where the orb was, the faintest hint of a purple glow again. They both had their tells, apparently.

“Speaking of training,” she changed the subject, the furrow between her brows returning. “I’d like to start working on learning new spells. I need to know more than one, especially as our enemies get more and more powerful. Do you think we could start tonight?”

“I’d be delighted,” He replied, most enthusiastically.

******

Auroria hadn’t been this frustrated and annoyed with herself in years. She forgot just how difficult learning a new spell was. She tried to tell herself that she hadn’t done it in over 20 years, but really, how had her mother had this much patience? And good gods, how did Gale ?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I can’t get this,” She said, pacing back and forth as Gale flipped through the book on nature spells he had found at the monastery. They had settled on learning Ensnaring Strike, borrowing Lae’zel’s practice dummy that was set up on a rocky outcrop that was not too far from the campsite and surrounded by giant mushrooms and glowing trees. The spell wasn’t too different from Hail of Thorns, and would be useful for both ranged and melee attacks, if needed.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “You’re tense, you’re worked up from our fight this afternoon, we’re in a new environment, it’s…a lot. When I was young and found myself trying without success to untangle the Weave around a new spell, I would attempt to control my breathing, clear my mind, and focus on my connection to the Weave. Since you get your power from nature’s connection to the Weave, it’s a little different than drawing directly from it, but more or less the same concept. ‘Breathe in, breathe out, calm yourself’ was my mantra. Simple but effective. I said it many times a day when I first started at Blackstaff Academy. I still do, sometimes,” he said.

Auroria scoffed, “So, like when you were eight?”

Gale laughed, “Oh! No, when I was eight I thought I could just do whatever spell I wanted. Most of them went awry - just ask my mother about the neighbor’s incinerated rose bushes! Or the magma mephit I summoned instead of a tressym. When I was an apprentice though, I challenged myself to learn spells only the most advanced wizards used. Sometimes, after several failures, you just need to….take a break. It took a long time to get there, but I found that relaxing the tension within me would help me navigate the Weave with more control. Before that, there were a lot of explosions and portals to other planes opening,” he chuckled to himself.

Auroria groaned, dropping into a crouch with her head in her hands. “You were summoning creatures through portals at eight? You must feel like you’re in the presence of an idiot, then. I can’t even do a simple spell for, what did the book say again? Novice rangers and druids?”

Gale crouched down in front of her. “No, what I’m saying is maybe you need a break. You’re not used to channeling magic, and you’ll burn out if you try to ignore these feelings. Believe me, I completely understand wanting to get it right away - that ambition is hard to put a damper on. But you need to pace yourself.”

“Says the celebrated boy genius wizard prodigy,” she muttered.

“It wasn’t all great, Auroria,” he said, quietly.

She looked up, seeing hurt in his eyes. Shit, I did that. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to feeling so inadequate. Today really threw me and I’m taking my frustrations out on everyone but myself. And since you’re the only one here, you’ve become my target, not the dummy.” She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Gale.”

She exhaled, puffing out her cheeks and looked around, eyeing a couple of the practice sticks set out by the practice dummy. “I’m tired of using my brain. I believe you mentioned sparring earlier?” She smiled as she got up, walking to the dummy and tossing him one of the lightweight staffs. “Let's see these skills you’ve honed.”

Gale caught the staff easily in one hand, bowing to her, “As the lady wishes.”

“Oh, I am the farthest thing from a lady, good sir, but I do wish,” she smiled as she started to circle him.

The next hour passed easily. Gale won most of the rounds, not exaggerating his extensive training. Their match ended with Auroria on her back, Gale’s staff aimed at her chest, both of them panting, covered in sweat. She put up her hands, laughing, “I surrender!” Gale held out his hand for Auroria to take, pulling her up easily. He was stronger than she had assumed, and she lost her balance a little as she stood up faster than anticipated, crashing into his chest.

They stared at each other, Auroria’s eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth, the bead of sweat running down the side of his temple. She could see his eyes making the same path on her own face - eyes, lips, sweat. The skin on her neck and ears burned, not just from the exertion of their practice. Gods, she wanted to kiss him so badly, to feel his lips against hers, his breath on her skin, his hands…oh hells, his hands everywhere. She wanted to hold her breath, for this moment to never end. He held her hand tightly to his chest, closing his eyes as if he wanted to freeze this moment as well.

“Gale -”

“Ora, I -” a wince, another faint glow. He took a step backward, the glow fading again. “I can’t.” He dropped her hand and took another step back. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

He turned and headed back to camp.

Auroria stood alone in the training area, brow furrowed as she watched Gale retreat. She picked up her bow and an arrow and turned back to her initial task. Breathe in, breathe out, calm yourself. Breathe in, breathe out, calm yourself, she repeated mentally before firing an arrow at the base of the training dummy. She focused her energy, her sadness, her frustration into the concentration aspect of the spell. The ground rumbled, vines popping up from the ground wrapping around the figure, thorns piercing the cloth body.

“I did it!” She gasped, then looked around beaming, laughing to herself, raising her bow overhead in celebration as she realized she cast the spell successfully. She looked around for Gale, forgetting for a moment that he had already gone back to camp and she was truly alone. Again. She dropped her bow to her side as the vines retracted back into the ground. “I did it,” she whispered. She turned and left the training area, a new determination settling over her. She refused to let hopelessness overtake her, and she wouldn’t let Gale run away from this thing they were both very obviously feeling toward each other, orb be damned.

#gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #named tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale x tav slow burn #tav x gale #gale fanfic #gale brainrot #my writing #my screenshots #gale x auroria #auroria galanodel #weave and woods #weave and woods fic

11 notes · View notes

sonicasura · 8 months

Text

Tales of Father Rung: Ren

Remember the post about my discovery of Rung and what characters who need a robodad? This is basically that but each option gets their post. I figured Ren Amamiya would be the best to start off with.

Especially since this delightful post popped up on my recommendation that sounds like perfect dialogue for Rung if he was in a Persona game. Let's get started.

Ren meets our dear therapist at the age of five. His 'family' are scum so horrible that on one night the young boy ran away from home. Ren stumbles upon Rung by sheer accident in the woods. Now the poor therapist is already out of his depth on the whole situation but it becomes clear that the boy shouldn't return home.

He looks malnourished and the bruises on Ren paint an awful image in his mind. Thus Rung has essentially took the first towards fatherhood via acquiring a child. And oh boy was the start awkward.

Like minor theft of food until a support plan was made, scrounging for any loose change to find stuff to sell, education, etc. Can't forget how to bond with a kid that been horribly mistreated by his own family unit. It was a rough start but the two got through it all together.

Then comes the fateful day where Ren is arrested and unfairly judged. Rung was immediately taken off guard by the incident altogether knowing his human youngling was innocent. Only thing he can do is follow the teenager and look after him during his sentence unaware of the adventure they were about to face.

Like Ren, the Metaverse appeared on Rung's systems during an internet search. He dives into Kamoshida's Palace during the second visit taking Ann's spot as fourth team member. (She still joins.) Rung is given the Codename Guide which is a reference to guiding Ren throughout life.

Personas have their own personality and are quite an interesting bunch. They can manifest in the Real World but most prefer not to unless necessary. All of them are quite curious about Rung with some referring him as 'kin'.

The therapist practically adopted all the Phantom Thieves and dubbed Robodad by them. He often helps the kids with their problems whether it be actual therapy or other stuff such as homework. Strangely the Persona don't disappear after every endgame events. They all say a new unique contract been formed being the reason why.

Now I'll be separating each iterations interaction with the Personaverse. The Phantom Thieves' true identities have been erased from people's mind post Maruki boss battle.

Bayverse

*I'll be composing a list later but Earth landmarks are made by humans and not Cybertronians. Only part of the planet have fragments from Unicron buried inside and a molten core is at the center like in real life.

An encounter with Autobots Drift(Swords Arcana), Hound(Clubs) and Crosshairs(Coins) occur during the events of Persona 5. They don't know about the group's true identity, only that Rung adopted a human youngling.*

Events of the first movie begins after the showdown with Yadalbaoth. The Thieves visit America for a road trip with Rung. Ren befriends Sam and Mikaela but also buys the glasses from the former. An action that results in the Autobots creating a temporary base as they search for Amamiya.

It takes about two weeks until the vacation home the Thieves are staying in is found. During that time, Ironhide comes across Rung. The Autobot assumes he is a refugee and takes him to base.

He's stuck there for two hours until he finally mentions he has younglings at home. (There's a misconception about the Thieves being Cybertronians as Rung didn't mention them being humans until day 4 of the search.)

Jazz: You adopted a human?!

