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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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$100 billion later, autonomous vehicles are still a car-wreck

Autonomous vehicles were always a shell-game. The last time I wrote about them was a year ago, when Uber declared massive losses. Uber’s profitability story was always, “Sure, we’re losing money now, but once we create self-driving cars, we can fire our drivers and make a bundle.”

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/30/death-to-all-monopoly/#pogo-stick-problem

But Uber never came close to building an AV. After blowing $2.5b, the company invented a car whose mean-distance-to-fatal-crash was half a mile. Uber had to pay another company — $400 million! — to take the self-driving unit off its hands.

It’s tempting to say that Uber just deluded itself into thinking that AVs were a viable, near-term technology. But $2.5b was a bargain, because it allowed the company’s original investors (notably the Saudi royals) to offload their Uber shares on credulous suckers when the company IPOed.

Likewise Tesla, a company that has promised fully self-driving autonomous vehicles “within two years” for more than a decade. The story that Teslas will someday drive themselves is key to attracting retail investors to the company.

Tesla’s overvaluation isn’t solely a product of the cult of personality around Musk, nor is it just that its investors can’t read a balance-sheet and so miss the fact that the company is reliant upon selling the carbon-credits that allow gas-guzzling SUVs to fill America’s streets.

Key to Tesla’s claims to eventual profitability was that AVs would overcome geometry itself, and end the Red Queen’s Race whereby adding more cars to the road means you need more roads, which means everything gets farther apart, which means you need more cars — lather, rinse, repeat.

Geometry hates cars, but Elon Musk hates public transit (he says you might end up seated next to “a serial killer”). So Musk spun this story where tightly orchestrated AVs would best geometry and create big cities served speedy, individualized private vehicles. You could even make passive income from your Tesla, turning it over to drive strangers (including, presumably, serial killers?) around as a taxicab.

But Teslas are no closer to full self-driving than Ubers. In fact, no one has come close to making an AV. In a characteristically brilliant and scorching article for Bloomberg, Max Chafkin takes stock of the failed AV project:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2022-10-06/even-after-100-billion-self-driving-cars-are-going-nowhere

Chafkin calculates that the global R&D budget for AVs has now exceeded $100 billion, and demonstrates that we have next to nothing to show for it, and that whatever you think you know about AV success is just spin, hype and bullshit.

Take the much-vaunted terribleness of human drivers, which the AV industry likes to tout. It’s true that the other dumdums on the road cutting you off and changing lanes without their turn-signals are pretty bad drivers, but actual, professional drivers are amazing. The average school-bus driver clocks up 500 million miles without a fatal crash (but of course, bus drivers are part of the public transit system).

Even dopes like you and me are better than you may think — while cars do kill the shit out of Americans, it’s because Americans drive so goddamned much. US traffic deaths are a mere one per 100 million miles driven, and most of those deaths are due to recklessness, not inability. Drunks, speeders, texters and sleepy drivers cause traffic fatalities — they may be skilled drivers, but they are also reckless.

But even the most reckless driver is safer than a driverless car, which “lasts a few seconds before crapping out.” The best robot drivers are Waymos, which mostly operate in the sunbelt, “because they still can’t handle weather patterns trickier than Partly Cloudy.”

Waymo claims to have driven 20m miles — that is, 4% of the distance we’d expect a human school-bus driver to go before having a fatal wreck. Tesla, meanwhile, has stopped even reporting how many miles its autopilot has mananged on public roads. The last time it disclosed, in 2019, the total was zero.

Using “deep learning” to solve the problems of self-driving cars is a dead-end. As NYU psych prof Gary Marcus told Chafkin, “deep learning is something similar to memorization…It only works if the situations are sufficiently akin.”

Which is why self-driving cars are so useless when they come up against something unexpected — human drivers weaving through traffic, cyclists, an eagle, a drone, a low-flying plane, a deer, even some pigeons on the road.

Self-driving car huxters call this “the pogo-stick problem” — as in “you never can tell when someone will try to cross the road on a pogo-stick.” They propose coming up with strict rules for humans to make life easier for robots.

https://www.theverge.com/2018/7/3/17530232/self-driving-ai-winter-full-autonomy-waymo-tesla-uber

But as stupid as this is, it’s even stupider than it appears at first blush. It’s not that AVs are confused by pogo sticks — they’re confused by shadowsand clouds and squirrels. They’re confused by left turns that are a little different than the last left turn they tried.

If you’ve been thinking that AVs were right around the corner, don’t feel too foolish. The AV companies have certainly acted like they believed their own bullshit. Chafkin reminds us of the high-stakes litigation when AV engineer Anthony Levandowski left Google for Uber and was sued for stealing trade secrets.

The result was millions in fines (Levandowski declared bankruptcy) and even a prison sentence for Levandowski (Trump pardoned him, seemingly at the behest of Peter Thiel and other Trumpist tech cronies). Why would companies go to all that trouble if they weren’t serious about their own claims?

It’s possible that they are, but that doesn’t mean we have to take those claims at face-value ourselves. Companies often get high on their own supplies. The litigation over Levandowski can be thought of as a species of criti-hype, Lee Vinsel’s extraordinarily useful term for criticism that serves to bolster the claims of its target:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/02/euthanize-rentiers/#dont-believe-the-hype

Another example of criti-hype: the claims about the risks of ubiquitous drone delivery — which, like AVs, is half-bullshit, half self-delusion:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#droned

Today, Levandowski has scaled back his plans to build autonomous vehicles. Instead, he’s built autonomous dump-trucks that never leave a literal sandbox, and trundle back and forth on the same road all day, moving rocks from a pit to a crusher.

$100 billion later, that’s what the AV market has produced.

Image:

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

Gartner (modified): https://www.gartner.com/en/research/methodologies/gartner-hype-cycle

[Image ID: A chart illustrating the Gartner hype-cycle; racing down the slope from the 'peak of inflated expectations' to the 'trough of disillusionment' is the staring eye of HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, chased by speed-lines.]

#pluralistic

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promptful · 1 year

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Literally Sleeping Together Prompts

it's cute, lol.

WARNINGS: Suggestive. Nightmares. Parents fighting.

1) We’re sleeping over at a friend’s house, but both the bed and the couch are taken. We end up on the floor in a cocoon of blankets. And, I don’t know how we got here, but I woke up with your chest pressed to my back.

2) Preferring to sleep with the other person even though there’s another bed open.

3) After a “there’s only one bed” kind of event, I slept next to you. But now, my bed seems so empty, and yours seems so comfortable.

4) I’m damn freezing, and I know you run warm. You wouldn’t mind if I…

5) One character falling asleep watching the other’s chest rise and fall—basking in the vulnerability of it all.

6) We’re only halfway through our road trip, and there’s no hotel for miles. Thankfully, the trunk is wide open, and I have a few blankets.

7) This marriage has been nothing but a fake since the start. But we’re staying over at your parent’s home, and they’re expecting us to act like we’re in love… which side of the bed are you, regretfully, taking?

8) I fell asleep on the couch because I’m sick, and it’s the only way I’ve been able to fall asleep. I woke to you sleeping on the floor next to me.

9) Nightmares have been coming and going for me all night, but you offer to watch over me and “keep them away.” I know you’re not going to make it five minutes, but thank you.

10) As a bodyguard, you’ve been posted in my bedroom. Just… come sleep next to me. That way I can be safe, and you can be comfortable. Deal?

11) I may hate your guts, but I’m not going to just leave you here when you’re like that. Roll over.

12) Rain is pouring down the windows, and I have no will to go out. Neither do you, coincidentally. Curled around each other, we fall asleep to the television murmuring.

13) You’ve just come home from work, and are obviously worked up. In an attempt to distract you, I’m running my fingers down your chest, across your belt, down your sides, but you stop me. Embarrassed, you admit you just want to be held, maybe even to fall asleep in my arms. Never be embarrassed about that.

14) “What are we?” you asked, curled around me and buried underneath the sheets. “I don’t know,” I responded, listening to your heart. Do friends usually snuggle until the sun rises over the horizon?

15) The rings underneath your eyes are terrifying. Sit your ass down and go to sleep. And to make sure that you actually sleep, I’ll be right here beside you.

16) All the other hotel rooms are booked, and even though you are my ex, I would rather sleep next to you than a stranger, or even go back out into the snow. Move over, and let’s not talk about it.

17) You’re seriously allergic to the softener the cabin uses on their sheets. Thankfully, I bring my own—let me just move over.

18) I’ll kill your friends for showing you that horror movie with the knowledge that you scare easily, but for now, let me hold you and promise that the monsters underneath the bed don’t exist.

19) My neighbors are partying. Let me sleep over. Please.

20) It’s 2 a.m. but you call, asking if you can sleep over because your parents are fighting. Oh, darling…

#prompt list #writing prompt #writing prompts #writeblr #writing #story prompt #story ideas #cw: suggestive #cw: spicy #tw: nightmares #tw: suggestive #p.

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literally-noone83 · 5 months

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Something Childish

Geto×Reader Nanami×Reader

Warning: None.

Word count: Short.

a/n: Trying to keep my pieces smaller, my ideas more manageable (I have about a thousand unfinished works). Anyways, just some unrequited love, babies. My fav. Enjoy babes.

"Wha- Nanamin?!"

"Wait seriously??"

"You like-"

You slap your hand over Gojo's big mouth.

"Could you say that any louder?" you hiss at him.

Like a child whispering gossip at the playground he repeats himself, "You have a crush on Nanamin?"

You tsk your tongue at him, shoving his face back with your whole hand. His piss-poor attempt to lower his voice make your cheeks flush and your brows pinch in frustration.

"What? It's not like he's gonna hear us." Gojo argues, glancing at the convenient store across from them. You three stood by the bared rail that separated ongoing city goers and the busy roads of Tokyo. You gripped at it tightly, refusing to look at either of Geto or Gojo that caged you, or towards the door of the store you knew Nanami and Haibura were in buying snacks.

"He could come out at any moment"

Geto was silent. He noticed the way you swayed, the way you looked so nervous. You were never this nervous, not even on missions.

"Or hear your big mouth from a mile away"

"I can't believe you like emo boy-"

You smack his arm. "Don't call him that"

Your defence for Nanami wasn't unfamiliar. You often stood up for him, as you did for anybody who was teased or judged. Under new light of information, the boys looked to see it was affection. A sudden feeling of stupidity washes over Geto, he should've known.