Rung: He ran away from an abusive household and we bumped into each other. I also became a parental unit to his friends.

Optimus: You made a good call. How old was the youngling at the time?

Rung: He was five years old.

Everyone: FIVE!!!?

The therapist doesn't mention Ren's name until the Autobots show up at the house. A misunderstanding fueled fight occurs between the Thieves and bots until Rung arrives. Changes occur afterwards in the plot occurs afterwards.

A heist to steal the Allspark from Sector 7 is planned. Palace for the Decepticons can be found there ruled by Phantom Megatron. He replaces the movie's final battle with him and his followers mellowing to non-hostile. Boss form is a Hydra with each head representing every element in the series. Allspark isn't destroyed.

The Fallen fully possesses Megatron and brings long deceased Cybertronians back to life. Optimus is critically injured with the Matrix of Leadership being the only tool that can save him. NEST was never formed with both factions using the Thieves' Den as temporary quarters until a more suitable one is made.

Dark of the Moon is focused on building a space bridge. Sentinel Prime still discovered but becomes an enemy as an incident occurs where reactivation results in mania. Ironhide loses his right arm due to intervention from Ryuji. Cybertron begins rebuilding afterwards.

Phantom Thieves end up in an alternate universe where they don't exist (i.e Personaverse). The group must help these remaining Autobots survive and retrieve the intact Allspark from their universe to help rebuild Cybertron. Quintessa alongside Unicron are dealt with before the thieves return home.

Knightverse

A huge disturbance in Mementos blast the Phantom Thieves and Rung into the Knightverse. This also creates places all across America known as shadow zones, areas where the Metaverse intertwined with reality. Shadows manifest here and sometimes concepts merge with desires to form powerful ones called Abyss.

Phantom Thieves tackle these anomalies as they search for a way back home. It doesn't take long to encounter their first Cybertronian. Well, Cybertronian adjacent in the form of Airazor. This Maximal had been trying remove these areas upon first contact on a fateful flight.

She teams up with Rung and the Phantom Thieves. Like the therapist, Airazor sees the human younglings as her chicks in a sense. Much to the amusement of the Persona.

Ren: *working on a model*

Airazor: What are you building little chick?

Arsene: *shows the box which has a falcon on it* A custom model based on thou, Airazor.

Airazor: It looks lovely.

It takes awhile before the events of RotB to begin. Luckily they manage to clean up the many Shadowzones that manifest over time. The thieves and Rung take center stage first.

Ren bumps into Noah and Kris on the subway. The three converse a bit before having to part ways. He later encounters Elena upon visiting the museum and sticks up for her when a certain coworker decides to berate her.

The Autobots detect Rung's peculiar Energon signature all over the Phantom Thieves. Optimus follows Ren whose signal is the strongest amongst the group. Joker nearly getting into a car accident when Prime nabs him.

Arséne scares the shit out of Noah while an angry Rung shows up for his missing youngling. Younger bots are curious when the other thieves appear whilst Optimus is ready to have an aneurysm. Co-collaboration begins.

Museum heist gone wrong with Bumblebee critically injured. Yusuke intervene just in time to save the scout from Scourge. Phantom Thieves and Rung ship Elena/Airazor alongside Noah/Mirage.

Futaba bonding with Bumblebee as he gets slowly repaired. When everyone realizes the cat can turn into a mini van: 🤯. Arcee joins the girl squad. Cultural exchange while treasure hunting.

Mind Control= Simple Status Effect to Persona. No goodbyes are made for the Maximals. The Battle For Planet Earth results in the resurgence of Satanael. Demon Lord, Prime and therapist punish fallen god.

Prime

(Unicron merged with half of Earth's iron core during planet formation. Some people have tolerance to Dark Energon as they were born or have ancestors who originate from land built around the Unmaker. Rung is the only Cybertronian who knows about the Phantom Thieves.)

The Darby family hosts Ren for the year as part of a cultural exchange. Phantom Thieves can visit through the Thieves' Den no matter the distance. While on his way to seeing Ren, Rung arrives in time to save Cliffjumper from what would be his untimely demise.

He leaves before the Autobots appear as his human youngling is top priority. Ren knows Jack's new ride is a Cybertronian but doesn't say anything. He does search for Rung's little homemade habsuite in Jasper. Miko talks about the Phantom Thieves once she joins the group.

Ratchet: The what?

Miko: Phantom Thieves of Hearts! They're an awesome group who make terrible people confess their crimes and turn themselves in! I'm pretty sure Guide is a bot like you guys! Look up 'Demon Lord of Hearts' on YouTube. *Ratchet plays the video link sent by Miko*

Bulkhead: By the Allspark!! You're telling us that happened on this planet?!

Cliffjumper: Hey! It's the bot who saved me from those Vehicon punks!

Finding the Phantom Thieves and Rung becomes a main priority. The Decepticons find out later when a Groundbridge malfunction drops Ren on the Nemesis. He escapes the place as Joker but now a manhunt for him begins.

It takes time before Ren's identity become known to the Autobots.

Vince has his heart changed(which prevents Speed Metal from occurring.) Rung crashes on the Autobots' clash with Skyquake. The Decepticon follows the therapist away as if his spark is being called by him.

Moonlit chase between Joker, Knockout and Breakdown(replaces Speed Metal). KO appreciates knife heels whilst the two Decepticons fight Arséne. Joker gets away but earns their respect.

The Matrix of Leadership pulls at Optimus to find Rung. Jealousy can be felt inside and aimed at Joker. Optimus finally admits his worry to Ratchet.

Phantom Thieves of Heart vs M.E.C.H. Full fledge assault that results in Breakdown being taken into the thieves' custody. The bot didn't expect to see Skyquake. Breakdown laters defects and becomes Ryuji's guardian.

Decepticon warrior becomes Haru's guardian. Skyquake is getting used to this new world but the Thieves show him hospitality despite affiliation. Has an inkling on who Rung is.

Starscream seeks out the Phantom Thieves to change Megatron's spark. The Decepticon Leader is weary about this opposition's ability. Something Starscream will use as he's done being the ex-gladiator's punching bag.

That's it for now! Until next time folks, Transform and Roll Out!

10 notes · View notes

thermitetermite · 2 years

Text

Prompt #2 - EMP

Tldr: Villain lives a dream life but feels something (or someone) is missing

It had been years since Villain moved out to the calm wilderness valley they call home. After a successful career robbing banks, taking out numerous government satellites, and working as a bounty hunter for hire they had decided to retire. Well... more like they were asked to retire by Hero due to the dangerous nature of their power.

Villain had the ability to emit electromagnetic pulses that had could destroy any electronic device and disturb electrical signaling. While their powers made them highly useful for any type of large scale battle or heist it carried the risk endangering the health of any living creature around them.

When your neurons rely on mini electronic signaling it's best not to hang out with someone who can easily stop them.

For this reason much of Villain's life was spent in a lead suit of armor. Eating in a metal suit. Sleeping in a metal suit. Using the restroom in a metal suit. Life sucked in that stupid suit. Living in a metal suit wasn't comfortable by any means so when offered a cozy cabin secluded valley in the middle of nowhere with no risk of injury anyone they took it without hesitation. Just one of the perks of having a rich hero.

They woke up that morning the same as they had every morning for the past 16 months. Villain lazily rolled out of their plush king-sized bed and slowly made their way down the steps leading from their loft bedroom down to the combined living room and kitchen.

They boiled water on their wood stove for a nice cup of insta coffee, lit a couple candles in their living room, and stepped out on their back porch to enjoy the picturesque view of their pond, forest, and mountains. It seemed like something you'd see on a 50¢ post card.

Villain hadn't thought they'd ever live a cottagecore lifestyle (as they heard it called before) but here they were surrounded by nature and looking forward to tending their garden.

As they made their way toward their garden they thought of everything they had. Those thoughts quickly turned to the things they missed. Namely other people.

Well... that would probably be a lie. They hated people and loved never seeing anyone other than their occasional glimpse of the mailman.

No, it wasn't people they missed. You could say that the rest of humanity was zapped off the face of the Earth and Villain would celebrate with a road trip to release as many animals from zoos and pounds as possible.

As much as Villain wanted to deny it, there was only one person they really missed and it was the very same Hero who bought them this natural paradise. How they missed teasing their Hero with ideas of schemes they could enact. That dumb face when they got caught off guard. That nagging voice when they told Villain not to hurt themselves in battles. The way their eyes sparkled when Villain gave them their favorite flowers.

Ok, alright! They admit it! They have a huge crush on Hero and they didn't know how to tell them! How do you tell some amazing, talented, funny, and stunning hero, who just happens to be rich, that you like them?! A hero who is so passionate and caring and gentle and... Kind! A kind Hero who is perfect in every way and is immune to your "death aura" so you can't accidentally kill them when you hold their hand.

Villain had to stop for a moment to try and collect their thoughts. They were getting too carried away thinking about the cute hero. They felt their mind melting into a mush of compliments, lovey dovey gunk, and images of Hero's face.

The distant sound of a mail truck honking snapped them out of their thoughts. All thoughts of the gardening and love were gone as Villain practically sprinted the 5 mile driveway to the mailbox at the end (they rode their bike to the end but in all fairness they almost forgot their bike).

Once there they flicked through their mail. Junk. Junk. Junk. Junk. Bingo! It was their weekly letter from Hero!

They did a little victory dance before riding back to the cabin to open it up. Hero and Villain had agreed to write letters to keep in touch, an idea Hero proposed in exchange for the cabin. An unfair trade on the Hero's end but Villain wasn't one to pass up a good deal.

Villain threw open the door and immediately ripped open the letter. They read it once, twice, thrice before processing the contents. It stated that Hero might have to stop sending letters due to them being under heavy watch by the government.

Supposedly, the government had noticed the disappearance of the largest thorn in their side and suspected Hero of hiding them. They had to lay low and were extremely sorry that they had to tell Villain like this. Villain, crushed by this news, put the letter in their letter notebook (a complete normal person thing to have), and sat down to process.

They were worried for Hero's safety. They were scared of what might happen to Hero if they were caught. They wanted to step out of this cabin and rip the branches of the government apart with the same ease of snapping a twig, not that they could.

No... Their hero has to have a plan and must be doing ok. They couldn't think this way about their Hero! That's absolutely insulting to their awe-inspiring Hero!

Yes! They'd get their mind off of silly worries by tending to their garden. Watering plants, weeding garden beds, and picking wildflowers was just the type of distraction they needed.

As they went to grab a watering can from their gardening closet (another completely normal house thing) there was a knock at the door. At first calm but quickly growing frantic. The shock made Villain nearly drop their watering can.

They weren't ready for company no matter who it was! They were still in pyjamas for Pete's sake! However, once the shock wore off they quickly remembered they were Villain, one of the strongest people on the entire planet! No stranger was going to scare them in their own home!

They marched up to the door and threw it open again prepared to zap the life out of any intruder who dared trespass on their lovely home. Instead they found Hero, looking frazzled and nervous at their doorstep.

"Um, hi?" Hero said out of breath with their eyes shifting everywhere before locking on Villain's.

"Hi." Villain responded voice croaky from disuse and out of breath for an entirely different reason.

#villian x hero #hero x villain #villain #heroxvillain #hero #cottagecore #fluff #writing prompt #writing #super villians #supervillain #villain in love #fluffy #villain doesn't realize that a person who hates you wouldn't give you a luxury cabin #oblivious #nerd villain

91 notes · View notes

thesidestoaconflict · 3 months

Text

Middle Ground: Chapter 4

Letter In A Bottle 2236 words First Chapter Next Chapter Previous Chapter

Upon her arrival in Accumula town, Hilda didn’t spot either of her friends anywhere. Hilbert had disappeared off into the woods after antagonising her for a little bit longer, so she was on her own – aside from her pokemon- to figure out this new place.

It was weird to be here on foot; she’d never actually been to Accumula town before.

Well, not unless you counted bus rides and car rides through it on a drive to visit Nimbasa city for a family day out or a school trip… Those of which she’d usually be asleep through anyway thanks to car-sickness tablets that made her incredibly drowsy.

This was nowhere near as big or bustling as Nimbasa, but it was certainly bigger than Nuvema town was.

It was quite nice. As much as she liked Nuvema’s majority pathways being dirt roads, the concrete tiles Accumula boasted were much easier for her to walk on.

The lack of flowers at the side of streets was somewhat sad, but the even nature of the sidewalks here was pleasant.

As she wandered, she absentmindedly noticed an elderly couple walking their pet herdiers, a group of uniformed individuals setting up banners and signs, shops, a cute looking tearoom, and finally she stumbled upon the Pokemon Centre.

She’d only actually been in one once before.

Years ago, when her mom had been invited to join a veteran trainers’ battle tournament, and both Hilda and Hilbert had been brought along to watch. The battles themselves had been pretty interesting, but Hilda most strongly remembered how bored she’d been in the night afterwards; the room in the Centre’s Lodge was plenty comfortable, but it wasn’t hers, and that was weird.

She hoped she’d have grown out of that sort of thing by now.

A little overwhelmed once she got inside, Hilda looked around the lobby of the Centre. A small seating area with a couple of vending machines at the wall nearby, a small PokeMart, a stairwell on each wall that led up to the Trainers’ Lodge that was free to use for any active trainers, and right in the middle, a central desk and the Centre’s Ward admission, with three nurses standing by, ready for any Trainers or other people who might rush in with a pokemon in need of urgent care.

With the egg in her arms, Hilda made her way over to the nurse’s desk.

“Hi,” she started, as one of the nurses turned his attention to her, and Hilda wished talking to strangers was literally any easier, “Can you, uh, do a check-up on this?”

The nurse carefully took the egg from her, “Of course. Do you have any other pokemon you’d like to have a check-up?”

“Oh, yeah,” she took out Helios’ pokeball, and plucked Otto off her shoulder to place on the desk, “These two, please.”

“No problem. Do you have this oshawott’s pokeball?”

She handed it over, and the nurse smiled.

“This’ll take about ten to twenty minutes. You’re free to browse the rest of the Centre. If you wish to leave, please leave us a cell number on one of the cards on the desk, and we’ll give you a call when your team are ready to pick up.”

Hilda nodded. “Thanks.”

The nurse bowed his head to her, recalled Otto into his ball, and took them through to the wards that were underneath the Lodge.

In the meantime, Hilda purchased a can of lime soda from one of the vending machines, and sat herself down at a table to pore over the documents once more- this time with the heavy book Cheren had gifted her open next to it.

She flipped through the huge contents section, eyes flicking over every word to see if there was anything that could potentially relate to the stones, and she noted the page numbers down in her notebook for later perusal.

As she looked over a chapter about the Swords of Justice, the Centre grew busier. It was around noon, so folks were coming in for a break from whatever they were doing to stock up on travel gear, get their pokemon teams checked for any injuries, grab a drink from the vending machine and sit down for a while.

Hilda paid them all little mind, sipping on her soda as she carefully read through the anecdotes and theories, only pausing briefly to look up as someone sat down at the same table as her- with there being nowhere else to sit.

“Sorry,” he said, somewhat nervously, “I won’t be here long.”

“Uh. No problem,” Hilda shrugged, and glanced down at how her papers and notebook and giant book were sprawled over almost the entire table, “Do you want me to move my stuff out of the way?”

The man shook his head, eyes closed briefly and mouth curved into a tiny smile, “No. No. I wouldn’t want to bother you; your work looks quite important.”

She shrugged again, “It might be, not sure yet. Thanks, though.”

He nodded, and leant back in his chair. Hilda took that as a sign the conversation was over, tried her best to not sigh loudly in relief, and instead looked closer at her book, copying out a sketch of a silhouette of one of the Swords into her notebook.

They were protectors of pokemon of incomprehensible age, perhaps they’d know something about these eggs? Rocks? Things?

Pokemon so ancient as them must have some way of communicating with humans, right?

She sighed, tapped her foot on the floor in frustration, and noted them down as a possibility.

And as she turned to the next chapter- about the oldest tale known in Unova, that of the Twin Dragons- she heard the nurse’s voice call out her Trainer ID.

A brief look over her messy set-up, how annoying it would be to put away to just take out again, and she hesitated while midway through getting to her feet.

“Um. Sorry,” she addressed the man across the table, who was currently absorbed in a small book of his own, and he looked up, “Do you mind watching my stuff for a sec? I’ve gotta go get my team from the nurse.”

“No problem.” He nodded, and Hilda dashed off to the nurse.

Both Otto and Helios burst from their pokeballs as she reached the desk, with Helios leaping at her to lick at her face again, while Otto tried to be dignified and show restraint, though he hugged at Hilda’s hand when she reached out to scratch behind his ears.

“This egg is in good health!” the nurse told her, handing it over once her pokemon were situated in comfortable positions (Helios on her shoulder, Otto on top of her head), “I’d expect it to hatch in just a couple of days. We were able to run a scan to figure out what species it is too, if you’re interested?”

She hummed, petting Helios absentmindedly as she thought, “I think I’d rather keep it a surprise, but do you know what type it’ll be? And what food I should have on hand in preparation?”

The nurse nodded, and informed her it was a part flying type, and it would be good to have easy to chew pokemon kibble, and plenty of roasted seeds on hand for when it hatched.