"Do you... really like him?" He asked.

"No- Yes, I mean... maybe?" You let out a curt sigh, "I don't know, I've liked him for a while..."

Your two best friends glanced at each other before gazing back down to you, they were thinking the same thing.

Geto began gently, warry of your sensitivity. "How come-"

"And you never told us??" Gentleness goes amiss with Gojo, as his questions is more accusing than worried.

"I- it just never came up ok?! Its not like you guys tell me your crushes or- or any arising infactuations"

"Yes I do!"

"No you don't" You throw an incredulous look at the white haired deliquent. Geto quietly sighs.

"Yes I do! I tell you all my fancies." He crosses his arms.

"You tell me girls you think are hot, not girls you like, dimwit, there's a difference."

"Ok maybe I dont get crushes- but I'm sure Suguru does!" He throws his hands at Geto, and you glance at him. Geto blinks, his face flushing slightly.

"Oh stop it! Jeez when did you guys become to invested in my love life?" You leant on the rail once more in resignation.

"Uh when you started liking one of our friends, fucking Nanamin"

"Saturou"

"What?"

Geto shoots him a silently reprimanding look Gojo knew a little too well. He relents with an eye roll, begrudgingly turning away from you to lean his back on the metal. Geto's gaze softens as he refocuses on you, silence finally settling upon them.

He hears you groan into your arms, evidently regretting ever telling them.

Seeing you this riled up was new. This stressed over a crush of all things he never knew you'd have. Not that he thought you weren't capable of having one, you have feels and emotions, you're a human being, of course at some point you'd like someone, anyone it's just-

Geto blinked away his thoughts. Its just... Crushes felt childish, and you were everything but. You were always pragmatic on missions, meticulous and calculating when it came to every plan and every detail, you scoffed at nearly every romance Gojo tried forcing you to watch with him, you had these walls up; ones that only came down around them. Around him. Because that was just how you were, but here you are, getting embarrassed over something as simple as a crush and Geto couldn't help but feel sympathy.

He places a hand on you shoulder.

"Hey... you know you can tell us these things right? I mean you don't have to but..." Geto lowered his head just to catch your strayed gaze, "We're friends, yea? Nothing to be embarrassed about." His words are soft and sweet, and he offers a smile that's kind and genuine once you finally meet his eyes. The corner of your lips pulls into a small appreciative smile the way he likes to see it, knowing he's got your sweet spot. He always did.

You place a hand over his, that makes his skin tingle with goosebumps, and your lips part to say something,

"Suguru-"

The door of the convenient store dings, "We got snacks!!" Haibura's sing-song voice erupt in the pathway exiting the store with a ding, pulling your attention away from Geto.

Another ding and Gojo jumps towards the shorter second year who's quick to dish out the goods that was requested. Geto flashes a polite smile as he's handed his ongiri, but his eyes keep wandering back to you. You're gaze is elsewhere and he follows it to Nanami who took his time to give thanks to the cashier, holding an extra few treats.

Recognition flickers across his eyes. It's the milky pink popsicle - strawberry, your favourite. The same one he bought you every time he went out, thinking of his friends as always. Thinking of you, always.

He catches the way you two exchange words. The way Nanami rubbed the back of his neck as he gave you the treat, trying his hardest to keep his composure. The way you look up at him surprised, yet quick to blink away your expressions. You avoid eye contact with the blonde before you, and your voice rises into a slightly high pitch than Geto is used to. If he wasn't so caught up in the unfamiliar sight, he would have laughed, teased you. But all he can think about is how foolish he was to not have picked up the signs earlier... not picked up the fact that you liked someone else.

"Ok let's go! Before we miss our train." Haibura chimes. Geto is ripped from his thoughts at the round of 'ok!'s from everyone. "Ok," His delayed response goes unnoticed. Nanami and you lead the group, an awkward walk as you politely chat.

"Wait guys! Wait up-" Gojo grabs Haibura from running up to them, covering his mouth.

"Shhh," He presses a finger against his lips, tightly gripping his jacket to stay between the seniors. "Let them have their moment, yea?" His pats the smaller friend's chest, a stunned look on his face.

"Moment? What do you-" He gasps, "Does Y/n like Nanami?"

"Quiet, Child, they'll hear you."

"Gojo tell me!"

"I made a vow to never tell"

"Gojooo!"

While Haibura pesters Gojo with questions, their words seem to blur and fade into the back as his focus lays on you. He couldn't seem to look away. Even under the sunsetting sunlight, the smile you offered glowed all the more. His eyes traced your lips as they moved, inaudible words Geto silently wish he could hear in that moment. He noted the way the corner of your eyes crinkled, grinning so wide at something Nanami said until your eyes disappeared into moon crescent shapes he loved. Your head tilted the way he knew you to do just to let someone silently know you're listening. He watched as you threw your head back laughing, a genuine laugh he knew the sound of too well, only to count the seconds before you're lifting a hand to cover your mouth - a habit he didn't like. From afar, he still had the reflexive urge to reach up and pull away your hand gently just to hear you properly, but he settles with digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

Gojo was right, this was your moment. But despite tearing his gaze from you, it flickered back to your face. For once he finally took notice; he could see it in your eyes that the walls were, too, crumbling. For someone other than him. It was moments like these, when his heart raced a little just because you smiled and time seemed to slow down as your eyes lit up.

Sometimes, Geto felt pretty childish himself.

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zialltops · 5 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second you tell your parents that he left you there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #archive of our own #joel the last of us #joel tlou #rancher joel #joel miller moodboard #cowboy joel miller

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daisyblog · 1 year

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Never Have I Ever

Our Story Masterlist Summary: One Direction are guests on The Jonathan Ross Show, where they play a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ and Harry gets embarrassed in front of his girlfriend's brother and bandmate. *** “Ah so first of all lovely to have you back here boys” Jonathan welcomed the four boys as they sat on the mustard sofa, with Michael Mcintyre sitting on the end. Jonathan began by reminding the boys about Niall needing to go to the toilet when they were last on the show but ended up having to wait 20 minutes to go.

“So you’ve just finished..am I right now this was your fourth world tour?” the boys nodded “What do you miss when you’re away…and what is it when you finish..what do you think okay I now have the time to do this that I couldn’t do when I was on the road?” the host rambled.

Liam began explaining that staying in hotels and not having a fridge and it’s nice to have that luxury when he’s home, to which Michael interrupted and explained that there are fridges in hotel rooms under the TV, which made the audience laugh and the boys joined in. Louis added that he enjoys playing football when he’s home because he doesn’t get a lot of time to play when he’s on the road. “Harry?” Jonathan said as a way of asking him the question. Harry thought about his answer “I feel like mines a bit boring…I just like to relax I suppose..and just like enjoy some quiet time” Louis began to chuckle beside Harry at his answer “Mate..there’s no way you’re getting any quiet time wiv YN” to which the others joined in the laughter, including Harry.

“It’s like living with Louis I suppose..is it Harry?” the host questioned. “No comment” Harry replied and the audience laughed. “I guess I..just like home cooking..like your mum’s cooking and stuff like that” Niall answered. --- “Let’s take a break..we’ll chat some more afterwards and we’ve got a fun thing..I’ve asked fans in the audience to give us a list of things, we’re gonna play that game Never Have I Ever” Jonathan announced. “Oh god” Harry said with a nervous expression.

The host welcomed the audience back from the break and explained the game of Never Have I Ever to the boys and Michael, and proceeds to give them all a paddle with ‘I Have” on one side and “Never” on the other.

“I have never danced naked in the rain” Jonathan began. Joanthan – I Have Niall – I Have Harry – I Have Louis - Never Liam - Never Michael – Never “Okay..three bold adventurous young men, three boring old farts” Jonathan described.

“I’ve never been in the mile-high club” the host read the next item.

The crowd ooo’d in response. Harry’s instantly closed his eyes, whilst trying to think of a way he could get out of answering this question in front of his girlfriend’s brother who was sitting beside him. Jonathan, Niall, Louis and Liam instantly held up their paddles showing their answer, Niall being the only one to show ‘Never”.

“Harry what are you waiting for..come on we know the answer?” Jonathan brought attention to him sitting there with his paddle resting on his knees, and the crowd cheered at the embarrassment on his face.

“It’s awkward” Harry explained whilst running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair and avoiding Louis's eyes.

“Yeah..man there’s some things I like not knowing” Louis agreed.

“I’ll answer for you..there you go” Jonathan states whilst giving Harry the paddle showing ‘I Have”, which Harry uses to cover his face, making Niall chuckle next to him.

“Okay..this is a revealing one..remember guys honestly is the key here..alright?” Jonathan continued. “I have never smoked a joint”.

The audience ooo’d once again, and Louis sat there with the cheekiest grin on his face. The boys all began to look at each other hoping the game would end, and Harry even tried looking at the next question on the sheet of paper in front of the host.

“Answer this one..I think we know the answer to this one” the host ordered as Harry sat back in his seat. Louis was the first to hold up his paddle showing ‘Never’ with a big smile.

“What did you expect them to do..only you’ve given these paddles and you really think they're all gonna go..yeaah high as a kite” Michael interrupted the host whilst waving his paddle in the air “I’ll give you complete professionalism under a normal interview situation..but give me a paddle I’ll reveal everything to you” Michael mocked the game, making the boys and audience roar with laughter.

Michael continued mocking “ I just got up this morning..I was completely naked, do you think that’s what Harry’s gonna say..I got up this morning I smoked a fat blunt…I danced around in my shower completely naked…and then I ran around naked in the streets…and then I got on an aeroplane and fooked my missus” Whilst the audience and the other boys laughed at Michael's performance, Harry leaned forward and hid his face behind his hands.

“That’s about as wrong as things can be” Jonathan interrupted.

Continuing on “They're not gonna do that, they're media-trained megastars” Michael explained and showed that the paddle should have ‘Never’ on both sides. The audience applauded his performance and Harry had now lifted his head from his hand but continued to look everywhere other than at his future brother-in-law.