Hilda thanked him, and hurried back to her table, where she noticed the man from before was looking interestedly at her book, trying to read it upside-down.

He jolted as she sat back down, and for a moment he looked almost afraid, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Feel free to read it if you want,” Hilda said, balancing the egg on her lap and she spun the book around, “I’ve heard that legend a billion times, I doubt there’s anything in there that’ll help me with my work.”

The Twin Dragons were almost completely, entirely myth. Symbolic versions of the Twin Kings who had started a war that had almost destroyed the Unova region before it was even born. Thousands of thousands of years ago.

She thought they were both stupid, to be perfectly honest.

Still, she didn’t comment as the man started reading the chapter with obvious interest, and instead looked over her notes, and compared them to the photographs of the ruins, just in case there was an obvious link she hadn’t recognised.

There wasn’t.

Back to square one.

Unless she miraculously were to run across one of the Swords- whose existence was doubtful- and they somehow could speak to her in a way she understood- which was even more doubtful.

“Fascinating,” said the man, and he carefully pushed the book back to Hilda, “Thank you for letting me read it. I do love that tale, but it’s been a long while since I’ve read it. And I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen it written about in such a scholarly fashion!”

It was such an obvious conversation opener, and Hilda tried her best to repress a cringe. She liked talking with her friends, but a stranger…

Well. This was what being a Trainer was all about, right? “Broadening one’s horizons and meeting new people and pokemon”, or something… It wouldn’t hurt to just talk to this guy for a minute about books.

Even if he did have bad taste in myths.

“Yeah, the prose in this book is really nice,” Hilda halfway agreed, “Do you read a lot about this sort of thing?”

He nodded, “I do! I find great joy in old stories. They always seem so wise, but that might just be our ability of having hindsight.”

Hilda huffed out a small laugh, “True, true. Say, have you read about the Sinjoh ruins? I think they’re especially interesting.”

“I haven’t!”

“Oh man, you’ve gotta check them out, they’re really cool.” Hilda carefully tore a blank page from her notebook and scribbled down some books that were related to Sinjoh, as well as some other things the man might find interesting, and handed it to him, “Here! If you find any of these books, give them a look. They’re all really informative and well written.”

He took the scrap of paper with a broad smile, “Thank you! I’ll make sure to look out for them. Out of curiosity, what are your thoughts on the Twin Dragons?”

Hilda grimaced. “Well, they’re interesting. Not my favourite, though… Such senseless violence over a harmless difference in opinion? Can’t say I’m a fan…”

She continued to discuss legends and such, and amicably debate over the meaningfulness of the Twin Dragons with her new acquaintance. Her pokemon seemed to like him, which was a sign that he was probably a good guy.

But eventually, her phone’s ringtone blared through the Pokemon Centre as Bianca called to ask where she was. After explaining, and promising to meet her friends outside in a moment, Hilda put her books away.

“Thanks for talking with me, I hope you like those books if you find them.” She said as she stood, and reached a hand out to the man, in an offer to shake his hand, “I’m Hilda, by the way.”

“I’m sure I will, Hilda. Thank you for sharing them with me! I look forward to reading them.” He shook her hand briefly, “And my name is N.”

Hilda forced her face to remain neutral as she bid him farewell, biting down hard on the inside of her mouth as she left the Centre with Otto fast asleep on her shoulder, and Helios ambling behind her.

“What the hell kind of name is N?” she whispered to the duo, stifling a giggle, once she got outside, “Just… Just the letter? I guess he doesn’t have any problems with getting it misspelled, though, huh?”

Helios looked up at her with curious eyes, and Otto remained snoozing away, both completely unaware of any oddities about the guy.

Cheren and Bianca were sitting in a small plaza, sharing a pack of chips- which they offered to Hilda as well. She took some and sat down next to them.

“Where even were you for so long?” Cheren asked, “And how many pokemon did you catch?”

“PMC, and I got this little cutie,” she lifted Helios onto her lap, “And ‘Bert gave me an egg, but I’m not sure that counts just yet.”

“Oh, how sweet!” Bianca exclaimed, reaching to pet the puppy under his chin, “I caught a lillipup as well! Her name is Heather, what about yours?”

“Helios,” Hilda said, “What about you, Cher?”

In reply, Cheren pulled a sleeping purrloin from his backpack.

“Her name’s Diane.” He said simply, “Just be wary, she’s a bit of a wannabe thief.”

They all cooed over each other’s newest team members for a while, playing fetch with the lillupups and giving Diane a mountain of treats, all the while, they discussed anything and everything, from the best methods for catching pokemon, to the great mystery they’d been asked to play a part in solving, to the potential of all three of them taking on the Gym Challenge, and more.

At least, until they noticed a lot of people heading towards the sound of someone speaking into a microphone.

In silent agreement, and a surge of curiosity, the trio called back their new pokemon, and with their starters resting on their shoulders, they headed towards the source of the noise together.

#middle ground #tstac: middle ground #chapter

1 note · View note

naturiisms · 1 year

Text

if you’re hearing CAN U MEET ME THERE by ISSADORA AVA playing, you have to know AYANNA TAHERI (SHE/THEY; NONBINARY) is near by! the 23 year old has been in denver for, like, TWO MONTHS. they’re known to be quite UNPREDICTABLE, but being CHARISMATIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble KHADIJA RED THUNDER. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those PILES OF BOOKS ALL OVER THE PLACE, AN ICED COFFEE ON A SPRING DAY, FROLICKING THROUGH FLOWERS AND CONNECTING WITH NATURE vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around THE WOODS long enough!

STATISTICS:

full name: ayanna taheri

nicknames: yaya, yanna, sunny

birthday: february 2, 1997

hometown: ann arbor, michigan

occupation: social media manager at Green Thumb Cafe

hobbies: taking care of her houseplants, collecting books she'll never read, biking, hiking, and ceramics.

lives: the woods

BACKGROUND:

ayanna grew up in a typical suburban family with an older brother and two loving parents to dote on her. coming from a stable family gave ayanna the opportunity to hone their creative talents and push herself to become the best version. starting in ballet at 7, moving to gymnastics at 10, then flute and piano at 12, until they took their first art class at 14 where they realized this is where they could truly express themself. change is not an issue for ayanna if it means going after what she wants.

her next four years of high school were something she only imagined happened in movies. crossing the canadian border to visit art museums in ontario with their friends, going to local farmers markets on the weekends, submitting their art to competitions hosted by the school. finding the next adventure was always first on the list for her and her friends, academics usually falling second. they didn't do bad in school, but definitely had no interest in going to university since they'd only want to pursue art, anyway.

after graduating high school, ayanna found herself moving from her cozy suburban town and leaving all of her friends to go "find herself" on a cross country road trip. their parents bought and converted a van for her, and she set off on her drive to washington. along the way they stayed in various cities for different amounts of time, working odd jobs here and there. each city they went to, she found an art studio where she was able to continue creating and often left the pieces behind for the studio to share with others.

about a year into the road trip, still meandering through the country while they slowly made it to their destination, she found herself stopped in arizona where she parked her van for 2 years. it was here that they met their long time ex-partner, who they would finish their roadtrip with. they met at a ceramics studio, where she realized she was actually really good at it. after the first date they were practically inseparable, alternating between staying in her van or her partner's apartment. eventually, they downsized lyla's apartment and started the roadtrip to washington where they lived in a tiny house until they broke up a year ago.

after the breakup, ayanna spent the first few months renovating her van that hadn't been used in quite a while; only for camping trips or little roadtrips they planned. after she'd started picking her pieces back up and using renovation as therapy, they decided it was time to pick up and start a new adventure. this is how they ended up in colorado, spending 6 months in colorado springs before driving the van to denver 2 months ago. currently, she parks her van outside of their apartment at the woods where they plan to convert it into her own ceramics studio.

HEADCANONS:

ayanna got her job at Green Thumb Cafe by parking her van there the first two weeks she was in denver. she'd go inside every day for a little breakfast or lunch and eventually her and the owner got talking about the photos she'd taken of the cafe and the plants he could see from their van. she started a clipping trade day through instagram and has been the social media manager since.

they are seriously afraid of dogs but have a pet tarantula. logic? not here

favorite colors are sage green and lilac

she grows her own herbs and tomatoes and strawberries

#*ayanna.#chq;intro #this got so long i have so many more headcanons #if u wanna plot lmk hhehehe

8 notes · View notes

kootiepatra · 9 months

Text

FFXIVWrite2023 - Day 1: Envoy

When Keimwyda set out from her homestead some few moons back, intending to pick up some odd jobs in Gridania, she had not expected that her road would lead to diplomatic work.

Not that she minded, exactly. She did enjoy the chance to see more of the world and meet new people. She was honored to be trusted with the task, and would endeavor to do it justice. But she was just a nobody from the backwoods Shroud. She could not shake the nagging sense that she had no business moving in such circles.

It had been beyond surreal to not just meet the Elder Seedseer, but to be sent on a personal mission by her. Keimwyda had hoped one day to visit Limsa Lominsa as a simple tourist, but as fate had it, her first trip there took her straight to the desk of the High Admiral herself. And while she had never previously made plans to visit Ul’dah, she had now been and gone from there as well, expressly to deliver a message to the commander of the Immortal Flames.

Those meetings had all been plenty daunting in their own rights. She still could scarcely believe any of it had truly happened. But she had done it. She had met the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance. And she had been well enough received to believe she had done a reasonably good job of it. She had mostly been able push her nerves aside. She had been given a job to do. So she would chin up and do it.

Yet somehow, now looking down at the pouting, diminutive leafy creature before her, she felt she might entirely implode under the weight of her own mortification.

Like any child of the Black Shroud, she had heard of the sylphs—but like most, she had never actually met one before. The tales of their magical mischief were widely known, and ranged from the charmingly funny to the terrifying. She knew not how many of those stories to believe. But that was not why her heart was currently pounding in her ears. In fact, when Minfilia had asked her to go and lend the aid of her Echo to these negotiations, she had actually been a little excited. Getting to meet the sylphs in person! Imagine.

That was before she had learned about their particular, and very exacting etiquette.

“Walking one is not familiar to this one,” the sylph harrumphed, fluttering up closer to her eye level and folding his arms. “This one does not trust strange walking ones. Strange dancing ones might be a different story, but this one expects no such thing. Walking one should go home, and leave this one be.”

Keimwyda felt her mouth going dry. She cast a quick glance around Little Solace. There were a very few non-sylphic people milling about—a Wood Wailer or two, a researcher, and of course, Yda and Papalymo, who were keeping their distance to allow Keimwyda to break the ice. All of them seemed to be casually going about their business. But she could tell she was being deliberately held in more than one of their peripheral views.

Every sylph, on the other hand, was openly staring.

She had hoped against hope that the combination of her Echo and the pungent gift of milkroot she brought with her might spare her from this ordeal. But it seemed there was naught for it but to comply.

So she took a deep breath, stretched her arms out low by her sides, and did the only thing she could think of: a simple, hopping two-step she had not attempted since learning it from the other children in the village square some twenty summers back.

Heat burned up Keimwyda’s cheeks and onto her ears as a crimson blush set in. There was no music playing. She hadn’t danced at all in years, and never as a greeting. Her steps were halting and tentative. Her rhythm was all over the place. She realized she did not know how long she was expected to do this. She felt as if the eyes of every person in the camp—and perhaps a few animals for good measure—were boring holes straight into her very soul. After a few seconds she just… stopped. Was that… right? Was it enough?

“Um, hello… my name… ” she choked out through her embarrassment.

The sylph did not allow her to finish, speaking over her with an air of approving pomp. “This one would welcome walking one who moves like these ones. If walking one would talk to this one, this one will answer.”

Thank the gods.

Her eyes darted around the encampment once more. The researcher gave her a sympathetic smile. The Wood Wailer was plainly and unsubtly amused. Yda gave her a genuine grin and a fist pump into the air, and Papalymo wore a smirk that Keimwyda could not at all begin to parse.

As Keimwyda handed over the Seedseer’s letter, she contemplated wandering off into The Bramble Patch, never to show her face in civilization ever again.

#FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2023 #Keimwyda Sylbdhemwyn #roegadyn wol #sylphs #ARR timeline #hey there shy WoL let's throw you in a nightmare scenario as a baby adventurer #yes I'm trying to describe the goofy canonical femroe dance

4 notes · View notes

starlightswitch · 10 months

Text

On Top of Everything

(for Writer's Month day 2 prompt camping AU. The Missing Cousins Return is a Flash Fiction Friday piece from a while ago that I enjoyed, so I decided to retell it on a camping/hiking trip.)

Allie and Nathan had never been camping. Allie was pretty sure this was because Dad didn’t like camping.

Mom hadn’t actually said so, not even when she didn’t know Allie was listening, and she’d never heard her parents talk about going camping. But Mom talked about her family going camping when she was a kid, talked about it like she’d had a good time, which made it seem like she’d want to take her kids camping too. And there were plenty of other things Mom had said, when she didn’t know Allie was listening, that they didn’t do or stopped doing because Dad didn’t like them.

And now that Mom and Dad were divorced, here they were going on a big family camping trip Mom’s family did every couple of years. A camping trip Allie had never known about. A camping trip Mom had gone right out to buy sleeping bags and ground mats for.

The phone rang through the speaker and Mom took the call. “You’re on your way?” said a voice Allie didn’t know. “Not to rush you. Just wondering about the timing.”

“Almost there,” said Mom. The map said ten minutes to go.

“Okay, great. Some of us were going to go on a hike. I’ll tell them to wait until you get here.”

Allie wasn’t sure she wanted to go on a hike. Walking up a mountain sounded hard and kind of scary.

They turned in at the sign with the name of the park on it. There was a little building where Mom had to stop and show the reservation on her phone, and the person handed her a piece of paper with the date they were leaving, which Mom let Allie put on the dashboard. They followed the road across a bridge, then past a bunch of campsites. Some had RVs, some had tents, and some had something that was kind of like an RV on the bottom but a tent on the top. Like they were going to a house, Mom said “We’re looking for 27,” and Allie watched the posts at the front of the campsites and pointed out 27 when she saw it. Mom pulled forward and backed the car in.

“Tammy and Dave got 33 and 35 which are next to each other, so everyone’s hanging out there,” she explained when they were out of the car. Nathan reached for Mom’s hand, but Mom didn’t reach for Allie’s so Allie started walking on her own.

There were a lot of people in site 33. The adults were mostly standing in groups. Some of the kids were, too, but some of them were sitting on the ground playing with a dog, and some of them were playing around the trees between the site and the one next to it.

A girl about Allie’s age hopped up from where she’d been sitting, on the floor of the van parked there with her feet out the open door. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Mara.”

“Allie,” said Allie.

“I know. We were waiting for you guys.”

“Are you going hiking?” Allie gave her a long look, not sure what she was looking for. What did she expect someone her age who was going hiking to look like?

“Yep. I love hiking. And this trail is one of my favorites. It goes right up over the top of the mountain. Are you going?”

Right up over the top of the mountain sounded scarier than she’d even thought of. But Mara was going to do it, so it couldn’t be that hard, and she sounded so excited, and Allie didn’t want to say no to the first person who came up and talked to her. “Yeah, I’ll go. I’ve never actually been hiking before though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh,” said Mara, like she’d just realized that made sense.

Someone tapped Allie on the shoulder than, and it was Mom, saying that some of the younger kids including Nathan were staying here with Grandma and Grandpa so it was up to Allie if she wanted to go or not. Allie said, “No, I’m going,” nodding, trying to sound confident.

They rode over with Mara’s family– Mara had a little brother too. The first part of the trail was just a path up through the woods, surrounded by trees, and Allie started thinking hiking was pretty easy, actually. Mom had been talking to Mara’s mom and they must have fallen behind. Allie kept up with Mara; they were talking a little bit too.

The trail ended at a bunch of rocks, rocks that seemed to go all the way to the top of the mountain.

Everyone started climbing, so Allie did too.

It was fun, to her surprise, finding her way up the rocks. There were plenty of places to put her feet, and then she could grab the top of the next rock and pull herself up. And it wasn’t a really narrow mountain. She had probably been thinking of something she’d seen on TV once, a really narrow trail it would be easy to fall off. She wasn’t going to fall off the side of this mountain. She didn’t even really have to balance.

They reached some trees, and there was a little bit of a trail, and when they went out and up above the trees, they were on top of the mountain. The very top. Every direction was down, trees and rocks closer, and then lower mountains, and a valley with buildings, and more mountains in the distance.

And there was plenty of room to stand on the top of the mountain, so it wasn’t scary. It was just really, really cool.

“We should get our moms to take a picture of us,” said Mara.

“You don’t have a phone?”

“Not a smartphone. Mom says not until I’m in high school.”

“My mom too! Well, until I’m 13 but that’s really close to high school. Maybe she’ll give me one as a graduation present.”

As soon as their moms were in sight, Mara yelled to them asking if they would take the picture– interrupting her mom, who had turned to Allie’s and said, “We need to take a picture.”

“Put your arms around each other,” Mom said, getting out her phone. “This is just like a picture of the two of us when we were about your age.”