“That’s the end of the game..that’s spoiled the game for everyone..that spoiled the game” Jonathan aimed the statement at Michael “You spoiled the game for everyone.. I hope you feel proud of yourself…the best bit was you were doing a bad Cheshire accent, which was insulting to my friend Harry here” all the boys were hysterically laughing at the older men. --- “I know this is one you particularly like being asked..what’s happening in your love lives at the moment..who’s single?” Jonathan asked “You’re all single..apart from you Harry, is that right?”

“I think we are yeah” Louis answered on behalf of the boys. “How’s that going for you three single boys?” Jonathan continued to quiz the boys. “Good…yeah..I think we’re just enjoying ourselves and..we’re just havin’ fun” Niall explained and the other two boys nodded in agreement. “What about you Harry?..Are you happy?” Harry couldn’t hide his smile “Yeah.. it's good..I’m enjoying myself” “A bit too much is it?” Jonathan teased. “Alright…c’mon let’s move on” Louis interrupted before he found out more about his sister’s relationship, making the audience explode with laughter.

***

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darkwood-sleddog · 2 months

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more and more i become of the opinion my dogs are not reactive to strange dogs but in fact it is unreasonable to expect them to NOT be reactive when the dogs we pass are unwalked, understimulated rural hellions that thrash at the windows of their houses, bark at us and follow us for entire lengths of properties, snarl at us, run at us with tense body language etc.

is this because a neighbor (who does skijor!) moved in half mile down the road from us a half a year ago with the most polite, unreactive dog that my dogs glance calmly at as they walk by? as it is unrestrained (no underground fence) on the property? absolutely is.

is this because a few years ago a neighbor's very nice pitbull mix got out and when it walked up to us with polite calm body language my dogs reacted just as calm and we were able to walk this dog home? absolutely is.

like i am a human woman and have lived in areas with much larger populations than i do now. i remember being followed by strangers, yelled at by strangers in aggressive ways. it made me tense and yes...reactive in those moments to ensure my own safety and needs were met. but was it my fault for having to react that way? To call friends and family and be on the phone any time that i walked alone? to check in when i got to where i was going? to bring pepper spray and iron knuckles to walk less than 10 minutes away from home? I don't think it is. Rather it's the failure that allows that behavior towards me which is at fault. i should not have had to carry those things with me. or call a single soul.

same with my dogs. my dogs aren't reactive, i'm just the only person who walks my damn dogs in my rural neighborhood. even though we can walk for 4+ miles either way on safe dirt roads out of our driveway before we reach pavement. nobody else. walks. their. fucking. dogs. yes i manage my dogs behaviors, it can be embarrassing when they get riled up, but know what? it is not their fault so many other dogs fucking SUCK. and it is not those dogs' fault that they suck either. i encountered more politely behaved dogs when i lived in the suburbs and city than i do now because those dogs at least had some sort of experience with being around other dogs (passing them on the sidewalk even) out of necessity. Rural people truly just throw their dogs outside and expect that to be enough. if you're lucky they install a little underground fence that will maybe keep fido in the yard (like uwu WE don't want to have a look at a fence and we're going to make all our neighbors GUESS if our dog might run into the road at them uwu).

#dogblr #dog behavior #is it unreasonable to ask completely neutral behaviors from my dogs #when they're being fucking harrassed? when they just want to do their sniffy thing and pee on a bunch of stuff??#can't even like loiter in some places bc people's dogs loose their fucking shit even if they stay on the property or are inside #like...real containment and stimulation when and now please?#nothing happened but neighbor with a dog that barks and screams at us from inside non stop #put in an electric fence and assured me this under 1 yo dog will never leave the boundary #like...okay...#sure.#let's see how that goes #like my dogs have wonderful temperaments #sorry if they're going to tell your dog off for being a piece of SHIT brenda #my dogs obviously know our yard is their territory #but they don't make a single peep for people walking on the road which is NOT theirs #i can be out of sight of entire dogs with properties out of the sight of the road #and their dogs will still be fucking yelling at mine! like shut the . fuck. up!!

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sweetbutpsychobutsweet · 5 months

Text

Owe You One

Chapter 6

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: A new discovery about the nature of orcs leads to a drastic decision on your part. And Thorin surprises you by behaving in a very un-Thorin-like manner

Warnings: angst, no use of y/n, implied eating disorder/starvation to avoid menstruation

author's note: Hope y'all enjoyed the events of last chapter😉 I'm working on creating a master list for my page so it's easier to navigate through my fics in the future!

Also, without giving away too much of what happens in this chapter, I added in the warnings that there are mentions of the reader starving herself to delay getting her period. Because it doesn't come from a place of body dysmorphia I didn't want to mislabel it as anorexia, but if this is a potentially triggering topic for you please be aware that you might want to skip the next few chapters.

If you or someone you know is suffering from an eating disorder you can call the helpline at ♥888-375-7767♥

Word count: 1622

You allow yourself a few minutes to just sit on the bed in your towel. It takes some time to form a coherent thought, and even longer to regain feeling in your legs.

Once you do finally gather enough energy to stand you make your way over to the armoire to dress for dinner. Your stomach is already starting to rumble in anticipation of the feast you know will be waiting for you just down the hall so you decide to dress quickly.

You choose a dress you know you can slip into easily, not wanting to fuss with pulling on trousers at the moment. You pull on a clean chemise to go underneath, then choose one of your favorite evening dresses to pull on. It’s a dark, forest green color, made of a shimmery fabric that catches in the light with your every movement. The sleeves flow down your arms before splitting open at the elbow to drape loosely down the rest of your arms. The laces cross in the front of the bodice instead of the back so you can tie them easily yourself.

Not wanting to wrangle with your wet mess of hair you simply pile it on top of your head and pin it in place. You step into a pair of matching silk slippers and head out the door, following the mouthwatering smell of Elven cuisine.

You force yourself to walk slowly down to the dining hall, worried the others might be suspicious if you arrive too soon after Thorin does.

You pass through elegant archways to find your company poking at the vegetables before them with great displeasure. But not quite as much displeasure as you feel when you realize the only seat left is right next to Thorin.

You had hoped to avoid him for a while in a vain attempt to put off the inevitable discussion that will need to be had. About what happened between the two of you, and what exactly it means moving forward.

“These swords were made for the goblin wars of the first age,” Lord Elrond is explaining when you take your seat between him and Thorin. “How did you come by these?” he asks curiously.

“We found them in a troll hoard on the great east road shortly before we were ambushed by orcs.” Gandalf replies with excitement.

Lord Elrond looks at you with suspicion. “And what were you doing on the great east road?”

“Weren’t you listening?” you ask as you start to pile food onto your plate, “we were being ambushed by orcs.”

Your Elven friend simply laughs, knowing better than to try and get an answer out of you.

“We’re incredibly lucky you arrived when you did,” you tell him, “we’d probably all have our heads mounted on spikes by now if it hadn’t been for you.”

“We were doing just fine,” Thorin grumbles from beside you but you elect to ignore him.

“They are vicious creatures,” Lord Elrond agrees with you. “While you’re here I’ll have to show you some literature I recently found on some of their hunting strategies. Some scholars seem to believe that orcs are able to smell blood from several miles away. If their intended target loses so much as a drop of blood they’re as good as dead with an orc pack on their trail.”

You freeze with your fork midway to your mouth.

Blood? You think to yourself in panic as you start to do the math in your head.

You drop your fork onto your plate in alarm and everyone turns to look at you in concern. You smile sheepishly and reach for your water goblet with a trembling hand. Everyone turns back to their conversations.

Everyone except Thorin. Whose gaze you can feel burning a hole in your head.

You refuse to meet his eyes, too afraid that if he sees the panic on your face he’ll be able to realize the exact same thing you just did.

Orcs can smell blood, and your menstrual cycle is due to start in five days.

If its true that even a single drop can attract orcs from miles away, then the pack currently hunting you will certainly notice if you suddenly start to lose a large amount of blood.

If Thorin and the others find out that the only female member of the company is about to pose a great risk to everyone’s lives then the only logical solution would be for them to leave you behind.

For Thorin to leave you behind. Again.

You’ll be left bleeding and alone while they go off to continue reclaiming Erebor without you.

You know it isn’t fair to blame them. It’s not their fault you have this monthly inconvenience any more than it's yours. It is for the good of the company that you stay behind for a little while if you’re about to start bleeding.

Unless you don’t start bleeding, you realize.

You look down at your plate as an idea starts to form in your head.

The stress of the journey will likely cause your cycle to come late anyway. But if you were to stop eating for just a few days, that would definitely prevent your cycle from coming. At least long enough to put more distance between you and the orcs.

You push your plate away from you, your decision made. Certainly, you can manage to go a few more days without eating, if it means saving the company from any further risk. Your stomach grumbles at you in protest and you can tell Thorin is still looking at you with suspicion. But that will be a problem for later.

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

“Our business is no concern of elves,” Thorin’s voice echos off the walls of the dark study you have all gathered in.

“Here we go,” you mutter to yourself.

“For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map!” the wizard cries with mounting frustration at the leader of your company.

“It is the legacy of my people, it is mine to protect as are its secrets,” Thorin replies stubbornly.

“Thorin,” your voice is gentle but assertive and for the first time since dinner his eyes finally meet yours.

“You can trust Lord Elrond, I promise.” he remains silent as his eyes search your face. You can still see the dark cloud of his inner turmoil as he struggles to hold his ground against you and Gandalf. His resolve may be starting to crack, as he realizes this is in the best interest of the quest. But knowing Thorin he would rather die than admit defeat.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!” Gandalf cries, “Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in middle earth who can read that map, show it to Lord Elrond!”

Thorin gives no indication that he heard a word Gandalf said. His gaze has not left yours.

“If you won’t trust Lord Elrond, will you at least trust that Gandalf has our best interests at heart?” you ask him with a sigh. “Will you trust me, Thorin?”

He remains silent, clenching his fists at his side, and your irritation grows as you steel yourself for him to refuse yet again.

But he doesn’t.

He reaches into his tunic and pulls out the map.

“Thorin, no!" Balin protests but Thorin simply shrugs him off and hands the map over.

Lord Elrond begins to carefully unfold the map as you repeatedly open and close your mouth in shock, not knowing what to say.

Thorin averts his eyes from you as Lord Elrond and Gandalf begin discussing amongst themselves. Their voices fade around you in a blur and your attention drifts away as it can only seem to focus on one thing: why would Thorin do that?