When it was taken, Mara said, “We should have a picture of you two then too. Put your arms around each other,” she instructed as she took the phone her mom held out, and Mom and Mara’s mom both grinned.

When that picture was taken, Mara’s mom said, “I’m glad you’re here,” and she and Mom shared a big hug.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mara said to Allie.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” said Allie. “Here, and also–” She pointed down and around, trying to indicate ‘on top of this mountain’.

“You like it?” Mara said with a smile.

Allie nodded firmly. “I think it might stay my favorite too.”

2020 Day 2: The Unforeseen and the Unforeseeable (quarantine)

2021 Day 2: A Collection of Doubts (cold)

2022 Day 2: Dancing on the Edge (chance + dancer AU) (one of my favorites!)

#writersmonth2023 #my writing

2 notes · View notes

brokenmusicboxwolfe · 1 year

Text

Sorry about the rambling. I dunno why I wrote so much, but I don’t want to consign it to the draft folder purgatory I only so recently purged.

Today, in the grocery store parking lot**, a truck transporting hogs had broken down.

I dunno if everyone knows what these trucks look like. They are double decker things, these slivery crates with the animals packed in tight. When I was little, before the road was four laned, the trucks would come right through the middle of the town, reeking of pig shit.

Actually, those trucks and those too tiny pig lots local farmers used to have had me assuming pigs naturally stunk. When my little Ryoga showed up I assumed I was going to just have to endure a terrible stench out by the pool. It turned out that if you actually give pigs enough space they don’t stink at all! Who knew!

Anyway, as the trucker worked on his engine the giant cage rattled as hogs moved about. You could see them, the side of a pig, an ear, just glimpses through the gaps. Every now and then a snout would stick out, sniffing at the air. Despite the fact there was the occasional unhappy squeal, the pigs probably didn’t know they are on their way to die, only they were packed in tight in a metal box, and now that they weren’t being jostled around they were baking in the sun and smelling the same horrible diesel exhaust that was choking me.

My god, Ryoga doesn’t know how lucky he was when he ran away and found me! That would have been his fate. He would have been butchered years ago.

Instead he has his cozy house surrounded by trees. He has a human that feeds him twice a day, gives him apples, shares her oranges with him, gives him newspapers to thrash to death, rubs his belly, and frets if he pulls a muscle or catches a cold.

I was buying him fresh wood chips, hog feed, and apples on this trip, while I watched his cousins becoming agitated in a truck that started rocking. I’d be petting and scratching at Ryoga, snuffling back at him face to face just a few hours later. And they would soon be dying.

Look, I get humans are omnivores. I am too. But I can’t stand the thought of eating bacon, ham, etc ever since Ryoga entered my life. It’s no different than how most people would never seriously entertain the idea of eating dogs or cats. I see those pigs, and I see my “little one”.

Ok, Ryoga isn’t exactly little anymore(my tusky buddy weighs much more than me), but he’ll always be “my little one”, the scrawny, battered, little piglet the size of a cat that took Mom and I by surprise late one October day. He’s special to me, but maybe some of those pigs on that truck are smart or silly or cute or playful too. It was just insane luck that he escaped and found me.

At Walmart two people held up signs begging for money, one someone that looked decidedly sickly who said they were disabled, the other a frail old woman, hunched over. Both looked sad, ashamed, and exhausted as they struggled at different ends of the parking lot to keep standing.

So very little separates me from them, as my body breaks and my bank account dwindles. My home is dilapidated, but it is a home. Many of the things my family left me a broken, but some work. I have a very meager allowance to survive on, but it has so far been enough to not quite starve. But how long before I have no livable house and not enough money to meet basic needs?

And it occurred to me that I was like Ryoga. We both got lucky. And loved.

He doesn’t appreciate it, of course, and has no concept of the precariousness of existence. If I die before him, he is probably doomed.

I was like that once too. Taking my family and the life they offered for granted, intellectually getting I was lucky, but emotionally incapable of truly predicting the future that lay ahead.

Like most animals I have a terrible problem of existing too much in the now, and almost paradoxically that has gotten worse now that the reality of my life has proven the folly of such a life. The trouble is, once I started falling there is no time or energy for planning or preparing when everything has become about surviving. How an I exist outside the now, when every moment yanks me back with a new crisis?

Today I watched pigs in a truck, on their way to slaughter, and people that life has crushed desperately hoping for a moment of anonymous kindness from people that would rather not make eye contact. And I feel all the luck I have, and all the fear of how it cam so easily slip away.

**Super stressful shopping trip. I was trying desperately to get the essentials on my list yet still save enough I could pay a certain bill due this month. The good news is I succeeded. The bad news is I may or may not be able to buy groceries for myself again this month! LOL (Don’t worry. The animals come first. )

#my day #pigs #life #and it’s opposite #Blame spring #I REALLY get depressed in spring!

2 notes · View notes

the-obiwan-for-me · 1 year

Note

1, 4, 11, 33, 34, for the ask game?

Oooo. Lots of questions. It's about to get weird in here.

1. Who is/are your comfort characters?

I mean, obviously Obi-Wan. The Kryze girls. Mace Windu. Kanan and Hera. The OT gang, especially Leia. Peli.

Outside of Star Wars, Leslie Knope and Ron Swanson (honestly, Nick Offerman, as a whole). Troy and Abed. The entire Rose family. President Jed Bartlett. Captain Holt. Spinal Tap. Vincent Vega and Jules. Inigo Montoya.

4. Which cryptid being do you believe in?

Ummmm......all of them? I mean, despite our ability to kill off thousands of species a day, we're also discovering new ones all the time (often just in time to kill them). Which goes to show that the Earth is BIG and mysterious and likes to keep her secrets. I absolutely can imagine there's some weird stuff skulking around in the woods, the mountains, and in the deep. Hell, Maryland fish and wildlife swore up and down that mountain lions hadn't been in the state for decades, despite multiple people on the farm I managed (and neighbors) seeing mountain lions in the forest around the farm.

I love the idea of Big Foot and was an avid fan of that silly show on Animal Planet years ago....Big Foot Hunters???? Or something? To this day, I still say to my horses "it's awfully Squatchy out there" when they're being unexplainably spooky.

Also, if you know anything about Mothman, you may also know that there's some supposed connection to Mothman and the Silver Bridge collapse in 1967. My mom took the same bus from college at Marshal University back to her hometown, which always took her across the Silver Bridge. However, when she went home that day, she ended up somehow on an express bus....that didn't go through Point Pleasant and over the bridge. She should have been on that bridge when it collapsed. Her parents thought she was, until she showed up at the bus station later that evening.

11. Favorite extracurricular activity.

Alone, time with my horse, hiking with my dog.

With friends or my guy, exploring our town or going hiking and/or gator hunting (pics only, obviously). I'm firmly a mountain girl, but I am falling in love with the strange wildness of Florida. Please admire some of the large bebes we saw on our last gator adventure (we saw SIXTEEN).

33. Last adventure you went on.

Anything can be an adventure with the right mindset! The guy and I went vintage shopping and thrifting on Saturday. He bought me a piece of reclaimed wood that spoke to me (he does woodworking. Still waiting to hear what the piece of wood wants to become). We went to Lowes and I was left unattended with the "rescue" plants. My collection grows. That was all an adventure!

We went to Savannah recently and learned that we're too old for NYE parties on boats (because you can't go to bed when you get tired before midnight 😂).

My dog and I went on a nice road trip in October. It was cold, but we got some really impressive mountains in peak fall foliage.

34. Is there a song you know every word by heart?

Several! Quite a few! Bohemian Rhapsody is one, as well as my favorite Queen song, I Want to Break Free. My all time favorite song is California Stars by Wilco (lyrics are actually by Woody Guthrie). I know it all. And the entirety of the Phantom of the Opera is burned into my skull because I was OBSESSED with it as a kid (how did we not know I was ND?).

More questions to find out how weird I am here!

#ask me almost anything #ask game

2 notes · View notes

crownamedblue · 1 year

Text

It’s funny, they’ve given up on screaming, and that almost makes it worse. In grandfather’s day, they called them ghosts, and it made sense. Back then, when it all started, they screamed and wept and begged, but in the guttural sense that was more hiccuping sobs than actual words. Common consensus is they didn’t know how to speak back then. It probably helped that they were ignored for literal years. The voices started one night, late in august. At first, only those near the California redwoods could hear them, but just like the fires, it spread quickly. Within a month, anywhere there were woods there were late night voices. Within a year they were everywhere, from the densest urban city to the two lane main road towns, where the ground was loose and the closest thing to a tree was the wooden pole up your conservative neighbors ass. Believe it or not, but it got easier to ignore when people started disappearing. There was all sorts of research, and the correlation between densely packed woods and the voices was obvious, but it just sorta drifted out of the public consciousness when no new information came. When the homeless started disappearing, it became even easier to ignore, especially with almost every politician covering it up as much as possible. People did ask questions, but it was the sort of people who had too much time on their hands and were looking for something to be scared of. “Just don’t think about it” whispered back the ‘rational’ folk, who desperately wished they could follow their own advice.

It worked, for a while, sweeping everything under the rug like this, but then other people started vanishing too, people who were deemed more important, so the President stepped in. He weighed his decision, took his time, and gave an important announcement, one that was beamed to every screen in every home, and everyone who wanted answers —and it was everyone— could finally get some. His statement? “Nothing is going on (there definitely was), my scientists say that’s it's an invasive species of bird from China (they most definitely did not), there is nothing to worry about (factually false), but just in case, it is my personal suggestion that a curfew is followed (the only sensible thing he said all broadcast). It probably helped that one of the disappearances was a senator from the opposing party. This calm lasted a few months, at most, but then the President’s daughter was at a party late at night, and, even later at night, was nowhere at all. As expected, the news took the country by storm, and the curfew was no longer a suggestion. The Nightlife policy barely needed to be enforced, no one except the suicidal wanted to disappear, after all.

To mom, they were never called ghosts: they were called sirens. I guess they must have figured out that screams and sobs weren’t getting anyone to go outside anymore, so they switched tactics. They must’ve not learned our language yet, because she always described them as wordless songs, beautiful, heart wrenching, listless melodies. A new issue sprung up, however, in mom’s late thirties. They figured out how to cover their tracks. Before then, it was just the people who disappeared: just them and whatever they had on their person. Mom remembers when the first vanished car was reported. It was one of those family vans, with the heated seats and the cracked screen that played movies for the kids in the third row, and windows that only rolled up if you hit the button just so. They were on a road trip, and before then people in cars were safe. It was about midnight, alone, going through a rural area. Mom says she remembers thinking about it, holding me as an infant, the warm circles of street lamps flashing overhead, momentarily illuminating the children in the back seat. Apparently the little girl was a big reader, and one of the farmers reported seeing her flashlight in the back window as the family drove past. Light for a few, dark, the characters are still talking, the girl wishes they would kiss again, light, dark, the mother and father are talking about how they should go on a date night after they drop the kids off, light, dark, the girl’s brother is asleep, and the girl’s sibling is poking him, light, dark, the girl really doesn’t know what to make of her used-to-be-but-never-really-was-sister, light, dark, she’s happy for them though, the girl and the sibling joke about how the sirens vanished the sibling’s gender, light, dark, gone. It was a mile of dead space, a mile between one farm and the next, a mile between sight and human awareness. A mile is all it took for an entire family and their run-down family van to disappear. It was the first recorded vehicular vanishing, but it was not the last.

Nightlife was swiftly updated: you are no longer safe in your car, or with others. I think we really took that for granted, that so long as you were with someone, or were somewhere closed off, you were safe. It didn’t help that the vanishings were more often now. It especially didn’t help that the voices must have learned from their experience. I think it says something that they figured out how to vanish a car before they figured out English. I think it especially says something that they could vanish the inhabitants of an entire house before they could do basic conjugation. It was no longer safe to open a door, or even a window at night. I think the worst part is how good the sirens were at covering their tracks. With cars, they’d just take the car, but with houses? With houses they’d somehow be able to set everything up so that it looks as if the inhabitants had just left early that morning. No stoves left on, nothing important left behind, no food left half eaten. I think they really started to get into it then, really enjoyed just fucking with us. Sometimes they’d run the dishwasher or clothes dryer, even if there was nothing in it. Especially if there was nothing in it. This created the Locked Door policy. When dusk hits, no one goes in, no one goes out, close the windows, lock the doors, and pretend you don’t hear shit.

Around five and a half years ago, it got a lot harder. My generation calls them changelings now. They fucking learned to speak, and they sound just like us. And its not like they’re restrained to the vanished either, just the other night I heard my voice on the other side of that door asking to be let in. Shits freaky dude. They’ll respond too, try to convince you to crack a window. Apparently the one following my friend Tracy is a bit of a dick, constantly yawning, trying to get her to yawn. I guess the strategy is to piss her off so much she opens the door just to take a swing at the bastard. Honest to god, I think it’s working. We’ve tried everything to make the voices leave, but the few who acknowledge that they’re not human only do it to mock you or to tempt you with more answers if you just unscrewed the doggy flap. Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d say: the number of not-casualties, cause we don’t know if they’re dead, involving cat flaps is fucking insane. Some religions popped up, following the changelings, but a religion devoted to following voices whose sole intention is to make you disappear isn't bound to last long. It also didn’t change anything, except for empty out a few chapels. You know what? No, fuck it. I said that the fact that they’re not screaming almost makes it worse. Fuck that noise, it does make it worse, cause if they were screaming I wouldn’t have to hear my baby sister, vanished when she was a toddler. If they were sobbing, I wouldn’t have to hear my mom, who wasn’t vanished in the voices way, but in the dementia way. She doesn’t even remember my name, and the changelings most certainly do. It’s not almost worse, it is worse, it is definitively worse. No, no, I’m done, I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to leave my oven on or hide my iron or some shit, maybe the house will go up in flames while they’re trying to cover their tracks. If I’m opening the door, maybe I’ll take some with me.

Thanks for the gift, the oven being set to 666 was cute. Shame how you never posted this though, don’t worry, we’ll do it for you.

#my writing #short story #i don’t even know #horror?#the voices *will* steal yo man #crowfeatherquill

1 note · View note

halfwaytofreedom · 2 months

Text

December 28, Raleigh

This starts as my train pulls in around 10am. I had about five hours sitting in the Raleigh train station. This is by design...

I must make it clear: I don't hold it against anyone that they couldn't meet me on my trip across the country. I was in town for one day or less, every day, and I didn't tell many people. I was running for my life, and anyone I saw caught a glimpse of me at my worst. No shame if you missed me.

I had made separate plans to meet two different people in Raleigh. Both of them were valuable to me; I'd been hiding in my house for almost nine months, and they were two of the very few friends I had on Facebook. My therapist reminded me: It's hard to meet someone, within a day, with less than a week's notice. Neither of my Raleigh contacts could make it.

I missed them, and I missed everyone in that moment. This was day one of homelessness; I couldn't go back to Florida, and there was no one ready in Charlotte yet either. I rolled into Raleigh alone.

I texted a friend who went to college out here; seeing the UNC banners, I thought he might have an idea of something to do or someone to meet. No such luck. Raleigh was 100% by myself.

This train platform and station were unique. Sometime in the past year, they had rebuilt this train station into a big glass-and-neon spectacle. The train actually doesn't go near the building, but instead passes across the street. Disembarking from my Silver Star, I walked my two bags down to...the luggage cart, and stood next to it.

"Don't take your bags yet!" the baggage attendant barked. I acknowledged. "I'm watching you!" I replied, "I don't even have hands to carry it." (shrug). We chuckled. The truth is, I wasn't taking my bags at all. I just thought it was better use to stand next to them.

A golf cart pulled up next to me. Let me point out that I was standing alone with a cane, so I looked like I could use the help. "I'll take you over." I had no idea what "over" meant, because I'd never been here before. Still, I obediently got on the cart, and we rolled away from my bags.

The Raleigh station has a tunnel, wide enough for a golf cart or narrow luggage cart and not much more. It goes under the road, and over to the ground entrance. If you were walking, you'd walk through this tunnel then up another ramp to get into the beautiful, well-equipped building.

The building had neon, and glass, and many wood finishes and padded seats. Vending machines, counters with charger outlets, and even a cart vendor. Still - it was an island. To leave the station, you needed to take an elevator or a ramp. To go outside for a smoke, you had to walk a 100ft ramp across the front to an overlook, far from every door, to meet the clean air laws. It was a beautiful building with no connection to the city or the rail line.

I was thankful I didn't have to keep my checked bags; they kept themselves while I waited with my too-many bags in the nicely equipped room. It wasn't equipped enough, though, and I started Google Maps up on my phone to find my way to lunch. It wasn't 11am yet, would there be anything?

No, but it would take me 15+ minutes to walk there. I found a food court down the street. I took an elevator to the first floor, then a dusty, dirty walk underneath the rail and across a loading dock before I got to any city buildings. Once I was in the city, though, everything was level, so rolling my personal bag wasn't TOO bad.

I wound up leaving my bags at the table while I ordered my food-court burger though. More neon, more fashionable signs, and I was definitely the first person they saw this morning. I was happy to get my burger, though it hurt every single time I had to break a bill. Remember, I had to cross the country with less than $500.