He never backs down, not even when he realizes he’s in the wrong. Even before there was this tension between the two of you, convincing Thorin to set aside his pride when he feels so strongly about something is next to impossible.

What could have possibly caused him to change his mind this time?

“Cirth Ithil,” you hear Lord Elrond say and your attention immediately snaps back to the present moment.

“Moon runes!” you translate with breathless excitement.

“Of course!” Gandalf cries, “An easy thing to miss.”

“Well in this case that is true,” continues Lord Elrond, “moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.”

“Can you read them?” comes the important question.

Lord Elrond leads the others off to a moonlit space where the runes will be illuminated. But before Thorin can follow the others you reach out to grab his arm, pulling him back from the group.

He turns over his shoulder to look back at you but avoids meeting your eyes.

“Why did you do that?” you ask him, “What made you change your mind?”

He gently removes your hand from his arm and turns to face you fully. Your breath catches in your throat as he takes a step closer to you and memories of what happened in that pool earlier that same evening come rushing back.

You hadn’t noticed until now that a strand of hair had fallen loose from the others, and hung by your cheek. Thorin reaches up gently to tuck it behind your ear. His warm palm lingered against your cheek.

“It’s like you said,” he mumbles as your eyelids flicker in anticipation, “I owe you one.” his hand falls away from your face and you can’t help but feel more than a little disappointed as he turns to follow the others outside.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@mrsdurin @thetaekwondofeline

#thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader smut #thorin oakenshield smut #the hobbit #thorin oakenshieldx fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x afab!reader #thorin #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit fanfic #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield angst #thorin oakenshield x y/n #thorin smut #thorin angst #thorin oakenshield x reader angst #thorin x reader angst

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 36

You, Joel and Ellie become reluctant guests. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-35 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 4.5k

You were fairly certain they weren’t raiders.

Not that you were positive about it. The way Joel’s whole body tensed told you that you might be wrong but they’d approached you very differently than the raiders in Boston had. You shivered at that memory, at the thought of their hands on you, at Joel shooting and killing one just to make a point.

“Not going to let them separate us,” Joel said quietly, not looking at you. Ellie was squeezed between you, armed men all around. You tugged her sleeve down, making sure her arm was fully covered. “Stay close.”

You nodded. You hoped you didn’t look as scared as you felt, both because you didn’t want to seem weak but because you didn’t want Ellie to pick up on it.

The men led you more than a mile into the forest, the brush thick. You had to watch where you stepped, no clear path through it. Ellie tripped at one point and Joel caught her out of the air before she hit the ground, setting her back on her feet. You’d been walking almost half an hour when you saw the light shift ahead of you. Things seemed a bit brighter, like the sun was splitting through the dense canopy. You looked at Joel, his jaw set firm, his hand in a fist.

They’d taken his gun. It was strange, seeing him outside without it now. It had become an extension of him since you’d left the QZ. It was like seeing a dog with a broken leg, exposed and vulnerable and wrong. He looked back at you, something dark in his eyes. Like he was about to do something reckless. You shook your head once, barely moving it. He gave you a minuscule, single nod in return.

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” the man on Joel’s other side said.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” Joel glared at him. You ground your teeth. This could go sideways so easily.

Your group approached a clearing, bigger than you’d have expected to find this far in the woods. It was peppered with makeshift shacks, built with tarps and tree branches. There was one building that looked to be more permanent that some of the people were working on, the walls looking to be about shoulder high. The group was mostly men but there was a cluster of women and children off to one side. The women were watching you - or rather, watching Joel - eyes narrowed.

“Well well,” a man who had been standing at the corner of the half built structure strode over, hiking his pants up as he went. He looked Joel up and down, sizing him up. “Been a while since we got anybody through here. What brings you by?”

“Just passing through,” Joel said, his shoulders squared. You held Ellie to your side and you could feel just how tense she was.”Would have been well and through here if your men hadn’t stopped us.”

“Where you headed?” The man asked. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Joel but he wasn’t small and you really fucking hoped that Joel wasn’t about to pick a fight with the man.

“Wyoming,” Joel said. “My brother’s out that way, meetin’ him.”

Man nodded slowly, kicking at some of the brush on the ground, watching his feet as he did before looking back at Joel.

“And who’re you traveling with?” He asked, glancing at you and Ellie. “Haven’t seen anyone come through here in weeks, been even longer since any women or kids made it this far.”

Joel glanced at you quickly.

“My wife,” he said. “Our niece. Right Baby?”

Both men looked at you.

“Right,” you nodded, still holding onto Ellie. “We’re going to stay with my brother-in-law, hoping it’s better out that way.”

The man nodded again, frowning a little.

“Looked like you were comin’ from Kansas City,” he said. “Not much down that road beyond that.”

“Why?” Joel asked, voice getting heated. “What’s it matter where we’re coming from?”

“Because we had some information coming over radio from Kansas City until just over a week ago,” the man said. “About as long it’d take to walk this far.”

“Good for you,” Joel said.

“We got the fuck outta dodge just before FEDRA fell,” the man ignored Joel. “But can’t say FEDRA was much too happy with that. Neither was Kathleen.”

“Aren’t you just making friends everywhere you go,” Joel replied.

“One of the last things we heard out of KC was real interesting,” the man said. “At least, as far as you’re concerned.”

You tensed, trying to look around without being suspicious about it, ascertain where shots might start coming from so you could put yourself between there and Ellie. But you were pretty damn well surrounded.

“Why’s that?” Joel growled, straightening his spine just enough that the man had to look up at him.

“Because Kathleen was awful interested in a man, a woman and a girl,” he said. “Was damn near ready to burn the city down looking for them. A man, a woman and a girl who sure fit your description. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Joel’s jaw twitched.

“We dodged Kansas City best we could when passin’ through,” Joel said. “Heard it went to shit, didn’t want to get mixed up in it.”

“Well how about we just keep you here until we find out,” the man said. “I can’t risk FEDRA coming down on us and I’m hard pressed to think of much that would piss off Kathleen that much short of fucking FEDRA.”

He jerked his head and two men came forward.

“Why don’t you take the girls…”

The man closest to you put his hand on your shoulder and Joel moved so quickly it made you jump. He punched the man closest tho him and grabbed his gun as he stumbled back. He grabbed the leader, pulling his back against him and pressing the gun to his head.

“Not takin’ the girls anywhere,” he snapped. The guns all around you snapped to Joel. Ellie gasped and you tried to put yourself between her and Joel. “They fuckin’ stay with me!”

“Don’t think you’ve got much room to make deal, friend,” the leader’s voice was strained, Joel’s arm around his throat.

“You think I won’t fuckin’ kill you right here?” Joel snapped. “They stay with me or I blow your fuckin’ head off.”

The men with their guns drawn moved closer.

“Joel, it’ll be fine,” you said quickly.

“Yeah, if I stay with you, it’ll be fuckin’ fine,” he snapped.

There was a man on Joel’s other side, where you thought Joel might not be able to see him, who started moving again, gun up.

“I’m a doctor!” You said quickly. Suddenly, people were more interested in you than they were in Joel. “I”m a doctor, I have medications with me, I can check over your people here. There’s a man, one who met us on the road, he’s limping. It looked like it might be an ankle injury, I can check it, set it properly… anyone here sick? I can treat them. But I won’t do shit for you if you hurt Joel or separate us.

“You put the guns down and let us stay together and I’ll treat your people while you confirm that we’re not FEDRA or whatever else you’re worried about,” you said.

“Don’t know that your husband would agree with you,” the leader said.

“Joel,” you looked at him, eyes pleading.

“Let me stay with the girls,” Joel said after a second. “Not just lettin’ you do whatever the fuck you want with ‘em.”

“Stay with them,” the leader said. “We can make that work. We wouldn’t hurt them but you can stay with them.”

Joel looked around once more at the gathered men before he released the leader and gave the man whose gun he’d stolen his weapon back. He watched them, almost daring them to try to stop him and he came and stood by you and Ellie.

“You OK?” He asked, his voice low.

“Better now that you’re probably not going to get fucking shot,” Ellie muttered.

“Take the three of them to a place they can set up for the night,” the leader ordered the man Joel hadn’t punched. “We’ll try radio contact in the morning.”

The man kept his eyes on Joel the whole way, like Joel was an animal he was worried as about to try to snap off a hand. You kept Ellie against you and Joel put his arm around your shoulders. The man led you to a part of the clearing that had relatively flat ground but was still open.

“Assuming you have your own gear,” he said flatly. “Don’t fuckin’ try anything.”

Joel kept an eye on him as he walked away before he turned his attention back to you and Ellie.

“They didn’t touch you, did they?” Joel asked, taking your face in his hand.

“No,” you shook your head. “No, we’re fine.”

He kissed your forehead before he stepped back from you.

“Don’t like this,” he kept his voice low. “Don’t think there’s anyone left in fuckin’ Kansas City that they can contact.”

“Think their radio can reach Boston?” You asked quietly. “Abe knows me, if they talk to Abe, Abe can confirm that we’re from Boston, that we’re not FEDRA… well, that you’re not, anyway…”

“You’re not FEDRA either,” Joel frowned. “Not the kind they care about, anyway.”

“Regardless,” you said. “I think we need to tell them we came from the Boston QZ and tell them to radio Boston if they can. Maybe they’ll just let us go, if they really are just worried about FEDRA coming down on them, they’d have no reason to keep us.”

“You just gave ‘em one,” he muttered.

“It was the only thing I could think to do to keep them from fucking shooting you,” you snapped. “Figured we could deal with the fallout once everyone was alive!”

“Guys!” Ellie interrupted you. “If we want to keep them from fucking killing us this probably isn’t the way to do it.”

You and Joel looked at each other for a moment before you just nodded at her.

“Let’s do our best to stay in one piece tonight,” you said, looking between the two of them. “Lay low.”

You watched the rest of the camp from your little corner as you pulled food out of your bags, down to the last of the cans you’d brought with you from the cabin. Ellie staked a claim to the Spaghetti-Os.

“People from before made some pretty decent food,” she scraped the inside of the can. “QZ food was so shitty.”

“And that’s not even the good food,” Joel said. “But even that’s not bad. Especially not by comparison.”