Hung out for an hour in that food court with my burger; it was cold, almost freezing, I was glad to be indoors. I wasn't looking forward to the windy walk back under the rail and across the loading dock.

For illustrative purposes: the white building to the leftmost is the station. The rail I came in on is at the bottom of the picture. The burger place is off the picture to the right. I walked from the white building, under that other rail line, across the street. It's OK - the only cars that showed up were heading to the train station, and no one rides the train lol.

After my burger, I rolled my bag and backpack up the long ramp to the overlook to have a smoke. Finally. After maybe 16 hours of being smoke free, I needed something fresh. The rooftop has a few signs illustrating the green rooftop garden. You can see it in the picture, the green strip over the tunnel. It's December in Raleigh, though: nothing was growing. It was brown and grey and empty. I enjoyed the fresh air, but there wasn't any bright sunny scenery.

Let's add that I was still very paranoid, too: I expected, at any moment, that someone would show up and arrest me for smoking, even though this overlook was CLEARLY designed to be far from the entrances. I just shivered with my too-heavy bags and finished my smoke.

After 100ft of walking down a ramp, I was back in the isolated building. I was very happy for the high-top tables where I could set up this laptop, charge what I needed, and wait. But...man, my back hurt. I wanted to lie down.

Good news, I could lie down on the softer seating they had inside, but I didn't want to seem like I was some lurker or homeless guy. (I was a homeless guy, but I had a train ticket.) I set up out-of-view of the clerk and security, in a scarce corner, and left my bags so I could wander and/or stretch out my back. It was a long four-ish hours of waiting for my train: an NCDOT special, the Piedmont, which was a direct line, endpoints in Raleigh to Charlotte.

This train was a point of pride for the state, it seems. The train cars were named after North Carolina icons; I believe mine was the Gray Squirrel. It had the white star and blue coloring to match the NC Flag. I watched it sit in the station for hours, waiting for its next batch of passengers. Other trains went by, but this one specifically sat in the station waiting for us. I took a picture, had to verify that this really was the right train.

Five trains run this same route every day; how did this one sit in the station for two hours?

Regardless, this was well-equipped, with wide seats. I was ready when they opened the big double-doors to let us go up the ramp and load in. Not very many people boarded, and there were even fabric headrest covers. A very nice ride...but no checked bags. My own checked baggage must have rolled ahead of me on a different train!

I put my own bag on the overhead rack, and settled in. No one sat next to me the whole time. It was about a three-hour ride, and I watched it get dark as I came in.

Charlotte itself was a bear...lots of people coming in and going out. My bags were waiting on the luggage cart, just like I saw them before, but this time sitting alone. The luggage attendant even commented, "I thought they were left behind! After this train, they would have been." Apparently, they weren't supposed to check the bags to Charlotte, because I had two separate tickets and should have checked them twice. All's well that ends well, though; I took my two lonely bags off the cart and rolled on out.

Into the dark, to meet my dear friend Christine. She and her partner were there just in time to meet me. Not much waiting, not much walking with my bags, just in and out of Charlotte station. I'd get more familiar with it in another week. For now, I just got to enjoy a week's break from traveling.

#amtrak #piedmont

0 notes

caribouv · 4 months

Text

2023 BEST

+ ALBUM

Bottoms - Charli XCX. I don't know if a movie's score counts as an album, but this is the easy winner.

Fantasy - M83. I still can't get over Oceans Niagara and the music video. Beyond adventure, indeed.

The Whaler - Home is Where.

Javelin - Sufjan Stevens.

+ SONG

Jeff Rosenstock - LIKED U BETTER.

Afroman - Will You Help Me Repair My Door. The song is generally mid, but the background story behind it makes it amazing.

+ RECORD / COVER

I listened to too many mixes and sets without paying attention to records this year. I've got nothing.

+ SET/MIX/SHOW

Black Country, New Road - Live at Bush Hall. CLASS OF 81', LISTEN TO YOUR PROM KING!!! FUCK THE DEAN!!!

Chlär | Boiler Room x Glitch Festival 2023. This dude is changing techno in a big way. Loops loops loops lopps lopsodfpsopsofpsoo spooop loops.

LDS - HATE Podcast 340.

Pretty Pink - Deep Woods Radio. Girl was on point all year. There's probably better deep trance/house than this, but I'm too lazy to find it and this easily made me happy.

+ MOVIE

Talk to Me. Nothing comes close. This movie is perfection. Foreshadowing, details, subtely, so many layers, so much to think about. It's like Starship Troopers in that it's only a a dumb action / scary movie on first glance, but then you realize all the hidden meaning to it there in every scene.

Bottoms.

Nimona.

Killers of the Flower Moon.

Godzilla Minus One.

Stuff I loved, but only got to in 2023: Okja, The Wailing, Shiva Baby.

Long list piling up I haven't got to yet: Holdovers, Ninja Turtles, Smoking Causes Coughing, She Came to Be, 65, Infinity Pool, Past Lives, Suzume, Mad God, Saltburn, The Boy and the Heron, Argentina 1985, Close, Stars End, Hundreds of Beavers, Joyland, Fabelmans, Challengers.

+ TV SHOW

Vox Machina s2. Easy winner. Nothing else comes close. This is so good. They could and should just push s1 and s2 together seamlessly and release it all as a movie.

Foundation s1. This whole thing is gorgeously shot. Whoever did the storyboard / director of photography is brilliant.

Station Eleven

The Mole

Traitors AUS

SWARM. Before watching I wish someone would have told me the soft spoiler that she's a confused lesbian and the orphaned sister of her friend. It would have helped me understand/get past what were mistakenly viewed as gross and cringe scenes.

Last of US

Snake in the Grass

Y The Last Man. I liked it better than the books simply because the sister's story arc is more believeable and enjoyable. Really sad s2 isn't going to be a thing.

+ VIDEO GAME

Baldur's Gate 3. It's more Div Sin 5e than BG3, but still a phenomenal game. Organizing things by: action, bonus action, and free action has been a wild ephiphany and game changer for me at D&D night.

Dead by Daylight. Another year, another me. No change there. Nicolas Cage, Xenomorph, Ripley, Jonsie, Chucky, the return of Stranger Things… This game just keeps winning. I got burned out in late 2023 and haven't really touched it much since Summer, but this is easily one of the greatest games ever made for me.

WOW Season of Discovery. Injecting WOTLK gameplay systems into Classic? It's so simple and yet so fun.

Going Medieval. As they continue to develop this it's just going to get better and better and better.

+ BOOK

Y The Last Man. Poured through these. Politically… meh. I still liked them.

Book 12 WOT. I also started reading Red Rising becuase I wanted something easy, but that was a mistake because it's too teenage for even me. I also think for 2024 I'm going to switch to standalones and not big 3+ epics because it seriously took me like 2 years to get through WOT and I'm not sure it was worth it.

+ PERSON

Anyone, anywhere who stood out and spoke out against the IOF's genocide in Gaza.

+ FOOD

Butter chicken. Please help me stop eating so much butter chicken I have spent a small fortune at my local indian restaurant buying and eating butter chicken.

+ TRIP

The camping trips this year were fun af, stoked for this upcoming Spring and Summer. Started to get antsy late Summer and started regularly taking daytrips to mid/downtown almost every weekend as well.

+ MOMENT

What a year for US labor. UPS, SAG/WGA, UAW, etc. Syndicalists keep winning.

+ BIGGEST LET DOWN

Fetterman. What an absolute fucking loser. Not "loser" as an insult, but loser as in he lost. His leftist base got him into power, and yet he immediately betrayed them because he's afraid of the DNC+AIPAC and wants to keep his job 5.5 years from now. BITCH YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS. YOUR BASE NOW HATES YOU. AIPAC WILL ALWAYS HATE YOU. THE DNC WILL ALWAYS HATE YOU. YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL FOR GENOCIDE AND GOT CORN CHIPS FOR IT. I absolutely mean it when I say I hope he kills himself.

WOT s2. What the fuck did I even watch what the fuck was that? I know and truly understand adaptation means it can't follow the story, but what was this???? Why did badass women become a bunch of weak fragile pathetic pissy dumbshits who can't do shit????? Fuck this show.

Theme of the year: I don't have a theme. Personally, I had a pretty good year. US Labor had a very, very good year. CPI inflation, Ukraine, and Gaza were fucking horrible. 2023 was strange and mostly terrible.

Goals for 2024: Don't get stuck in a rut. Learn/perfect how to make various indian and thai dishes. Fix my pinball machine. Get 100k+ in DigDug.

0 notes