“Know what I would kill for now?” You asked, eating a soggy green bean from your vegetable soup. “A Big Mac.”

“Fucking hell,” Joel groaned a little. “Who knew I’d ever miss fuckin’ McDonalds but damn, their French fries…”

“Ugh, when they were hot right out of the grease?” You sighed. “Kill me. So good.”

Ellie looked between you.

“Old people are weird,” she muttered, finishing her food.

As it got dark, the camp got quiet, not much in the way of light. Joel didn’t pull out the lantern, apparently not wanting to risk it if no one else here was.

“I’ll keep watch,” he said after Ellie had already gone to sleep, her rhythmic breathing quiet and close. “You sleep.”

“We can trade,” you replied. “Don’t need you to be so sleep deprived you can’t function.”

“I’ll wake you up halfway through,” he said.

You moved closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder.

“Really ready to never see a gun pointed at you again,” you said quietly.

He kissed the top of your head.

“Need you to stop offering yourself up every time we’re in a tough spot, Baby,” he said. “You’re not some fuckin’ bargaining chip, need you to stop actin’ like you are.”

“I couldn’t just stand there while someone tried to hurt you,” you replied. “I know you’re stronger than me and more capable than me but there’s stuff I can do, too. I can help get us out of tight spots.”

“Not gettin’ us out of a tight spot if it gets you captured, hurt or killed,” he pressed his nose into your hair and breathed you in. Even though you hadn’t washed it since the cabin. He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s not worth you, Baby. Nothin’s worth you.”

“Nothing’s worth you, either,” you replied. “So stop getting guns pulled on you and I’ll stop trying to get you out of it. Deal?”

He laughed once.

“I’ll do my best.”

You stretched out on the ground beside Joel, his back against a tree trunk. You rested your head in his lap and he stroked your hair as you drifted off, listening to him breathe.

***

Joel kept his hands on you while you slept. It was comforting, feeling you close, feeling your ribs rise and fall with your breath, feeling the little twitches you made as you dreamed. Solid evidence that you were alive and with him. As long as you and Ellie were alive and with him, he could figure the rest out. He had to figure the rest out.

You were right about contacting Boston. The people here seemed reasonable - even if they were edging in on desperate. They’d left the three of you alone that evening, minus guards watching you from a reasonable distance. But he was worried about the desperate side of them. Desperate people would justify a lot of things. He knew how that worked. Desperate people would do anything to survive. He’d just need to make sure what they needed to survive didn’t involve the three of you.

He didn’t wake you up halfway through the night. He wasn’t the most alert guard, drifting in and out of consciousness but staying awake enough that he knew that no one was going to be sneaking up on you.

You glared at him about it in the morning but didn’t push him on it. It didn’t take him long to figure out why.

“No,” he snapped.

“You can just stay here,” you replied, grabbing your pack. “Keep an eye on Ellie. Maybe nap. It’s fine.”

“Not going to just let you do whatever these people say…”

“Wasn’t planning to,” you replied. “I was just planning to treat people who were sick and hurt. And check on the kids especially. It’s better if you’re over here, your bedside manner is… Look, Joel, you’re good at a lot of shit but putting people at ease isn’t one of them.”

He ground his teeth as he watched you head toward the center of the camp, your pack over one shoulder, as you went to talk to the man Joel had put at gunpoint the day before.

“Gin?” Ellie asked. He frowned down at her. She held up the cards. “I meant the game.”

He watched from afar, barely paying attention to the game, as you went from person to person, checking injuries, asking questions. You pulled out medications a few times, distributing them as necessary. You’d been working for a few hours when the leader of the camp walked over to Joel.

“Your wife said you’re from Boston,” he said, sitting next to Joel.

“We are,” he said. “Left the QZ a few weeks back. Making our way west, like I said. Trying to get to my brother in Wyoming.”

“She suggested I call the radio tower in Boston if I couldn’t get anyone up in KC,” he said. “But she seemed damn sure I wouldn’t get anyone in KC.”

Joel just shrugged.

“We’ll see if we can get a line out to Boston this afternoon,” the man said. “See if you folks are telling the truth.”

“And if we are?” Joel asked.

“Then we’ve got nothin’ to worry about with you, do we?” The man shrugged. “Look, I’m not wanting to keep you here if you don’t want to be here. And we already have enough trouble feeding our own, we don’t need two more mouths. But I can’t risk the safety of the people here. If there’s even a chance that you’re FEDRA, I can’t let you go and inform on us. We risked a lot to get the fuck away from them, not about to go back.”

You didn’t come back to your corner of camp until early evening. You’d worked the entire day and all but collapsed next to Joel and Ellie.

“That felt like a really rough day at the clinic,” you said, arching and stretching your back out as you settled into the ground. “They have almost no resources here…”

“I know FEDRA’s bad,” Ellie said. “But this can’t be better than that.”

“It was better where we were,” you said, going into your bag for jerky. “Which says a lot because they were executing people for breaking curfew too many times…”

Ellie frowned and ate some jerky.

“If there was a cure,” she said, looking at the two of you hesitantly. “It would go back, right? To the way it was before?”

Joel looked at you for a moment and you looked back at him.

How was he supposed to answer that? Tell her that who knows what would become of this fucking mission the three of you were risking your lives for right now? That sometimes people are just too damn mean and too damn stupid and too damn power hungry? That it doesn’t even take cordyceps to make the world go to hell? Give the right asshole too much fucking power and they’ll invent problems so they can take the rest of it.

“Don’t know,” Joel said eventually. “Never had to cure something like this before. Never had the whole world collapse like this before. No fucking clue how it would go.”

“We won’t know unless we try,” you said, your voice low. “It’s all we can really do.”

One of the men who’d led the three of you to the camp the day before came over, his eyes on Joel.

“We got a line through to Boston,” the man said. “Who’s going to verify your identity?”

“I can,” you got up, dusting yourself off.

“We all will,” Joel narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn’t trust him. Something was setting his teeth on edge. He could feel it, something shifting.

The three of you followed him over to the battery operated radio. The signal was faint and fuzzy but you took the mouthpiece.

“Abe?” You asked. “You there?”

“Sweets?” His voice crackled and popped. You smiled a little. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead! Good to hear your voice. The fuck are you doing way out there?”

“Meeting up with Tommy, Joel’s brother,” you said. “We left in a hurry but we’ve hit a bit of a snag here, can you just confirm that we’re from Boston and don’t have anything to do with FEDRA in Kansas City?”

“Course you don’t have anything to do with the shit show in Kansas City,” Abe scoffed. “You’ve been in Boston since 03. They listening?”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at the leader, his hands on his hips.

“That girl was in my damn office twice a week every week for five years after the outbreak, searching for that man,” Abe said. “Then he found her. They’re from Boston.”

The leader took the mouthpiece from you.

“Thank you for confirming,” he said. “Over and out.”

He put the mouthpiece down and nodded.

“Sounds like you are who you say,” the leader said. “In that case, you’re free to go. You can go in the morning…”

“Few hours of daylight left,” Joel said. “We’ll go now.”

He put his arm around you and started steering you back to where your packs were.

“Joel,” you said quietly. He cut you off.

“Need to put some distance between us and these people,” he said. “Somethin’s not right.”

You didn’t fight him on it. Which was good because he was damn near ready to put you over his shoulder and carry you out of here if you did.

Ellie was ready first, backpack on, her eyes narrowed at the leader of the group talking closely with a few of his other men. He watched them, too, staying close to Ellie and you. Something wasn’t right.

“There are some medications I want to leave…” you said as you put your pack on, Joel shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Somethin’s not right, we have to go.”

“But…”

“Baby,” he looked at you, all but begging for you to listen to him. “It’s not worth the risk. We have to get Ellie west, we have to go.”

You looked to the girl who, for a change, was sticking closer to Joel than she was to you.

“OK,” you said.

He led you toward the edge of the camp, where he knew the road was waiting for you just a mile out, watching as the men of the camp closed ranks.

They still had his fucking gun.

“Sorry to have held you folks up,” the leader said, flanked by a few men. Joel ground his teeth. “We just can’t afford to be too careful, not with what we got away from.”

“We understand,” you smiled. It didn’t reach your eyes. “We appreciate you letting us get on our way.”

“Sure, sure,” he nodded slowly, stepping closer. “The man and the girl are free to go. But I’m afraid that I can’t, in good conscious, let a doctor leave. You’ll have to stay.”

Two of the men came forward and grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back and two more grabbed Joel before he had a chance to react.

“Joel!” You screamed, reaching for him but they yanked you back. More men surrounded you, your eyes wide and desperate.

“Leave her alone!” Ellie shrieked before a guard grabbed her, too.

Joel felt the action before he’d decided to do it. The rage and the fear and the heat of it all taking over the second one of those men touched you. It was a drumbeat in his body: get to you get to you get to you.

He was not going to let anyone take you from him.

He moved quickly, throwing one of the men who had him to the ground and shoving the other one back before going for you. The leader pulled his gun and pointed it at Ellie. Joel froze, his heart in his throat.

“Now, I’d hate to harm a child,” he said. “So how about I let you take the girl on out of here and we keep your wife. I promise we won’t hurt her, won’t let anything bad happen to her. She’ll be treated well, better than she would be in a QZ.”

“Joel,” your face was wet. “Joel, get Ellie out of here…”

“No,” he shook his head. “No! I’m not leaving you…”

“Get Ellie to Tommy,” your voice was wet. “Take care of her…”

He looked at the man with a gun to Ellie’s head. It was like his chest was cracking open with the heat of rage, the desperation of it.

“Listen to your wife,” the man said. “Don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

Joel tried to force himself to breathe for a moment, looking at the girl you’d both been tasked with protecting. There was rage in her eyes, too. She wanted someone to hurt for this. She hated them, too.

“OK,” he said, looking back to you. “I’ll get her there…”

The man started to lower the gun and Joel struck the second it was pointed more at the ground than at the girl. He grabbed his arm and wrenched it back, twisting until he dropped the gun. He pulled the man to him and, for the second time in as many days, pressed his own gun to his head.

“She comes with me and so do you,” he snarled. Everyone froze. “Let her go! Fucking move!”

The men holding you released you and you stumbled forward, ducking behind Joel and grabbing Ellie toward you.

“I’ll let you go when we get to the road,” he said. “Anyone fucking follows us and I kill him!”

He looked around, waiting for someone to challenge him. No one did.

Joel looked at you. Your eyes were wide and your face was still wet but you seemed to understand. You grabbed Ellie’s hand and pulled her into the woods, all but running for them, as Joel backed away from the camp, the gun to the man’s head.

“I will fucking kill every person here,” he said. “Don’t follow us.”

He started after you, keeping the gun pressed against the leader.

“We can work something out…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Joel snapped. He glanced down at you.

“They hurt you?” He asked. You shook your head. He looked back to the man. “Better count your fucking blessings that she said no.”

The walk back to the road was faster than the walk to camp, even hauling an unwilling man along side him. Joel kept an eye out for any signs they were being followed but none came.

“Look,” the man said as they neared the road. “I hope you understand, I was just trying to do the best thing for my people…”

“By kidnapping someone?” Ellie rolled her eyes. “OK sure.”

“You’re a child, you don’t understand what it means to have people relying on you…” he replied.

They made it to the road and Joel released the man. The rage was still hot in him, the drive to punish the person who had been a threat to you and the girl strong.

“Get behind me,” he said, his voice eerily calm.

“Joel,” you said quietly, but he cut you off.

“You and Ellie,” he said. “Behind me.”

He raised the gun.

“Wait…” The man put his hands up.

Joel didn’t care.

He shot him in the head and watched him drop like a bag of sand, the blood vibrant on the earth. You gasped, like you were surprised even though you clearly had known what was coming.

“We’ll have to move fast,” he said, going to the man’s body and pulling the rifle from his back and gathering the spare ammo he had on his person. “They’re going to come looking for us when he’s not back in time, and that’s assuming no one heard the shot.”

“Joel,” you said his name quietly, looking up at him.

“He threatened Ellie,” he said. “Tried to take you from me. I couldn’t let him live. Not after that.”

He pulled you into a quick hug, Ellie leaning around the two of you to look at the body.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to move.”

The three of you ran across the street and into the forest, the trees swallowing you up as the sun started to get low, the pooling blood reflecting the twilight sky.

A/N: Look I will write feral Joel at the slightest provocation, don't test me.

There's a bit more travel time to come before our trio makes it all the way to Jackson and lots of country to cover between now and then. I hope you're enjoying it!

I have a taglist! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to it. I keep having more and more people crop up who I can't tag (Tumblr won't let me?? It's very odd) so I'm so sorry if it's not going through, I promise I'm trying!

Thank you, as always, for reading and for commenting. It's so amazing to see how people are reacting to this story in real time and makes it such a joy to write. Thank you thank you thank you for being here :)

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#joel miller x female reader #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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landwriter · 1 year

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Sandman prompt: Dreamling roadtrip

"Remind me why I am allowing this," says Dream.

Hob casts a sidelong glance at him. Dream, in his car. Dream, stuck in the crawl of London traffic with him. Imagine that.

He reels off Dream's succession of unfortunate choices with poorly smothered glee. "Because your sister said you should spend more time among us humans, which you mentioned in passing to Matthew yesterday, who suggested a road trip, then had to explain to you that a road trip meant 'Just driving somewhere for a while', and you apparently you said-," Hob pauses to pitch his voice as low and poncy as possible, "'Ah, a pilgrimage, then. A journey for self-knowledge.' And Matthew said 'That's right, boss' and you said you would, in fact, be curious about such an experience."

"False pretenses," says Dream, darkly, under his breath.

"Indeed," says Hob, who thinks he loves false pretenses now. Matthew had shown up at his flat laughing so hard he couldn't even speak. When he finally recounted the conversation (after Hob had gotten very concerned and asked if Matthew needed a human counselor or an animal vet, and Matthew had shaken his head and wheezed 'No, a driver', before falling into fits of laughter again), Hob had immediately agreed.

"And then I canceled my plans for the weekend because I'm the only human you know who has a car, it turns out," (A reliable and bright red Vauxhall Corsa, thank you for asking.) "And because I'm a very good friend," he adds. He still relishes the new-word feel of it. It had only been four months since Dream had shown up at The New Inn. Hob was skiving off marking midterm papers for this, actually.

"Yes," says Dream. Hob realizes he'd skive off the whole term for this.

How could he turn down the prospect? His friend, literally strapped into the Corsa for at least the next several hours. Assuming Dream didn't leap out and flee on foot down the M1 - which seemed so thoroughly undignified for a being of Dream's station that Hob felt utterly assured of his company. It had all rather gone to his head.

"This will be fun," he promises. "Feel the grass under your feet, and that."

Dream looks out the window bitterly as a lorry overtakes them. Hob has never been the fastest of drivers. Never really took to it, to be honest. Bit of the medieval peasant in him, he thinks, can't quite make himself go over fifty miles per hour. But he's very safe. Hardly any accidents. Mostly minor rear-end damage.

"I see no grass," says Dream.

"Surely the Lord of Stories is familiar with figurative speech," says Hob, and glows under the heat of Dream's glare in reply.

"Anyways," he continues, "We're getting to that bit. Literally. In, uh, six hours or so? It's a great spot. But in the mean time, this is part of it too." Hob takes a hand off the wheel to gesture with a flourish at the sea of sensible hatchbacks and work vans around them, swimming like fish in the asphalt rivers of London's outer burbs. "Humanity," he pronounces, and the car drifts a little into the next lane. Humanity honks rudely at him and then accelerates safely out of Hob's radius.

Dream's sulking seems to have pushed him fully into the realm of catatonia, because Hob's passengers are usually more animated when he does exciting little things like that. Hob looks over in concern and this time the car barely follows with him.

"Bit rusty," he offers.

Dream deigns to snort softly at that. "My sister is far worse," he says.

Hob raises his eyebrows. It was hard to imagine Death bad at anything, frankly. Dream must see his look because he clarifies.

"Another sister. Delirium. An official of the carriageway stopped us. He would not have us continue our passage. So she gave him delusion of bugs crawling across his skin. Forever."

"Well, that's one way to get out of a ticket," says Hob, and makes a mental note to ask Death for a complete list of siblings and how to avoid angering them.

"He was being rude," adds Dream. He suddenly sounds very much like an older brother.

"Oh, fair play, then," says Hob affably. He'd had little sisters once. He understood.

They drive in silence for a few minutes. Hob thinks about putting on a playlist, and has just decided that nineties Britpop is perfect for this occasion when they pass a junction sign and he exclaims in recognition.

"The M25! Funny story, I know just the loveliest antiquarian book dealer who says his partner - uh, I'm assuming there, but if you heard the way he talks about him - anyways, his partner designed it. Some kind of high-flying civil engineer, I reckon."

"Really," says Dream. "A...high-flying...civil engineer." He sounds fascinated.

Hob hadn't expected Dream to be interested in road design.

"Something like that, definitely," he says, looking over to see Dream, staring at him, rapt. He looks back and brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of him as it turns off onto the motorway in question. "Sorry. Saw him once in passing, actually. Dresses like you. Very fancy and dark."

"Perhaps you should keep your focus on the road, Hob," says Dream, but he sounds like he's smiling.

"Oh, we're not for a while yet," says Hob. Half truth, half optimism.

"Where are we going?" asks Dream. Hob beams. He's just won a bet with Matthew.

"It's a surprise" he says. "Now, have you heard of this band called Oasis?"

#asks #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #prompt fill #my writing #road trip fic is a timeless genre #hob is making it up as he goes #hob def has multiple routes in mind depending on how long dream is willing to abscond with him #hey fellas is it gay to want to drive across the country with your best friend #(hey fellas is it gay to hope you'll have to stay the night at a village inn and be mistaken for a couple)

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anotherwellkeptsecret · 10 months

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My husband and I grew up half a mile away from each other. I used to visit his neighborhood at Halloween and Christmas because it was the absolute best place to get candy and see awesome Christmas decorations.

We were in school together from about second grade to sophomore year of college. We both got our associates at a local place and each pursued our four year degrees at different schools, but only an hour apart. All our yearbooks have each other's signatures in them.

His fist apartment, and where I moved in with him when we started dating, was half a mile from my childhood home, in the other direction. We got married together while living in that apartment.

And now we've bought a house, all of a sudden, in his childhood neighborhood, where I used to visit on key holidays for chocolate and fairy lights.

Our whole lives, our childhood, our friendship, our relationship and marriage, will all be within a mile radius on a single stretch of road.

As much heartache as we've been through, I'd do it a million times over to be with him.

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underdark-dreams · 6 months

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I just binged all your Rolan x Tav fics on here (about to go to A03 and give kudos ❤️) and just wanted to say 😩😩 Perfect! AND! I saw you wanted suggestions! i would love to see the first interact/first meeting of Rolan and Tav from his POV if you felt inclined! No pressure! Thank you, keep up the good work! ❤️

I've grown so fond of this vague fem Tav I keep pairing with Rolan...so I hope these pronouns are ok for this request! Tav gets her name finally. (Cal and Lia also barged their way into this one in a big way)

Blades and Spells

A sanctimonious soldier isn't Rolan's idea of a good person to know, but is seems Tav is doing her damnedest to prove him wrong. The day of their first meeting at the Grove.

Tags: Fem Tav, Fluff, First Meetings, Sibling Bonding

Word Count: 4,322 [Read on AO3]

"We don't even know these people—"

"They're the closest thing we've got to kin, and you know it!"

The bright and promising midday had been punctured by a bloody ambush at the gate. Kanon was dead—a goblin booyagh's arrow and a nasty fall behind the front wall. No doubt his body was still cooling just a short walk from where the three siblings stood inside the shaded mouth of the Grove.

Their caravan's brief respite was shaken by the attack. Zevlor had retreated to strategize; the other Tieflings were on edge, a few downright panicked, the fresh tension around them only fueling the siblings’ words.

It had been weeks since he and Lia had a proper fight—Rolan felt all the pent-up anger rolling out now.

Lia stood with fists braced on her hips. "And what about the goblins? I know you're handy with a spell, Rolan, but I seriously don't fancy our chances alone on the Risen Road."

"Did you not see what just happened?" Rolan said, casting an arm behind his sister toward the gate. "That treasure-hunting idiot just led them right down on our heads. There’s bound to be more, and I don’t want us sticking around to find out how many."

"That’s all the more reason to stay!” Lia’s voice rose to match his. “These people aren't fighters, Rolan. We’d be cowards to leave. We can protect them—we should—"

“Or keep making a scene,” Cal said from the sidelines, to no one in particular. The other Tieflings had grown used to their bickering many miles ago.

Lia was undeterred. "Is this about your precious Lorroakan? Because I promise you, Rolan, he'll still be there when we finally get to Baldur's Gate."

Rolan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh of course not, why would I want to achieve my lifelong dream, see my family finally be safe and provided for along the way—"

"Don't put this on me and Cal," his sister warned. "It's all the same excuse, you'd have left these people yesterday—"

"Because they're not my kin!" Rolan practically shouted, not caring how far his voice carried. "No matter how many times you say it! I'm not going to risk all three of our lives, our futures, on people who can't seem to keep themselves alive. How do you think I'd feel if I let anything happen to you? Either of you?"

"We know, Rolan," Cal interjected, trying to bring a little understanding.

"If you care about me and my future—" Lia jabbed a sharp nail at Rolan's chest—"you won't ask me to turn my back on these people when they need our help."

As Rolan opened his mouth to respond, he caught motion in his periphery. He turned to see an unfamiliar face standing at the edge of their conversation. The stranger rested a hand on her sword pommel, looking on quietly curious at the scene.

"Yes?" Rolan snapped at her. Sticking your nose into a private conversation hardly deserved politeness.

“Wait," Cal piped up beside him. “I saw you at the gate after the goblins."

Lia was quick to follow, disagreement all but forgotten. “You fought out there just now?” She sounded practically jealous. “Sweet hells, that must have been a rush. We owe you.”

"Good timing, that’s all," the stranger replied, shifting her weight a little. From real or false modesty Rolan couldn't tell.

He finally recognized her then—the one he saw speaking with Zevlor for quite a while immediately after the attack. Judging by the flecks of wet blood on her equipment, and on that of her companions behind her, these were the surprise reinforcements he'd already heard other refugees chatting about in energetic tones.

They weren't so impressive in person. Scrappy, in Rolan's private judgment. His eyes passed over the pouting cleric, the murderous-looking Githyanki with a massive sword on her back, the elf who was glancing around himself as though trying to decide which element of his current surroundings he disliked most.

The other wizard looked sane enough, Rolan allowed. He could practically feel the ripples in the Weave all around the man's shoulders. Perhaps Rolan would have a chance at an intelligent conversation in this place after all.

As for the one in front—she smiled pleasantly at Rolan despite having just walked from a goblin ambush. That, to his mind, marked her as the most eccentric of all.

"Tav," she said, extending her sword hand. Rolan glanced down at the dark stains on her fingers.

Wasn't this hovel filthy enough? His clothes already smelled of smoke and grease from days in close quarters; he drew the line at smearing them with goblin blood.

Tav tracked his eyes, letting out an awkward laugh as she moved to wipe her palm on her pants. From beside him, Lia firmly intercepted the handshake.

"Lia. Forgive my brother, you know how wizards are about their robes." His sister's tone was light, but she shot him a look from the corner of her eye.

As if Rolan cared what some passing stranger thought of him. If he’d had his way, they wouldn't be here to have this conversation at all. But Cal introduced himself as well, looking a bit starstruck.

“Well met,” Tav told them, Rolan included. “Sorry, I know I’m interrupting.”

Perhaps sensing Rolan was about to agree, Lia jumped in. “Please. It’s a pleasure to meet people willing to risk their necks for a bunch of strangers, especially Tieflings. You all heading to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Aye. Same as you, I imagine—”

The inanity was enough to drive Rolan mad; it was like their first days on the road from Elturel all over again. He crossed his arms and zoned out as she and his sister made their meaningless smalltalk. He'd rather get his tail stepped on than do this painful getting-to-know with one more person they’d never see again.

Then he heard Lorroakan's name, and his ears perked up.

“He’s taken Rolan as an apprentice,” Cal was telling Tav proudly.

"Have you met Archmage Lorroakan?" Rolan asked her, suddenly interested in the conversation again. Tav looked at him with hesitation.

"Not personally. Gale said—" She glanced down the slope deeper into the Grove, and Rolan realized that the companions behind her had all trickled away in the short moment he hadn’t been paying attention. Seeking rest and recuperation, no doubt. "Gale was saying he's heard of him."

The human wizard, Rolan gathered. Hearing a stranger speak the archwizard’s name somehow rekindled the fire in Rolan’s chest, one he hadn’t realized had grown so low on fuel. He clenched his fist beside his robes and felt the crinkle of Lorroakan’s letter there in his pocket.

Tav was regarding him with a quizzical expression. "I mean, if an archmage that famous has an apprenticeship waiting for you…I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to move on sooner than later."

"Naturally," Rolan said, a bit stiff. It annoyed him that this newcomer could see more sense than his own siblings.

Then she continued. "But Lia's right. You three seem like you can handle yourselves, and I'm not sure the same could be said for everyone here. We'll need every fighting soul to defend against that goblin nest. Especially you—" Tav directed the comment to Rolan. "Having another Weave caster could make all the difference."

Well, so much for sense. Speaking of we and us as if they all had the same goals. A transparent tactic. Rolan wasn't sure what altruistic world Tav had waltzed out of, but he'd heard enough rousing speeches on kinship and unity from people like Zevlor to last him a lifetime. He wasn't about to listen to one from a stranger.

She was correct, however, to acknowledge the value of his skills. No one on the road here had displayed anything close to what Rolan knew he was capable of.

He glanced one more time between his siblings. The set of Lia's jaw told him her mind was well made up. Cal just looked hopeful for a resolution.

Rolan swore. "Fine. We've only taken our damn time getting here, what’s a few more days lost? If we’re lucky, we’ll reach the city with a good story, at least."

"Thank you, Rolan." Lia was meek now that she'd gotten her way.

“You must be quite skilled,” added Tav, sizing him up a bit. "To catch the eye of the Archwizard of Baldur's Gate."

Rolan didn’t miss a beat. "I am.” Cal rolled his eyes over Tav’s shoulder, but Rolan ignored him. “I’ve been manipulating the Weave since I was a child.”

“It’s true,” Lia confirmed. Still feeling guilty about winning the fight, perhaps.

“Really?” Tav broke into a grin, clearly impressed. Rolan drank in the admiration. "Good thing you're staying, then."

Behind his pride, Rolan couldn't help but feel a bit manipulated. Perhaps Tav wasn't the unsophisticated sellsword that she’d appeared at first.

"Well, I should go find the crew before they make too much trouble.” Tav was turning to leave before she paused, sheepish. “Say—don’t suppose druids keep a blacksmith around? One of those worgs’ teeth put a big scratch in my baby here.” As she spoke she looked down at the sword belted to her hip, almost like an indulgent parent.

“Dammon can fix you up,” Lia told her at once. “He’s one of us, a Tiefling. And he’s damn good. Take a left down the hill and you can’t miss him. Follow the loud noises,” she added, with a grin to match.

“Cheers,” Tav told her. “See you all later?”

The three of them watched her figure disappear deeper into the Grove.

"She stabbed a warg right up close,” Lia murmured, sounding morbidly inspired. “That’s incredible.”

Rolan scoffed at her. “Better to kill it from a distance and not damage your most valuable piece of equipment in the process.”

“Hey.” Cal glanced over to his older brother. “Did you even tell her your name?”

Rolan wasn’t concerned. “I’ll tell her later, if she’s still around.” She and her companions would remember his name soon enough—them and all of Baldur's Gate.

—

In these cramped quarters, it didn’t take long before they encountered Tav again. Her hands swung a bit awkwardly at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Her scabbard clanked empty against her greaves; presumably, Dammon was hard at work repairing her blade.

Cal and Lia practically swooped down beside her as she approached. Rolan tried to hide his scowl at their eagerness.

"Have you been around the place yet? Cal and I can show you around, if you’ve got time.”

“I’d like that,” she told them both with a genuine smile. “Perhaps later, if you’re willing? Zevlor told me about your…druid problem. I promised him I’d have a talk with Kagha.”

Who had elected her emissary? Rolan glowered. "I assure you, the druids will tell you it's a foulblood problem."

It wiped the smile from her face, and Rolan found it difficult to feel bad. She wanted to dig through other people's problems? She could get used to uncovering ugly things.

"Yes…well. I'd prefer to keep an open mind," she told him evenly. With another small comment to his brother and sister, she continued on toward the deep clearing where the druids were gathering in preparation for their rite. A place strictly off-limits for Tieflings.

Lia rounded on him. "I swear, you embarrass me worse than Cal sometimes."

Cal frowned. "Hey—"

"Because you care too much about what people think," Rolan answered his sister. "Believe me, she and her people don't care about us. Didn't you hear her little speech before? She only wants more bodies for the fight."

Internally, Rolan was still bristling at the idea that Tav had complimented and cajoled him into staying at the Grove. He didn’t truly believe that was the reason for his decision, but the fact that she’d gotten to him at all unsettled him.

“Come on.” Lia knocked her arm against his playfully, an effort at reconciliation. “I’m just saying, Rolan. It costs nothing to be a bit nicer to people around here.”

Rolan heaved a sigh. Even he was growing weary from all the bickering they’d done today, though he’d never admit that to his sister. “All right. I’ll try, if it makes you happy. But believe me—people like her look after themselves. And I intend to look after us.”

—

Tav hadn’t been in the heart of the Grove for more than ten minutes before she reappeared, practically stomping up the path from the Kagha’s inner sanctum. Apparently the emissary work wasn’t going so well. Without her sword, her hands were clenched at her sides in empty fists. Her expression was thunderous.

“Have you seen Zevlor?” She asked the three of them as she approached, bypassing the smalltalk Rolan was beginning to expect from her. He directed her back toward the carved door in the corner of the cave.

“Everything all right?” Rolan asked, curious in spite of himself.

Tav exhaled sharp through her nose. “Kagha was having a grand time interrogating a hostage. That little girl, Arabella.”

“What?” Cal’s voice rang with alarm.

“I guess she tried to steal the druids’ carving of Silvanus,” Tav told him. “The one they need for their ceremony. Her mother was nearly out of her mind…the child’s all right,” she added in haste. “Back safe with her parents now, but shaken up.”

Lia quivered with outrage at Rolan’s side. “Thank the hells you intervened.”

“Of course,” Tav replied at once, as if the situation called for nothing less. “I understand it’s the idol of their deity, but by all the gods…Kagha was ready to call her asp down on a terrified child.”

“That fucking viper."

Cal wasn’t referring to the snake; his siblings both glanced at him in surprise. He was a gentle soul, but if Cal cared about anything, it was protecting the young ones.

Tav seemed of the same mind. “There’s something about her,” she agreed with a dark look. Abruptly, she wheeled on Rolan. “What do you think?”

She sought his opinion as a wizard, he realized. All three of them were watching him, in fact, hanging on for his answer.

“Ritual magic is quite different from the Weave,” Rolan replied carefully. “Especially druidic magic. I don’t have the same feel for it. But Kagha…”

He cast his mind back to the first day their bedraggled caravan arrived in the Grove. The lot of them exhausted and bloodied after fighting off goblins and gnolls just up the road. Halsin, the massive elf who was then First Druid, squaring his shoulders above the smaller woman who somehow seemed to tower to his same height.

“She’s powerful,” Rolan decided. “Quite. Where it comes from, I couldn’t say.”

Tav was staring at him with an intensity Rolan hadn’t seen on her face yet. She looked far more intimidating than she had to him before.

But then she let out a thoughtful hum, and her features were back to their usual lightness. “I guess that’s one more reason to find this Halsin sooner rather than later.”

They all watched her take her leave toward Zevlor’s makeshift war room, the stone door sliding shut again behind her.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon and a stiff evening breeze picked up at the cave’s entrance, Rolan and his siblings settled toward the insulated back wall of the Grove where Okta was tending hearth. Whatever the old woman had simmering in her massive cauldron smelled a bit like damp wool, but the warmth of the coals underneath was toasty and wonderful against the skin on Rolan’s face and hands.

Cal and Lia were in wistful discussion on either side of him—something about which landmarks of the city they wanted to visit first. Rolan let the feel of the conversation wash over him without hearing the words. His eyes were on the glowing coals, but his mind was also on Baldur's Gate—that and its great archwizard.

You are fortunate, young Rolan. The flourish with which Lorroakan had written his name floated through his mind's eye. Even the parchment itself was heavy and fine, almost promising of better things. Rolan’s fingers brushed the hip pocket of his robes again as if to assure himself. He still carried the letter with him everywhere, though he’d long since memorized its contents.

From behind him Rolan heard the sounds of a friendly disagreement and turned to look. Tav again. He shouldn’t be surprised; the woman seemed to be everywhere today.

Across the path, she was engaged in a polite argument with Dammon at his tent. The smith held a hand up as if refusing something. Rolan caught sight of the polished sword pommel back in her scabbard once more, and surmised that Dammon must be turning down payment for the repair job after her help at the gate today. That seemed like his chivalrous style.

Indeed, Rolan watched her tuck her leather coin purse away and offer a hand instead. Dammon accepted and shook it with a warm smile.

As he continued watching, the two struck up a friendly conversation. Rolan supposed a soldier would find much more to talk about with a smith than with an apprentice wizard. Her hand was draped at rest over her sword hilt again; that seemed to be an idle habit of hers.

He remembered the city guard back in Elturel displaying the same gesture while posted at watch, and wondered whether she might be in a similar line of work. Back in…wherever it was she hailed from.

Insipid questions that Rolan nevertheless filed away in his mind to ask her at some point. If nothing else, it would make Lia happy to see him making an effort. Being nice.

Rolan glanced again at the dark stains on her fingers. She hadn't taken time to wash and rest yet since the fight. It was all over her, goblin blood and human, small flecks of it visible on her clothing and chestplate and even on the side of her face. Didn't she find it unpleasant? It would drive him mad. But it didn't seem to concern her, and Dammon certainly didn't look bothered.

The smith said something that made her laugh then, and a dimple appeared in Tav's blood-spattered cheek.

Dammon had an easy way about him that always seemed to earn him fast friends. Right now, Rolan found he was a bit envious of the trait. He didn't intend to come off as such a prickly ass, as Lia so affectionately liked to call him—though time and again he seemed to manage it.

The constant setbacks between them and Baldur's Gate had just soured Rolan's mood in recent weeks, he told himself. His apprenticeship was all his mind could dwell on at rest, and each delay was harder to bear than the last.

But none of that was really Tav's fault. Inwardly, he could admit that Lia would have talked him into staying on her own anyway. Rolan found himself hoping that he'd made a non-terrible impression on the newcomer.

An elbow in his ribs broke his line of thought. "What?" Rolan looked around, rubbing the spot with a hand.

"I said, you're staring," Cal repeated. He and Lia were both looking at him—Rolan didn't like the expression on either face.

"Shut up," he said, though neither of them had spoken. "She's got blood all over her, who wouldn't?"

"I'm just saying." Cal put up both palms, his eyebrows raised. "From your face, you didn't seem that put off."

"Maybe she’d like to see your Thunderwave, Rolan," his sister suggested.

"You're both idiots." Rolan turned around with arms crossed, watching Okta pluck a dead chicken as though it might be interesting. The idiots on either side were not so easily deterred.

"There’s something about a woman in armor, isn't there, Cal?"

"I've always thought so." Cal leaned a forearm on Rolan's shoulder, sounding quite sincere. "Hey, you could offer to magic the bloodstains off her stuff for her. Use that presto—presti—"

"Prestidigitation," Rolan supplied, eyes still on Okta's cooking. A shockingly good idea from Cal. But it would be strange to offer that to a person he'd just met; Rolan dismissed the thought.

"She should've just taken the time to clean it herself before it all dried," Rolan said aloud. "The way her companions did, no doubt. Instead of running back and forth back here all day."

"Yeah," Lia drawled. "Saving little girls from pit vipers. What a waste of time."

“Well, only one way to find out if she’s interested.” Cal turned around and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Tav—”

Rolan would have smacked the back of his brother’s head had the woman not already turned toward the sound of her name. She approached their spot near the hearth looking politely curious.

“Lia was just wondering,” Cal started in—leaving Rolan’s name out of it, a smart choice for his skull— “won’t it take a long time to get all the stains out of your armor?”

“Oh.” Tav sounded taken aback, but glanced down at herself as if just now noticing the state of her equipment. “Oh yeah, this’ll cost me a good half hour at least. And probably both my elbows,” she added with chagrin. “Damn. Got distracted by everything, I guess.”

“Because Rolan can magic it off in a second,” Lia said in a rush.

"Really?" Far from averse, she was looking at Rolan with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn’t know magic could—I mean, of course it can. I guess. Why, are you offering…?” She glanced between him and his siblings then, as if finally picking up on the strange energy between them.

Rolan felt all three pairs of eyes come to rest on him. He could hardly back out now. “If you’re interested,” he told her.

“Hells yes,” Tav laughed. “Are you kidding?”

Lia clapped her hands together softly. “Excellent. Well, since Tav’s interested—” She placed a strange emphasis on the word, one Rolan hoped only he noticed— “Cal and I should get going to set up camp. See you both later?”

“Right,” Cal agreed at once. With that, the pair of them slipped off in a few flicks of the tail.

What a couple of damned children. Rolan let out a heavy sigh; they seemed determined to try every last slip of patience he had.

Tav followed him to a spot closer to the back corner of the Grove, a bit removed from the sounds and smells. A stream of cool air seeped in from somewhere outside the walls, and Rolan breathed in gratefully. He had found it hard to concentrate in the stale surroundings of this place.

“Right.” She stood opposite him, looking a bit unsure. “How does this work, exactly?”

“Just keep still,” Rolan advised her. This would be easier if she took off the pieces of her half-plate first, but asking her to do that seemed unthinkably familiar.

She did as he directed. “Sure you’re not going to transform me into a pigeon or something? Give me wings?”

“This is the simplest spell there is, I’m not an idiot.” Rolan’s tone was irritable, but it only made her laugh. He realized that she was teasing him.

Regardless, Rolan steadied his stance and reached out to the Weave. Whether or not it was technically correct, it was the way he’d taught himself.

Breathe in—quiet each thought—feel the air above and the ground below—

Like a warm embrace from the oldest friend, the Weave flowed as a golden light into his cupped hand. Rolan formed the clear intention in his mind and guided the magic toward her.

“It tickles,” Tav said in surprise, but he could tell she was doing her best to keep still. Her eyes were squeezed shut for some reason.

Rolan blinked at her, not sure how long she had expected this to take. “You can—it’s done.”

“Really?” Tav looked across her chest and shoulders and the greaves on her legs, admiring their new shine. “Wow…neat trick, that. So you’re saying Gale’s been watching us polish our armor and weapons every night when he could just use the Weave for two seconds?”

“The manipulation does take energy,” Rolan told her, not wanting to discredit a fellow wizard while he wasn’t here to defend himself.

Her expression changed a bit. Then she reached a hand to his shoulder. “Thanks for this, Rolan. It might be simple to you, but—” She dropped her arm and cast around with a tired laugh. “Life has honestly been…kind of terrible lately. Thank you for making it better.”

Rolan felt he could stand to hear more of that story, but he doubted she'd want to tell it. “You’re welcome,” he told her instead.

It was a bit awkward traveling back through the winding Grove together toward the entrance, but it could hardly be avoided. Their camps were both in the same direction.

The night patrol were watching vigilantly from the wall; the massive carved gate raised before them as if in anticipation. Rolan stepped out into the dark, cool evening with another grateful breath.

Beside him, Tav sighed wearily. "Well, 'night. Off to enjoy my extra sleep," she said with another smile to him before she turned away.

No such easy goodnight for him, Rolan knew. He imagined Cal and Lia perching awake on their bedrolls, eager to hear what chaos or embarrassment or both their meddling had caused for him this time.

More concerning to him right now was the way his shoulder seemed to radiate where she'd placed a grateful hand before. Rolan rolled his arm a little, trying to shake the tingling warmth near his collar bone. It didn't quite work.

But perhaps he'd think about that tomorrow.

#rolan x tav #fluff #tav x rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #underdark-dreams #thegoblinwitchqueen

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